Diary – 3 September 2004

Whenever I feel psychotically depressed about this country — which, as I contemplate another nine years of Labour rule, is more and more often — I find myself being thankful that I do not have as my head of state President Chirac. I have come to believe that he is the price France pays for having Ravel, Manet, Cheval Blanc, Paris, foie gras and all those gorgeous pouting actresses. At the time of writing, slimy Jacques has not resolved the latest problem facing his country, the kidnapping of two French journalists in Iraq. Their captors have demanded that France drop the law forbidding the wearing of religious symbols in schools: they want girls to be able to wear la voile to preserve their modesty. The law is just another example of Chirac’s moral cowardice, and his attempt to deal with the fears many of his fellow countrymen have about Muslims by offending absolutely everyone. He claims that as the Fifth Republic has secularism enshrined in its principles, children should not advertise their faith. Here, it would cause an outrage if such a law were passed, and quite right too. I am amazed at the restraint of the French who, being mostly Christian, have to see their majority culture driven underground so that Chirac can have a go at the Muslims. The dwarf Sarkozy, a nasty little bugger, clearly, but also fearsomely effective, has Chirac in his sights. I hope for France’s sake he pulls the trigger at the right moment.

Like President Chirac, but for different reasons, I view all religions with equal scepticism. However, more and more journalists, in their determination to be politically correct, suck up to certain creeds while being pretty offhand with others. As in France, Christianity gets consistently rough treatment, and Judaism is often alluded to in terms that would have warmed the heart of Julius Streicher.