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The Stranglers, of course, thought there were no more heroes. I prefer David Bowie’s view that we can all be heroes. The great and godlike Cohen talks of lonely and quarrelsome heroes, each beneath his ordinary load.

Are there heroes any more? There’s poor ‘locked-in’ Tony Nicklinson, who died this week, bearing his far from ordinary load, fighting to die and making an adolescent public think about grown-up issues once more. Who owns our bodies? God? David Cameron? The High Court? Or us?

God, repellent right-wing US Republicans would say. The truly disgusting Republican senator Todd Akin and his vile remarks about rape threw up another hero, Shauna Prewitt: she was raped, became pregnant and with extraordinary courage kept and, more, loved her baby. She had the guts to go public with her testimony about freedom and thereby nail Akin for what he is: a truly odious apology for a human being.

But Akin’s not alone and it’s hard not to worry that the villains outnumber the heroes: just look at the Republican party convention this week.

The convention, which will nominate Mormon billionaire Mitt Romney as candidate for President, includes a large contingent of crazies who believe in fundamentalist religion. Many believe it right to protect the rich, deny women freedom, ‘cure’ homosexuals, prevent health care for those in need, remove aid from the elderly. Some of them have, tragically, been elected and use their power to prevent children being taught about evolution – incredibly, creationist theory is tauight by law in many US schools.

The crazies peddle lies about Barack Obama being born in Kenya and label him a ‘socialist’ because they are – in the 21^st century, for goodness’ sake – threatened by his colour and afraid of his decency and have absolutely no idea whatsoever what socialism is.

The Observer described these people:

“Some of them believe Barack Obama was born in Kenya. Others want to force raped women who become pregnant to have their child. There are those who vilify Obama as a socialist and want to do away with most of the federal government. A fair few doubt the theory of evolution or hold that gays can be ‘cured’.

“The week leading up to the convention was supposed to see a media rollout of Romney as a president-in-waiting. Instead it was dominated by an ugly row centred on a Republican Missouri Senate candidate, congressman Todd Akin, who used the phrase ‘legitimate rape’ while talking about denying abortions to pregnant rape victims.

“Romney called on him to leave the race and the Republican national committee chairman, Reince Priebus, asked him not to come to Tampa. But in a sign of how little control the party’s elite has over its base, Akin refused to step down and last week was spotted in Tampa meeting social conservative groups. At the same time it was revealed that Akin supporters had coughed up $100,000 for his campaign funds in two days.

“But party bigwigs should perhaps not be surprised. Though Akin’s language was shocking, his views are not too different from the party’s official policy platform – in defiance of Romney. Indeed that extreme position on abortion is one historically shared by Paul Ryan, the outspoken Wisconsin conservative picked by Romney as his running mate.”

It gets worse.

Michele Bachmann, who appeared on national TV debates as a rival to Romney, will speak at the convention and perhaps reiterate her view that homosexuality is “part of Satan”. Ted Cruz will speak too: he believes Islamic sharia law is an “enormous problem” in America, says elected officials should not take part in gay pride parades and believes the UN  is conspiring to undermine US economy and sovereignty. Pizza mogul Herman Cain will be there too, though his stupidity was cruelly exposed during the presidential campaign. He believes in slashing government spending and a flat rate of tax for all, whether they be pauper or Mitt Romney. (Actually, that would probably mean Romney paying more tax). Ludicrous ‘tycoon’ Donald Trump will be there, perhaps talking about his ‘birther movement’, the campaign that says Obama can’t be President because he was not born in America (it chooses not to mention the Republicans’ last choice as candidate, John McCain, who was born in Panama).

What a parade of villains, posturing before an electorate so cretinously stupid they think it’s OK to support rich folk feathering their own nest, peddling outdated bigotries and hatreds: they prefer to hate gays and women than to learn tolerance, understanding and fairness.

Truly, it’s hard to think heroes can still exist, but we must try to believe: there are people, like Shauna Prewitt, standing up for decency against these scum. We must support them.

Back in this country, George Galloway should be a hero. Indeed, his remarks about rape showed once again that he has courage in tackling issues. But sadly, his remarks also showed that courage can be badly misused: he has no idea of empathy, carefulness or consideration. People like George are the curse of the left: confronted with the open goal of the foul greed and bigotry of the life-denying right, they still manage to sky the ball over the stand and into the long grass beyond. Every time.

There’s one way George can stand shoulder to shoulder with Michael Gove, a right-winger so utterly loony he’s tried to defend the idea of giving two sets of people the same exam, but with different marking criteria, so one bunch can pass and the others fail, though they’ve scored the same. Truly, only Gove could preside over such a shambles as the GCSE marks. “Not my problem,” was his initial defence – though he’s only too happy to assume the responsibilities of the minister for education when he advises schools to invite unqualified strangers in off the streets to stand by the Macdonald’s concession in his free academies and teach fat kids about nutrition. Now there’s a villain.

Crown jewels

Some claim Prince Harry is a hero. Well, I don’t think so, though his military service makes him undeniably brave. But neither do I think he’s much of a villain – even though, as I write this on Monday morning, one news website in the US alleges there’s something “pretty gigantic” still to come out of Harry’s naked Vegas trip.

Pretty gigantic? I didn’t think so….

Harry’s naked romp has underlined that people who spend vast amounts of public money and ask for deference do pay a price for those luxuries: it’s the expectation that they behave with some dignity.

It has also underlined that nobody, least of all unelected aristocrats, should tell you or I what we can or cannot see and read. We decide that. So the unlikeliest of heroes, to my profound regret, has been the editor of The Sun, who defied the unelected and printed Harry in the buff.

Given all that, I wonder if Harry has started a trend – if we can have strip billiards, can we not, in Cornwall, have a grand media launch for the new Olympic sport of strip euchre? Now that’s what I call a benny and two bowers!

I can’t stand the rain

This so-called ‘summer’ of 2012 is more than something to moan about, I thought, as I gazed at sheets of rain blowing across the valley-side opposite and listened to the splashing and crashing of the river running down the hilly road outside. Again.

On our little scale, it’s meant damp, humid weather inside and out – Management found mould inside her leather boots the other day, and when I pulled a pair of jeans I hadn’t worn for ages from the hanger rail, here too were rain-borne spots.

It’s meant damp towels – the heating is off, so the towel rail is off, towels can’t be hung outside and the sun doesn’t penetrate the sun room at the top end of the house any more. Is there any little misery more intense than damp towels?

It’s meant children climbing the walls, yearning to be free.

It’s meant going through two sets of boots early because of constant wear, while trainers and sandals sit idle.

It’s meant a host of outside jobs – garden, windows, painting, gutters, fascias – have simply not been done and must somehow survive another winter.

It’s meant the constant smell of wet pet. It’s meant slipping and sliding in the mud when walking the dog – no pleasure in walking when you’re fighting to keep your grip all the time.

It’s meant precisely two out of about 14 cricket sessions for the boys.

It’s meant no days on the beach.

It’s meant many events have been cancelled or badly affected, with consequent loss to business and charity.

And of course it has meant the nightly plummet of the spirits as the weather forecasters gurn their way through another epistle of doom.

And on a global scale? Something’s not right, though many would say that “something’s not right” is the status quo: difference, oddity, freak conditions are in fact the norm in weather patterns.

But heatwave in Europe, drought in America, less Arctic ice than at any time since measurement began? Doesn’t it all make you very frightened? What of our children and grandchildren?

On the bright side, it’s meant that as I travelled down to Redruth last Friday I was able to observe, on the other side of the A30, mile after mile of cars, caravans and camper vans full of people quietly cursing that they’ll never be so foolish as to cross the Tamar for a ‘summer’ holiday again, meaning that maybe Cornwall at last will have to return to making things, selling things and doing things rather than simply fleecing English people.

I cannot imagine that I, personally, face to face, have ever seen so much human unhappiness packed so tightly as on Cornwall’s roads in a wet August. So that cheered me up. Briefly – until Sunday, tragically, claimed two victims in a crash on the A30.

Today, Monday, it’s back to the rain. And as for tomorrow… it may be just another day, but it’s just another rainy day.

Living in the past

I spent last Friday mainly in the 19^th century. It was lovely. I sat in a library, reading books, looking up stories, reading of people and places long gone and their extraordinary lives. Yes, they had rickets. But think of the things they didn’t have: Todd Akin. Republicans. EastEnders. George Galloway. And think of the things we have because of them: health care. Drains. Trade unions. Education. Yes. They’re my heroes.