20 Oct 2025

The Bats Have Left the Bell Tower: Notes on the Life and Death of Bela Lugosi

Bela Lugosi lying in his coffin at a Hollywood funeral home 
Photo by David Katzman
 
 
I. 
 
On this night in 1882, a star was born: the Hungarian-American actor Bela Lugosi, best remembered as Dracula in the 1931 horror classic of that title (dir. Tod Browning); the story of the strangest passion the world has ever known.   
 
It was a role that he had previously played on stage in a 1927 Broadway adaptation of Bram Stoker's novel and one that both defined him as an actor and limited his future opportunities; eventually giving us a comic turn as the Count in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (dir. Charles Barton, 1948). 
 
This pretty much signalled the end of his career as a serious actor and, addicted to morphine combined with worsening alcoholism, things quickly went from bad to worse and he ended up taking roles in the films of Ed Wood, a filmmaker famously described by critics as the worst director of all time
 
 
II. 
 
On August 16, 1956, the news was announced that Bela Lugosi had died, peacefully in his sleep, aged 73.
 
Amusingly, he was typecast to the very end; buried wearing his Dracula costume, including the cape. This was not at his prior request, but done on the instructions of an ex-wife, Lillian, and their son, Bela Lugosi Jr., believing that the old man would've liked it (I'm not entirely sure about that). 
 
Even more amusing is the story of how, when standing by Lugosi's open coffin, Peter Lorre turned to fellow actor Vincent Price and said: 'Do you think we should drive a stake through his heart, just in case?'   
 
III.
  
To be perfectly honest, I can't say I'm a fan: Lugosi certainly had on screen presence as Dracula, but I always thought his performance lacked a little bite. In fact, he didn't even wear fangs for the film, this only becoming a cinematic convention in the 1950s; think Christopher Lee in the Hammer version of Dracula (dir. Terence Fisher, 1958). 
 
And, as a child, I was always more enthralled by other Universal monsters; Boris Karloff's Frankenstein and Lon Chaney Jr.'s Wolf Man, for example. Lugosi's Dracula seemed a little too hammy for my tastes; not that his performance was unskilled, just that it was a little too theatrical and reliant on exaggerated gestures and a heavy foreign accent. 
 
Still, it doesn't really matter what I think: Lugosi has his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame; Andy Warhol made a 1963 silkscreen print titled 'The Kiss (Bela Lugosi)', inspired by a scene from Dracula; and Bauhaus have immortalised the actor in their classic single 'Bela Lugosi's Dead' (Small Wonder Records, 1979): click here.  


19 Oct 2025

On the Monstrous Nature of Philosophy

 Frankenstein's Monster x Ludwig Wittgenstein [1]
 
'Thinking has interests that do not coincide with those of the living ...' [2] 
 
I. 
 
Philosophers, like monsters, "are creatures that fail to meet prevailing measures and norms by radically exceeding or falling short of them ..." [3]
 
Their form of life - to use a term favoured by Wittgenstein in his later work - is unconventional to say the least; and some might even describe it as inhuman, although that is perhaps going a little too far, as even the most monstrous (and unintelligible) of philosophers share certain practices and customs with others and their thinking ultimately springs from the same bio-cultural reality [4].  
 
In sum: philosophers are not monsters per se; but their thinking is a monstrous form of life; i.e., both unnatural and prophetic [5]. And such a monstrous form of life "is not homogenous and smooth; its language is not a common and transparent one; it is not the unanimous and harmonious sound of angelic tongues" [6]
 

II.
 
According to the film theorist and philosopher Noël Carroll, the word monster is - rightly or wrongly - one that might easily be applied to philosophers. 
 
Why? 
 
Because monsters, like philosophers, "are unnatural relative to a culture's conceptual scheme of nature. They do not fit the scheme; they violate it. Thus, monsters are not only physically threatening; they are cognitively threatening. They are threats to common knowledge" [7].  
 
As David Birch notes: "There is an uncanny parallel here between the characterisation of monsters and the work of philosophers." [8] 
 
Indeed, we might even conclude that the best collective noun for a group or gathering of philosophers might not be a school, but a den of monsters.
 
Having said that, I repeat what I say at the end of section I: philosophers are not monsters per se; but their thinking is a monstrous form of life ... And, for me, the person who has developed this line of thought to its nihilistic limit, is Ray Brassier ...
 
 
III.  
 
In a book that I often return to and never tire of reading - Nihil Unbound (2007) - Brassier savages those philosophers who would attempt to stave off the threat (he would say promise) of nihilism by safeguarding the experience of meaning and everything else that humanity clings to and believes in. 
 
In brief, Brassier wishes to accelerate the process (or logic) of disenchantment that began with the Enlightenment and turn philosophical thinking into what he terms the organon of extinction:
 
"Philosophy would do well to desist from issuing any further injunctions about the need to re-establish the meaningfulness of existence, the purposefulness of life, or mend the shattered concord between man and nature. It should strive to be more than a sop to the pathetic twinge of human self-esteem. Nihilism is not an existential quandary but a speculative opportunity." [9]  
 
However else we might describe this speculative realism, it's certainly not thought as most people think it; it's thought in a monstrous form; "throwing us into a world we no longer recognise, and that does not recognise us" [10].
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Obviously, by linking the names of Frankenstein and Wittgenstein I do not wish to imply that the latter was a fan of Mary Shelley's 19th century queer gothic novel. Indeed, as far as we know, he never read the book, nor did he refer to it in any of his writings. 
      And whereas Shelley was very much influenced by David Hume - her novel might even be read as an exploration of the tragic consequences of a skeptical worldview and the limitations of empiricism - the same cannot be said of Wittgenstein, who had a largely negative view of the 18th century philosopher. 
      Interestingly, as David Birch reminds us, there is an astonishing passage in A Treatise of Human Nature (1739-40) in which Hume confesses that philosophical solitude results in his feeling like 'some strange uncouth monster, who not being able to mingle and unite in society, has been expelled all human commerce, and left utterly abandoned and disconsolate' (Treatise, Book 1, Part 4, Section 7). 
      See David Birch, 'Are Philosophers Monsters?', The Philosophers' Magazine - click here. I shall return to this essay later in the post. 
 
[2] Ray Brassier, Preface, Nihil Unbound: Enlightenment and Extinction (Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), p. xi. 
 
[3] Jasmin Trächtler, 'Speaking in Monster Tongues: Wittgenstein and Haraway on Nature, Meaning and the "We" of Feminism', in Forma de Vida (2023): click here
 
[4] Should AI systems ever achieve independent consciousness, we might not be able to say the same of them. For perhaps they'll reason in a way that is truly posthuman (or techno-monstrous) and we'll no more be able to understand than we would a speaking lion; see Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Blackwell, 1953).   
 
[5] The word monstrous derives from the Latin mōnstruōsus (from monstrum), meaning unnatural. But it also etymologically relates to the Latin verbs mōnstrare and mōnēre, which mean to reveal and to warn.  
 
[6] Jasmin Trächtler ... op. cit
 
[7] Noël Carroll, 'The Nature of Horror', in The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism Vol. 46, No. 1 (Autumn, 1987), pp. 51-59. Click here to access on JSTOR. The lines quoted here can be found on page 56. They are also quoted by David Birch, in his article cited above. 
 
[8] David Birch, 'Are Philosophers Monsters?'
 
[9] Ray Brassier, Preface, Nihil Unbound ... p. xi. 
      This quote is not only pinned above the desk at which I write, but pretty much encapsulates what Torpedo the Ark is all about; i.e., that the disenchantment of the world "deserves to be celebrated as an achievement of intellectual maturity, not bewailed as a debilitating impoverishment" and nihilism is the "unavoidable corollary of the realist conviction that there is a mind-independent reality, which, despite the presumptions of human narcissism, is indifferent to our existence and oblivious to the 'values' and 'meanings' which we would drape over it in order to make it more hospitable" [xi]. 
 
[10] David Birch, 'Are Philosophers Monsters?' We should note that Birch is speaking of Hume here, not Brassier. 
 
 

18 Oct 2025

On the Moral Recycling of Human Garbage (and the Rise of Christian Nationalism)

The Redeemed Christian Church of God [1]

'God hath chosen the weak things of the world ... 
and the base things of the world - things which are despised - 
in order to negate the world' [2]
 
 
I. 
 
Some readers may recall a post from earlier this year in which I noted how one of the ironic consequences of mass migration from sub-Saharan Africa is that there are suddenly lots of evangelical Christians on the street corners of Harold Hill, preaching the gospel and reaching out as missionaries [3]
 
And so it came to pass that this morning I was handed another little leaflet by two (always very friendly) black women wearing brightly coloured clothes and blasting out gospel music on their boombox, which posed a series of questions, including: 
 
Are you a battered, broken, miserable member of society? Is your life empty and meaningless? [4]
 
Suspecting that I might be such and that the answer to the latter is almost certainly yes, I thought it would be instructive to read the leaflet and find out how God can, allegedly, not only save sinners, but also recycle those who find themselves on the human scrap heap; this includes not only those who are damaged and unhappy, but those who regard themselves as rejects and failures; those who are hated and abused by others.
 
 
II.    
 
Actually, I don't regard myself as a victim; and emptying life of meaning is part of my philosophical project as an existential nihilist.   
 
But what's amusingly ironic about the little leaflet I was given is how it confirms Nietzsche's view expressed in Der Antichrist (1895), that the church has always essentially recruited from amongst society's refuse; i.e., the weak and ill-constituted for whom sympathy is "more harmful than any vice" [5].
 
According to Herr Nietzsche, Christianity has always waged war on the higher type of human being; i.e., one who feels themselves strong and happy and develops virtù upon this feeling of wellbeing and superabundance [6] and it has always willed the triumph of precisely the opposite type of animal. 
   
As he is quick to point out: 
 
"That the strong races of northern Europe have not repudiated the Christian God certainly reflects no credit on their talent for religion - not to speak of their taste." [7]  
 
But what really makes one sigh with despair is that, today, in the UK, there's a resurgent Christian nationalism [8] to contend with and not just a couple of rather lovely middle-aged African women handing out leaflets on a street corner. 
 
We've got a bigger problem now, as Jello Biafra would say ... [9] 
 
 
Notes
 
[1] The Redeemed Christian Church of God is a pentecostal megachurch denomination founded by Pa Josiah Akindayomi, in Nigeria, in 1952. With parishes in over 197 countries and more than nine million members worldwide, the RCCG affirms fundamental Christian doctrines, including the reality of evil, the Bible as God's inspired word, and salvation through Jesus Christ.
 
[2] Paul the Apostle, 1 Corinthians 1:27-28.  
 
[3] See the post entitled 'Heaven and How to Get There' (1 July 2025): click here
 
[4] From the RCCG leaflet pictured and discussed here. 
 
[5] Nietzsche, The Anti-Christ (§2), trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1990), p. 126. 
      For Nietzsche, the real danger is that sympathy soon becomes pity - and pity has a depressive effect; it is the means by which suffering becomes contagious (see §7).
      See also §51, where Nietzsche writes: "As a European movement, the Christian movement has been from the very first a collective movement of outcast and refuse elements of every kind ...", p. 178.     
 
[6] Nietzsche borrows this morality-free concept of virtue from Machiavelli, who thought it necessary for the achievement of great things and the maintenance of society. For both thinkers, manly virtù includes pride, bravery, skill, strength, and an ability to be ruthless (or even cruel) when necessary. 
 
[7] Nietzsche, The Anti-Christ (§18), p. 138.  
 
[8] See recent articles on the websites of the National Secular Society - click here - and Humanists UK: click here
      Obviously, the term Christian nationalism is an oxymoron and is essentially a far-right political identity disguised as a form of spirituality; i.e., a movement made up of those who like "masturbating with a flag and bible" (see note 9 below).   
 
[9] I'm referencing here the title of the Dead Kennedys track from their 1981 EP In God We Trust, Inc. (Alternative Tentacles) - a rewritten version of their earlier song (and first single release) 'California Über Alles' (1979). In note 8 above I am quoting from the lyrics to another track - 'Moral Majority' - on the same EP. As this song is as relevant now (if not more so) as when recorded over forty years ago, I invite readers to click here to watch the band playing it in the studio.   
 
 

17 Oct 2025

Spiders & Snails Versus Starmer & Reeves

A distinguished jumping spider (Attulus distinguendus
A pair of whirlpool ramshorn snails (Anisus vorticulus)
Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves (Homo politicus) amused by the thought of habitat destruction 
and species extinction in the name of housing development and economic growth
 
 
I. 
 
There are many reasons to despise the present British government and - to echo the immortal words of Bernard Brook Partridge - one would like to see Starmer and his entire cabinet dropped down "a very, very large, exceedingly deep hole", in the belief that the UK would be "vastly improved by their total and utter non-existence" [1].
 
To give but one of these reasons - discussed at length in an article by George Monbiot in The Guardian [2] - the government's new planning bill is tearing down environmental protections to benefit developers, and that is something I vehemently disapprove of. 
 
 
II. 
 
Just to be clear: I am always and forever on the side of bats, newts, snails, and spiders; all creatures that have been blamed by successive governments (not just this one) for getting in the way of urban expansion and economic growth. 
 
Earlier this year, for example, Starmer called for the extermination of an extremely rare species of jumping spider [3] which, according to him, had prevented an entire new town being built in Kent, thereby denying the dream of home ownnership to thousands of families. 
 
This turned out to be a misleading oversimplification of a complex issue [4]
 
"What developers were seeking to build on the peninsula was not homes, but a theme park. But Starmer, making it up as he went along, had reduced the issue to spiders v people." [5]
 
Rather than apologise, however, a spokesperson for the prime minister simply repeated that the government was committed to going further and faster with its mad ambition to concrete over what remains of the UK's natural habitat.  
 
And just last week, the chancellor, Rachel Reeves, proudly informed an audience of corporate executives that she had given permission for a large housing development in Sussex that had previously been prevented by "'microscopic snails that you cannot even see'" [6].  
 
What Rachel from accounts doesn't seem to know or care about is the fact that this very rare little creature - known as the whirlpool ramshorn snail (Anisus vorticulus)- is "an indicator of fresh water not affected by sewage pollution" [7], so serves a vital role alerting us as to the state of our rivers and streams.  
 
And what the public have not been told is that a new housing development will lead to excessive water abstraction and that this could not only damage or destroy the highly protected wetlands in which the snails live, but threaten the future wellbeing of people in the south-east of England as groundwater supplies in the region become increasingly polluted and ever-depleted.       
 
 
III. 

Ultimately, as Monbiot says, the new planning and infrastructure bill is a full-scale assault on nature; one that will "enable developers to bulldoze precious wild places" [8] and see irreplaceble ecosystems sold for cash.   
 
And shockingly, "the big nature groups - the RSPB, the National Trust and the Wildlife Trusts - with their combined membership of 7.5 million, are mute. They accepted a series of government amendments in return for agreeing not to campaign against the bill" [9]
 
England, my England in 2025 ...  
 
Instead of raising the colours, those who call themselves patriots should be raising bloody hell against this government and protecting this green and pleasant land and the creatures that inhabit it. Rewilding, not flag waving, is what we urgently need to see; fewer people, fewer houses, fewer cars and more birds, beasts and flowers.  
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Bernard Brook-Partridge was a high-profile Tory who served as chairman of the Greater London Council's arts committee (1977-79). He famously described punk rock as "disgusting, degrading, ghastly, sleazy, prurient, voyeuristic and generally nauseating". The words I use here with reference to the current Labour government were originally said with reference to the Sex Pistols, whom he found particularly ojectionable. 
      Click here to watch Brook-Partridge voicing his opinion on camera in The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple, 1980).
 
[2] George Monbiot, 'Wage war on nature to build new homes: that’s Labour's offer, but it's a con trick', The Guardian (16 Oct 2025): click here.  
 
[3] The distinguished jumping spider (Attulus distinguendus) is one of Britain's rarest spiders, found only in two locations in the south-east of England: Thurrock Marshes in Essex and Swanscombe Marshes in Kent. It is a tiny species, just a few millimeters in size, with excellent vision and leaping ability, which it uses to hunt rather than spin webs. The spider is considered a conservation priority due to its endangered status and the threat posed to its habitat by development.   
 
[4] See the report on the BBC news website by Helen Catt (14 March 20205): click here.  
 
[5] George Monbiot, opcit.
 
[6] Reeves quoted by Monbiot. 
 
[7]  George Monbiot, opcit.  
 
[8] Ibid
 
[9] Ibid.
 
 

14 Oct 2025

Bloodstains on the Cobbles of Soho (Original Version)

Bloodstains on the Cobbles of Soho 
(SA/2025)
  
Where the streets are paved with blood / And American DNA - PW/SA
 
 
Although, technically, there isn't an upper and lower Wardour Street, nevertheless this famous half-mile thorough fare is cut in two by Shaftesbury Avenue; the lower half, heading south, will take you into Leicester Square via Chinatown; whilst the upper half, heading north, will take you into Oxford Street. 
 
The lower section, however, never meant much to me during the years I spent in Soho (1984-85), when Wardour Street was still home to the British film and popular music industries. 
 
As far as I was concerned, the Marquee Club, at number 90, was the epicentre not just of Soho but of all London and I still get excited when I'm on that stretch of Wardour Street between Old Compton Street and Broadwick Street, passing familiar establishments such as Bar Bruno and the Ship. 
 
Sadly, the Marquee - like the Vortex, at 203 Wardour Street - has long vanished. And many of the people who lived and worked and made Soho what it was in the 1980s have also passed away. 
 
Some continue to haunt the area; the so-called ghosts of Wardour Street. Others have left DNA evidence of their presence in the form of bloodstains on the cobblestones of Soho (although even this will degrade and disappear with time). 
 
 
To read the second (and I think superior, rather more poetic) version of this post published on 24 September 2025: click here. Usually, I delete first drafts and variants, but thought I'd make an exception in this case. 
 
 

13 Oct 2025

Lest We Forget the Old Creature's Birthday

  The inside of this card reads:  
 
Sobald ein Mensch auf die Welt kommt, ist er schon alt genug zu sterben ... [1]
 
Tout ce qui existe naît sans raison, se prolonge par faiblesse et meurt par hasard ... [2]
 
 
This Wednesday, lest we forget, is Nietzsche's birthday: he was born in Röcken, Germany, on 15 October 1844 [3]
 
And whilst the village he was born in has now been absorbed into the expanding town of Lützen, a few miles southwest of Leipzig, the actual house he was born in still stands, next to the church where his father was a pastor, and is now part of a memorial site that includes his grave [4].  
 
Not that Nietzsche was one to make a huge fuss over his birthday; indeed, in 1880, he even forgot it entirely, explaining to his friend Franz Overbeck in a letter that his head was too full of other thoughts (thoughts that made him wonder why anything should matter to him). 
 
Having said that, however, there are Nietzsche scholars who argue that Nietzsche did very much like birthdays; not least because it was a time of gifts and of cake, but also because they signified the beginning of another year and the opportunity to make a fresh start. 
 
After his own mother apparently forgot his 44th birthday in 1888 - his last before his mental breakdown in January 1889 - he sent her a postcard humorously reprimanding her: The old mother has forgotten the old creature's birthday!  
 
This was that perfect day on which everything ripened and he told himself the story of his life ... [5] 
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Heidegger doesn't do birthday greetings, but if he did, I'm sure he'd say something like this; it's a line from the late medieval text Der Ackermann aus Böhmen (c. 1400), by Johannes von Tepl, quoted in Sein und Zeit (1927).   
 
[2] And this equally amusing existential birthday greeting is by Jean-Paul Sartre, taken from his 1938 novel La Nausée.
 
[3] The same date as King Friedrich Wilhelm IV was born in 1795; a Prussian monarch very much admired by Nietzsche's father and after whom he was named. As Nietzsche would later write in Ecce Homo, this had one main advantage; throughout his childhood it was a day of public rejoicing. See section 3 of  Ecce Homo, 'Why I Am So Wise'. 
      Lest we forget, Michel Foucault, was also born on 15 October (1926); a philosopher who, by his own admission, tried "as far as possible, on a certain number of issues, to see with the help of Nietzsche's texts ..." 
      See Michel Foucault, 'The Return of Morality', trans John Johnston in Foucault Live (Interviews, 1961-1984), ed. by Sylvère Lotringer (Semiotext(e), 1996), pp. 465-73. The line quoted from is on p. 471. 
      And see also my post on being simply a Nietzschean à la Foucault, published on 14 August 2020: click here.
 
[4] The Nietzsche-Gedenkstätte: click here for details (in English).  
      This should not be confused with the Nietzsche-Haus in Sils Maria, Switzerland, where Nietzsche spent seven summers in the 1880s, and which is also now a museum (opened in 1960 and overseen by the Nietzsche House Sils-Maria Foundation): click here.
 
[5] Ecce Homo is the last original book written by Nietzsche before his death in 1900. It was written in late 1888, but not published until 1908. The book offers Nietzsche's own (self-mocking) interpretation of his work and his significance as a thinker.  
 
 

12 Oct 2025

In the Beginning Was the Word ... But Is That Word Graffiti?

 
Graffiti, in one form or other, has existed for as long as there have been walls to write upon. 
 
Arguably, even what we now laud as prehistoric cave art can be considered as a type of graffiti, despite some scholars insisting that to place these two distinct practices on some kind of continuum in this manner is a flawed and romantic assertion.  
 
Jeffrey Ian Ross, for example, an American professor of criminology, concedes that although we may not know for certain why paleolithic peoples painted on walls, we might reasonably assume that it was a consensual act and a collective expression of those living in or around the caves, whilst graffiti, on the other hand, is usually done without permission and is seen as an illicit form of individual self-expression. 
 
Thus, according to Ross, to describe cave painting as graffiti is a failure to understand that the latter is essentially a form of vandalism, not art, in that it involves "the willful and unwarranted act of marking a surface" [1], thereby causing criminal damage. 
 
 
II. 

Of course, not all graffiti is done without permission: if you walk around Shoreditch you'll see plenty of examples of commercial graffiti (or aerosal advertising, as it is also known); i.e., work that has been commissioned by businesses to promote their products in a way that is intended to look edgy and appeal to an urban audience, but which is perfectly sanitised and above board.   
 
The Situationists would describe this as the recuperation of street art [2].
 
Amusingly, even the Church of England is now getting in on the act [3] - much to the horror of many worshippers, conservative commentators, and American Vice President, JD Vance - and it's the (some would say sacrilegious) graffiti installation entitled Hear Us, at Canterbury Cathedral, that I wish to discuss here ... 
 
 
III. 
 
The first thing that needs to be said is that Hear Us is neither graffiti in the criminal sense (though some insist on seeing it as an act of vandalism nevertheless), nor in the commercial sense (I don't think anything is being advertised here other than the desperation of the Anglican church to still seem in touch with the contemporary world).  
 
The spray painted images and texts - in the form of questions directed to God  - have been temporarily transferred on to the cathedral's ancient stone pillars, walls, and floors (not applied directly) with the full support of the church authorities, aiming at the kind of ugly and unimaginative aesthetic usually seen in an underground South London car park (as one critic put it).   
 
Apparently, the organisers, including David Monteith, the Dean of Canterbury, hope that the jarring contrast between the ancient architecture and the contemporary messaging will help spark conversations as well as giving voice to minority communities who often feel themselves excluded or marginalised by the church:  
 
'This exhibition intentionally builds bridges between cultures, styles and genres and in particular allows us to receive the gifts of younger people who have much to say and from whom we need to hear much.' 
 
Hmmm ... I have to confess, I'm not entirely convinced.
 
 
IV. 
 
There are two main figures behind the Hear Us project: 
 
Firstley, the award-winning British-Greek spoken word artist, producer, and playwright, Alex Vellis (who also identifies as a queer vegan).  
 
Secondly, the freelance visual arts advisor Jacquiline Creswell, who in 2024 was engaged as the Consultant Curator for the Association of English Cathedrals.  
 
I wouldn't go so far as to call them woke fanatics, but they do seem to be worryingly sincere and enthusiastic; the kind of people who really believe in what they're doing. The latter wrote of this project on her social media:    
 
"By collaborating with marginalized communities - including the Punjabi, black and brown diaspora, neurodivergent individuals, and the LGBTQIA+ population - the exhibition promotes inclusivity and representation. It transforms the cathedral into a space where diverse voices can be heard, validating their experiences and fostering a sense of belonging." [4]
 
Possibly ... But again, I'm not entirely convinced. Perhaps God isn't as cool as Vellis and Creswell think [5] and graffitiing on the walls of his house isn't the best idea. 
 
Indeed, I'm tempted to share JD Vance's tweet posted on X, which asks: 
 
'Don't these people see the irony of honoring 'marginalized communities' by making a beautiful historical building really ugly?' [6]    
 
 
Canterbury Cathedral is one of the oldest Christian structures in England 
and forms part of a World Heritage Site. 
  
 
Notes
 
[1] Jeffrey Ian Ross, 'Stop giving the Neanderthals so much credit. Why prehistoric cave painting is not graffiti' (12 August, 2021): click here
     Whilst conceding that we may not know for sure why paleolithic peoples painted on walls, Ross seems fairly certain that cave painting was a consensual act and a collective expression of those living in or around the caves; graffiti, by contrast, is usually done without permission and is seen as a form of individual self-expression.
 
[2] Recuperation is the process by which politically radical ideas and images are co-opted and commodified within corporate media culture; i.e., safely absorbed and packaged within bourgeois culture - everyone loves fucking Banksy, don't they?   
      The concept of recuperation was formulated by members of the Situationist International and was originally conceived as the opposite of their concept of détournement, in which images and other cultural artifacts are appropriated from mainstream sources and repurposed with radical intentions.
 
[3] It should be noted that the debate around graffiti in relation to the word of God is not a new one; see, for example, Fiona Burt's excellent article 'Using graffiti to spread the gospel', in Premier Christianity (September 2022): click here to read online.  
 
[4] See Creswell's Instagram post of 9 October 2025: click here
 
[5] Fans of The Simpsons might recall the tenth episode of season fourteen - 'Pray Anything' (2003) - in which Homer learns precisely this lesson, after incurring God's wrath (something that Marge foresaw, understanding as she does that God, actually, isn't all that chilled about those who desecrate a church and break his commandments): click here.
 
[6] I have slightly altered Vance's post on X, framing it as a question. The original post, dated Friday 10 October 2025, can be read by clicking here 
 
 

10 Oct 2025

Do You Know What's Funny? Do You Know What Really Makes Me Laugh? I Used to Think That Sid's Death Was a Tragedy, But Now I Realise It's a Fucking Comedy

Heath Ledger as the Joker in The Dark Knight (2008)
and an early visualisation of the character 
based on Sex Pistol Sid Vicious 
 
 
I. 
 
According to Malcolm McLaren, The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (1980) would have been a great film were it not for the incompetence of the director Julien Temple. But that's a little harsh, to be fair.
 
For in extremely trying circumstances, Temple managed to assemble (and edit) a car crash of a movie that continues to fascinate cinephiles and symphorophiles alike. And, as Malcolm himself often said, better a spectacular failure than any kind of benign success. 
 
Where I do agree with McLaren, however, is that one of the things that the film doesn't quite convey is the dark humour underlying the story of the Sex Pistols and there are those who still think of it as an unreliable documentary rather than an artistic reimagining of events; i.e., po-faced moralists obsessed with factual accuracy and what they, like Lydon, call the truth. 
 
The film should provoke laughter, but it appears to invite sorrowful reflection or remorse. 
 
This is particularly so when it comes to the case of Sid Vicious; the British Board of Film Censors insisting that the ending of the film be changed to include a real press report of his death, thereby undermining the film's disclaimer that it is a work of fiction and that any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 
 
This is done solely with the intent to induce feelings of shame, guilt, and deep regret for ever having found the Sex Pistols amusing. They - the censor-morons - want us to think that Sid's death was nothing but a tragedy, when - as Arthur Fleck would surely recognise - it was a fucking comedy all along ... [1]  
 
 
II.   

Funnily enough, the above connection made between Arthur Fleck and Sid Vicious is not the only time the latter has found himself discussed in relation to the Joker ...
 
For it turns out that Heath Ledger based his unforgettable portrayal of this DC Comics character - in part at least - on the spiky-haired Sex Pistol in The Dark Knight (2008); this having been confirmed both by the film's director, Christopher Nolan, and Ledger's co-star Christian Bale (who played Batman).   
 
And once you know this, then you understand (and maybe even appreciate) the Joker's anarcho-nihilistic sense of humour a little better, as well as his fascination with chaos and violence. One finds traces of the same mirthful malevolence in Sid's performance in the Swindle (particularly, of course, on stage at the  Théâtre de l'Empire, in Paris, singing his version of  'My Way') [2]
 
 
III.
 
Now, I know there are those out there - including many punk scholars - who hate Sid Vicious: 
 
"He is, after all, to blame for embodying one of the 20th century's most exciting art movements in the form of a drooling, talentless junkie in a swastika T-shirt" [3]
 
Similarly, there are critics who hate the character of the Joker as portrayed both by Ledger and Phoenix. 
 
In an age of mass shootings and terrorist atrocities, it is, they argue, highly irresponsible to glorify anti-social and criminal behaviour carried out by individuals who clearly have serious mental health issues.  
 
To which one can only reply: Why so serious?  
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Arthur Fleck (played by Joaquin Phoenix) became notorious in Gotham City as the clown-faced killer and aspiring stand-up comic called Joker in Todd Philips's fantastic film of that title (2019). 
      The scene in which he says the lines I have used in the title to this post (making one key alteration; replacing the words 'my life' with 'Sid's death') takes place in a hospital room, just as Fleck is about to murder his mother: click here.  
      Interestingly, Sid Vicious also kills his mother in The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle - though with a pistol, not a pillow (see link in note 2 below).    
      Julien Temple briefly discusses the new British Board of Censors approved ending to his film in the commentary provided as an extra to The Great Rock n' Roll Swindle DVD (2005): click here and go to 1:43:37. Unlike Temple, I clearly do not think this makes a good ending; on the contrary, I think it places a moral curse on all those who watch and enjoy it.            
 
[2] In The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle viewers are led to believe that Sid is performing at L'Olympia, but this venue was unavailable, so filming actually took place at Théâtre de l'Empire, using the stage set which had been built for Serge Gainsbourg. To watch the performance, click here.   
 
[3] James Medd, 'Sid Vicious: The Grubby Demon of Punk', The Rake (September 2018): click here
      It should be noted that Medd himself goes on to mount a defence of Vicious and writes: 
      "Beyond the ferret-faced, sneery urchin cartoon [...] there's another Sid, not much more real but closer to something celebratory, romantic and even meaningful. Like the Marquis de Sade or Francis Bacon [...] he took ugliness and nihilism to their extremes, and found beauty in them."   
 

9 Oct 2025

On the Figure of the Fallen Woman

Detail from Dante Gabriel Rossetti's 
unfinished painting Found (1869)
Oil on canvas (36 x 32 in) [1]
 
 
I.
 
Due to a pair of unrelated incidents, both involving American women of my acquaintance, the figure of the fallen woman has never resonated more in my imagination than now. 
 
Whilst a woman might literally fall and break her nose on a cobbled street in Soho, or split her lip as she - again quite literally - trips and bangs her head against a wall in Reading, here I wish to remark on the figure of the fallen woman as a conceptual metaphor with theological overtones. 
 
It was a metaphor that was particularly prevalent in 19th-century Britain, where it described a woman who had lost her social and moral standing (often as a result of pre- or extra-marital sex) and was heading on a downward path into poverty and/or prostitution [2].  
 
 
II. 
 
I suppose the original (or prototypical) fallen woman, i.e., the first to lose her innocence and be tempted into sin; the first to fall from God's grace, was Eve, the fruit-picking mother of us all and red-headed ophidiophile.  
 
The question I have, therefore, is this: if modern women are all the daughters of Eve, all inherit her corrupt nature inclining them towards sinfulness, disobedience, and consorting with serpents, then how much further can they fall? 
 
Does it really matter if one has a bad reputation amongst men, when one already exists outside the covenant and under judgement from God? 
 

III.  
 
D. H. Lawrence would say that the Fall wasn't into wickedness, or even carnal knowledge per se, but into self-consciousness.
 
And, in a sense, I agree with him; the real problem - particularly today, in an increasingly narcissistic and solopsistic world - is that we have fallen victim "to the developmental exigencies" [3] of our own consciousness and become enchanted by our own image or reflection, isolating us from everyone and everything else (not just God). 
 
We live according to our ideals of self: and this becomes at last a fatal form of neurosis. 
 
 
IV.   
 
Putting this Lawrentian reading to one side, however, let us return to the Victorian usage of the term fallen which, interestingly, was one that applied to a variety of women in many different settings and circumstances; not just prostitutes (and rape victims), even if the term fallen was most often conflated with unauthorised sexual knowledge and activity.
 
As always in England, class is invariably a consideration: some upper-middle class men regarded all women of a lower socio-economic status to be in some sense fallen (drunk, dirty, disagreeable, and disreputable, even if not actually on the game) [4].    
 
And, although the English sometimes like to pride themselves on their eccentricity, in some cases a woman may have been branded as fallen simply because she was unconventional and well-educated (queer in the old-fashioned sense; meaning not only odd, but ruined as a woman who would one day make a good wife and mother). 
 
Or perhaps she liked to laugh just a little too loudly; or dance just a little too wildly - in each case attracting attention to herself and forgetting the golden rule within bourgeois society of modesty and decorum at all times.     
 
 
V.
 
For a certain type of man, the great thing about a fallen woman is that she needs him to pick her up!  
 
Rescue and rehabilitation were key words in the Victorian era; fallen women needed saving by upright men, motivated by religious conviction, noble intentions, and - no doubt - for the chance to associate with known prostitutes, many of whom were very young girls.   
 
It would, I suppose, be a crass generalisation to label all Victorian men who helped fallen women as perverts - no doubt their motivations were complex and varied, ranging from genuine philanthropic concern to a paternalistic desire to exercise power and authority - but I do have reservations about those, like Gladstone, who seem overly concerned with vice and female sexuality tied to notions of chastity and innocence, etc. [5]    
 
 
VI.
 
As might be expected, male artists and writers also had a penchant for fallen women; indeed, apart from the Bible, it was Milton's Paradise Lost (1667) that most shaped the cultural (and pornographic) imagination on this issue (although the Victorians liked to think of her as more a passive victim or poor unfortunate, than as a woman who actively embraced evil, making her all the easier for them to save).  
 
In Elizabeth Gaskell's novel Mary Barton (1848), the story of Esther - a working class woman living in Manchester who ends up working as a prostitute - illustrates how even good girls go bad in times of great poverty. 
 
Whilst readers were encouraged to recognise how socio-economic factors played a significant part in her downfall, Gaskell doesn't offer us a radical politics, choosing instead to promote Christian values as the way to solve life's problems and remain an upright citizen even when times are hard. Unfortunately, prayer and reciting scripture doesn't feed hungry mouths or put shoes on the feet of children.      
 
Charles Dickens and Thomas Hardy also expressed their views on the topic of the fallen woman; the former even went so far as to set up a home for such poor creatures (Urania Cottage) [6], whilst in Tess of the d'Urbervilles (1891) the latter explores the consequences for a heroine who became a fallen woman as a result of being raped. 
 
Hardy, however, like Gaskell, ultimately couldn't fulfill the revolutionary implications of his own art due to the Victorian moral context he still worked within (whilst attempting to challenge such). D. H. Lawrence would suggest that Hardy's innate pessimism (and fatalism) didn't much help either.    

 
VII. 
 
By the mid-20th century, after the emancipation of women and their sexual activity was no longer associated so closely with moral corruption, the fallen woman as a theme had become irrelevant and, thankfully, faded from the popular imagination (even if ideas of innocence and experience; sin and redemption; vice and virtue, still bedevil us thanks to 2000 years of Christian moral culture). 
 
It's a romantic fantasy I know, but sometimes I long for the day when the snake will coil in peace about the ankle of Eve and the fruit of knowledge be finally digested; for a time when we can 'storm the angel-guarded gates and as victors travel to Eden home' [7], fallen creatures no longer, but risen beyond good and evil.  
 
 
Notes
 
[1] The theme of the fallen woman was becoming increasingly popular at the time that Dante Rossetti began this painting. Conceived in 1851, it was described by his niece Helen Rossetti as follows: 
      "A young drover from the country, while driving a calf to market, recognizes in a fallen woman on the pavement, his former sweetheart. He tries to raise her from where she crouches on the ground, but with closed eyes she turns her face from him to the wall."
      Cited in Timothy Hilton's The Pre-Raphaelites (Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1970), p. 140.  
 
[2] That's not to downplay the significance of actually falling in a physical manner, which, along with poisoning, drowning, and road accidents, is a leading cause of accidental death (and personal injury) worldwide (particularly amongst the elderly). 
      As someone who once had a nasty fall in which I spiral fractured my right leg in four places, I can vouch for the fact that falls can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere and that whether one slips, trips, stumbles, or faints in a heap, it is never fun to fall (particulary on to a hard surface or from a height of any kind). For bodies are surprisingly fragile and easily cut, bruised, and broken. 
      Interestingly, research shows that women (of all age groups) are more prone to falling than men and one wonders why that is; does gravity exert a greater pull upon them? Does possession of a penis help men stay upright and balanced?    
 
[3] Trigant Burrows, The Socal Basis of Consciousness (1927), quoted by D. H. Lawrence in his (extremely positve) review of this work; see Introductions and Reviews, ed. N. H. Reeve and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 332.
 
[4] The reality in Victorian England was that for many lower class women prostitution was the only way to make ends meet during hard economic times. Most might best be described as transient fallen women, i.e., women who moved on and off the game as financial pressures dictated. See Anne Isba, Gladstone and Women (Continuum, 2006), p. 102.  
 
[5] The British statesman and politician William Gladstone (1809 - 1898) was a man who not only enjoyed his rescue work among prostitutes - many of whom he found physically attractive and knew by name - he also liked to read pornography and indulge in self-flagellation with a whip; we know this from his own diaries. 
      Thus, whilst Gladstone may have insisted on his fidelity to his wife - who bore him eight children - clearly she didn't satisfy his more exotic sexual tastes (which were a source of deep shame to him). And if he frequented the company of many prostitutes over the years, it clearly wasn't just from a sense of moral duty.    
      See H.C.G. Matthew's biography, Gladstone 1809 - 1874 (Clarendon Press, 1997). An excerpt frpm pages 90-95 can be read on The Victorian Web: click here. As Matthew concludes:
      "Gladstone's involvement with prostitutes was [...] in no way casual, nor was it merely charitable work which might equally have taken another form [...] The time spent on it, the obvious intensity of many of the encounters [...] show how at the centre of a Victorian family and religious life was a sexual situation of great tension." 
 
[6] Urania Cottage was what we would now call a women's shelter, but which the Victorians termed a Magdalene asylum. It was established in Shepherd's Bush in 1847 by Dickens and Angela Burdett-Coutts, one of the wealthiest women in England and a well-known philanthropist.
      I don't know what conditions were like at the hostel, but one imagines it was preferable to prison or the workhouse. Dickens explained to the residents - mostly prostitutes - that although they were fallen and degraded, they weren't lost and that they would be helped to return to happiness - provided they were good girls who worked hard and behaved themselves (no bad temper; no bad language; no bad conduct). Dickens also chose the reading material available to the women - and what dresses they should wear.  
       Over time, women admitted to the house became more varied; sex workers were joined girls convicted of crimes such as theft, and those who were guilty of nothing else other than being homeless or destitute. 
 
[7] I'm quoting from memory here from D. H. Lawrence's poem 'Paradise Re-entered', in the collection Look! We Have Come Through! (Chatto & Windus, 1917), which can be read online by clicking here
      The poem is found in Volume I of the Cambridge Edition of Lawrence's poems, ed. Christopher Pollnitz (2013), on p. 197.
 
 
This post is for Lee Ellen and Jennifer.     
      
 

7 Oct 2025

Scarlet Threads

A Study in Scarlet 
(SA/2025) 
 
There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, 
and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it. [1]
 
  
I. 
 
I don't dislike the bright shade of red known as scarlet, even if I prefer other colours, such as sky-blue pink and lemon drizzle yellow. That said, the less of an orange tinge the better (I don't like the secondary colour orange).
 
 
II. 
 
Like other colours, scarlet is associated with many things but has no fixed meaning. 
 
Even Christians can't decide whether to value it as the colour of blood and thus associate it with martyrdom (think of Jesus and the miracle of transubstantiation), or as the colour of sexual passion and of sin, associated with prostitution and adultery (think of the Whore of Babylon riding a scarlet beast and Hester Prynne wearing her infamous scarlet letter). 
 
 
III. 
 
Scarlet is an old word that can be traced back to ancient Persia. But in English, from around 1250, it referred primarily to the kind of brightly coloured cloth that the rich and powerful like to drape themselves in so as to demonstrate to the world that they are, indeed, rich and powerful. 
 
The finest scarlet, called scarlatto came from Venice, where it was made from kermes [2] by a guild which closely guarded the formula, much as KFC guards its secret mix of eleven herbs and spices today. Cloth dyed scarlet cost as much as ten times more than cloth dyed blue. 
 
However, in the 16th century an even more vivid scarlet began to arrive in Europe from the New World. For when the Spanish conquered Mexico, they discovered that the Aztecs were making brilliant red shades from another variety of scale insect called cochineal
 
The first shipments of this new and improved (and significantly cheaper to produce) scarlet were sent from Mexico to Seville in 1523.
      
Naturally, the Venetians at first tried to block the use of the cochineal in Europe, insisting on the superiority of their own dye. But, before the century was over, it was being used in in Italy, just as in Spain, France, and Holland, and almost all the fine scarlet garments of Europe were eventually made with cochineal. 
 
 
IV.
 
These days, in an age of mechanical cowardice and camouflage, British soldiers all wear their drab multi-terrain patterned uniforms. But, once upon a time, they were known as the Redcoats and proudly wore scarlet tunics so as to be seen by the enemy ...
 
This distinctive uniform was a powerful symbol of national identity and British imperial rule. Sadly, it was gradually phased out during the mid-19th century and the last time the British Army wore red in active combat was during the Battle of Ginnis, in 1885 (which they won).      
 
V.
 
Turning from the world of warfare to the world of art, we find that great painters across the ages have loved to use vermilion, a form of scarlet pigment made from the powdered mineral cinnabar. 
 
However, after the First World War commercial production began of an intense new synthetic pigment -cadmium red - made from cadmium sulfide and selenium. And this new scarlet pigment soon became the standard red used by artists in the 20th century. 
 
 
VI. 
 
I've already referred in passing to Hawthorne's great novel The Scarlet Letter (1850). But there are two other scarlet works of fiction I feel I should mention ... 
 
Firstly, Conan Doyle's detective mystery which introduced Sherlock Holmes to the world, A Study in Scarlet (1888), in which the main clue to a case of multiple homicide is the German word Rache (revenge) written in blood on the wall.  
 
Secondly, The Scarlet Pimpernel (1905), by Baroness Orczy, the story of an English lord, Sir Percy Blakeney, who wore a disguise in order to rescue French nobles from the guillotine during the Reign of Terror. 
 
Sir Percy was supported by a secret society - the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel - and he left behind him a flower of the species Lysemachia arvensis as his calling card. 
 
 
VII. 
 
There is, of course, a politics of scarlet, just as there's a politics of most things (even brushing your teeth). 
 
And in the 20th century, the red flag became firmly associated in the cultural imagination with revolutionary socialism; both the Soviet Union and communist China adopted such (although the Communards beat them to it in 1871).   
 
Funnily enough, in China red is also the colour of happiness, but I'm not sure the tens of millions of people who died during Chairman Mao's Great Leap Forward (1958-62) found much to smile about. 
 
 
VIII. 
 
Something else that isn't all that funny, is the infectious illness common among young children known as scarlet fever. Although it can now be treated with antibiotics, it was once a major cause of childhood mortality. 
 
Ultimately, no one wants to see anything other than a healthy looking pink tongue; any other colour - white, yellow, black, or scarlet - and I would suggest you go see your doctor. 
 
  
IX.
 
And finally, let us not forget she who is Scarlet Johansson ...
 
Woody Allen was fiercely criticised for describing this American actress whom he had cast in his 2005 film Match Point as sexually radioactive [3]
 
But then, Woody Allen is criticised by a lot of people for a lot of things he has said and (allegedly) done. And, if I'm being honest, I understand exactly what he means and doubt there would have been so much fuss were he not considerably older than her; i.e., it's a case of ageism masquerading as moralism.
 
 
The Scarlet Pimpernel Meets Scarlett Johansson 
(SA/2025)
  
  
Notes
 
[1] Quote from A Study in Scarlet (1887) by Arthur Conan Doyle. It is in this novel that the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes, ably assisted by Dr Watson, makes his first appearance. The line is spoken by Holmes, to Watson, in an attempt to define his role as a detective. 
      For me, part of the appeal of this line is it reverses the biblical idea of a scarlet thread as a symbol of redemption and divine grace (see the story of the harlot Rahab in the Book of Joshua). 
 
[2] Kermes is a genus of gall-like scale insects in the family Kermesidae. They feed on the sap of oaks and the females produce a red dye that was the original source of natural crimson. 
 
[3] Woody Allen, Apropos of Nothing (Arcade Publishing, 2020). 
      What Allen said in full was that Miss Johansson - who was nineteen when cast in Matchpoint - was "an exciting actress, a natural movie star, real intelligence, quick and funny, and when you meet her you have to fight your way through the pheromones ... Not only was she gifted and beautiful, but sexually she was radioactive." Allen was seventy when he made the film in 2005 and eighty-five when his memoir was published in 2020. 
      Whilst this is not meant to be a post about Woody Allen and the accusations of abuse made against him, I would like to say shame on all those at the Hatchette Book Group who played a part in preventing the book's original publication with Grand Central Publishing. 
      As for Johansson, whilst she has expressed displeasure at being hypersexualised, she has also admitted being flattered that people find her attractive. I think that the film critic Anthony Lane hits the nail on the head when he writes that she is "evidently, and profitably, aware of her sultriness, and of how much, down to the last inch, it contributes to the contours of her reputation". 
      See Lane's piece in The New Yorker entitled 'Her Again' (24 March, 2014), Vol. 90, No. 5, pp. 56-63.