Piers Morgan

I never liked Piers Morgan when he was a newspaper editor in the UK. He came across as stroppy and aggressive, and I didn't feel much sympathy for him when he fell from grace and disappeared. 

In his new incarnation, with his own daily news show on CNN, he is much more appealing. He seems more at ease with himself, more human, and his style - still bolshy and opinionated - goes down better on this side of the Atlantic than in his home country. As a fellow Englishman in the US, I admire him for how respected he has become here.

He is now getting a lot of attention in the gun control debate that was sparked by the Connecticut shootings. Having decided that Americans don't get angry enough about these tragedies, he compensates by getting super-angry each night on his show. He berates pro-gun guests, almost hugs those against, and generally works himself into an undignified lather.

I think this public hissy fit performs a valuable public service - that of counterbalancing the pantomime baddies in this debate, the NRA. These are the people who suggest solutions like giving teachers weapons, so that they can pick off would-be gunmen between Math and Science and keep the school day moving along.

With Piers Morgan baying at the moon on one side, and the NRA practicing their commando rolls on the other, the politicians are left looking calm and rational in the middle. All the outrage, and stupid ideas, have already been used up, so surely the right answers are there for the taking.

If something good comes out of all this, then Piers Morgan will have done his bit - embarrassing as it is to watch. Good luck to him.

TV Commercials

I have spent the last few minutes trying to think if there is anything, in the world, more annoying than television advertising in the US. The Kardashian family possibly excepted, I really don't think there is.

You simply get bombarded - before, during and after your program - with everything from invitations to bonanza mattress sales, to images of cars sleekly winding along mountain roads, to demonstrations of the latest nose hair trimmer (when I find mine quite easy to use).

However I have found some light relief during commercial breaks through paying attention to the last 20 seconds or so of drug company advertisements. This is where the negative side effects of the drug in question have to be explained. "Taking this medication may cause you to break out in hives, spend 3 days on the toilet, or burst spontaneously into flame. Consult your physician if any of these symptoms persist". That sort of thing.

The best of all these is in a commercial for a viagra-type medication, which advises users to see their doctor if they have "an erection lasting more than four hours". Wow! At the wrong time of day this could make it quite difficult to go about your business. But I bet women all over the country, with husbands snoozing beside them in their armchairs, have quietly taken note of the drug's name. So even the warning can be part of the sale I suppose.

I'm going to have to think of other strategies for getting through commercial breaks. Sniggering at rude words will only get me so far.

Driving in Los Angeles

A few weeks ago I was driving along when a car nosed out from a parking lot into my lane, in a way that I felt required some outraged flailing of arms. The driver was a young man, sporting a large baseball cap and (probably) a pair of jeans riding somewhere around his knees. In response to my performance, he eyeballed me and, calmly but firmly, raised his middle finger. I felt silly, stopped flailing, and we both went on our way.
 
What a constructive exchange that was, I thought. I had released my frustration, he defended himself while acknowledging his error, and no damage was done - either to our cars or ego. Was this how driving in LA worked, I wondered - is there a sort of unwritten highway code of rude gestures, helping people to stay sane amid all the congestion and rushing around? So I decided to test it out.

A couple of days ago a driver behind me thought I was being too cautious in turning left through the gaps in oncoming traffic. He leant on his horn with such fury that I thought he might actually explode. So I mischievously raised a finger back at him. Well, it turns out that not all drivers in LA are up to speed on the unwritten code…

We turned left, he raced in front of me and gestured – with what I now saw was a meaty arm – to pull over. I’d like to say I did, and put him in his place with some excellent karate. Or deployed some silky British diplomacy, so that we shook hands and went on our way. Instead I hared off at high speed thinking “F*@!%^&*!!!”.

There followed 60 seconds which would have been comical if I had not been so petrified. I would turn into a side street, he would follow. I would whip round a car park, only for him to be waiting at the exit, eyes blazing and still gesturing for me to get out. Just as I was running out of side-streets, he gave up and disappeared, leaving my heart rate to return to some sort of normality.

Maybe, just maybe, I misjudged that particular situation. I guess I'm not quite an LA driver yet.