By Paula Thelwell
IN expressing his opinion to a Scrutiny panel earlier this month, Economic Development Minister Kirsten Morel was reported by this newspaper as saying that the air display could benefit from “an element of modernisation”.
Such as moving it to a Saturday, as has happened with the Battle of Flowers to broaden its appeal and draw in more locals and visitors.
I was with the Deputy on this, as the bigger the crowd, the greater potential to raise funds for the Royal Air Forces Association Benevolent Fund.
Where our paths diverged was his rejection of reviving the event’s association with the Battle of Britain. Moreover, he opined, in the current world such militaristic associations would not be welcome.
Deputy Morel has the right to his views; I respect that but the freedom of speech we enjoy today – and which is increasingly under threat – did not come cheap.
We must never forget the sacrifice of those who fought in the Battle of Britain, and not just British people and those from Commonwealth countries Canada, Australia, New Zealand and the West Indies. Pilots also came from the newly occupied countries of Europe such as France, Poland, Czechoslovakia and Belgium, who escaped at great risk to fight on.
They held a German invasion at bay when Britain was at its weakest following the evacuation from Dunkirk.
The average age of the pilots in the Battle of Britain – known as The Few – was just 20. We owe them a great deal more than naming air shows in their honour.
The minister’s suggestion as reported “that modern aircraft, sustainably fuelled aircraft, prototypes talking about the future rather than the past could be much more ‘grabbing’ for Islanders – and not just for Islanders” misunderstands the raison d’être of air displays
Who wants to watch an electric plane wobble over St Aubin’s Bay?
The principal draw at air shows the world over are the warbirds – combat, non-combat and supersonic performing impressive aerobatic manoeuvres at full deafening throttle.
And no such event is complete without vintage aircraft such as the Spitfire, Hurricane and Lancaster of the RAF Memorial Flight.
And in the UK, any event that can’t promise the Red Arrows for the finale might as well not bother.
The argument that air shows are too militaristic for these sensitive times could be extrapolated to call for an end to all major anniversaries – First World and Second World Wars, Remembrance Sunday, Armistice Day and hey, even Liberation Day.
Because without military might and the extraordinary courage of ordinary people who performed extraordinary acts of bravery in the face of death to defeat Fascism, Jersey would never have been liberated.
Lest we forget.
Mine’s bigger than yours!
In the 1990s, comedian Harry Enfield and chums Paul Whitehouse and Kathy Burke made us chuckle with a motley collection of characters.
Tim Nice-but-Dim Esq, Loadsamoney, The Self-Righteous Brothers, Kevin the Teenager – and his sidekick Perry – and argumentative toddlers Harry and Lulu, to name a few.
A recent story about two warring neighbours in Britain’s most expensive coastal resort, Sandbanks peninsula in Poole, Dorset, reminded yours truly of two other characters who epitomised the nouveau riche.
Stan and Pam Herbert from Birmingham took great pleasure in bragging about their wealth to all and sundry: “We are considerably richer than you.” The last word being pronounced “yow” in an exaggerated Brummie accent.
Ironically, the joke was always on them, as an obvious lack of class and taste on their part always failed to impress those the Herberts considered inferior.
As reported this week in The Times, a wealthy owner of one of Sandbanks’ new super-homes is objecting to a neighbour’s planning application for a £12m redevelopment because it would be twice as big as the existing house (around 16 times the size of an average British home) and include 17 parking spaces.
This affluent neighbourhood – known as the UK Palm Beach – occupies a narrow spit of dune land comprising just over a third of a square mile. It has in recent times become distinguished by older properties being replaced by bigger flashy mansions to reflect the size of the owner’s bank balance.
I couldn’t think of a more ghastly place to live. If I had £12m to spend on a house it would certainly not be one packed so closely together and crammed onto a small patch of land likely to be swallowed up by rising sea levels.
But Sandbanks is a “des res” for the rich; buying there is a statement of status and wealth, even if that means living cheek by jowl, overlooked with little privacy and subjected to light and noise pollution from bling properties on either side.
No doubt Enfield’s characters would have the biggest gross design on the patch and enjoy bragging loudly about their wealth from some towering balcony.
As the phrase goes: “Money can’t buy you class.”
