Background briefings on W with the White House hacks

0 Comments | Sunday Herald, The, Jul 10, 2005 | by Tom Shields

THEY may well ask me in years to come: what did you do in the Gleneagles G8 summit, Grandpa? I will have to tell them I mostly watched events from my sofa. Not that this vantage point was without hazard.

When news came through that George W Bush had been involved in some seriously dangerous cycling, I laughed so much I nearly fell off the sofa. As President Bush knows, falling off the couch can be a dangerous and painful business, with or without the full pretzel.

I very nearly had the chance, at last, to contact the National Accident Helpline. As watchers of daytime television will know, the National Accident Helpline is who you contact if you have taken a wee tumble at your work. They send you back a cheque, usually for pounds-4800, but more if you've fallen off a lorry.

The Strathclyde polisman whom George W crashed into will no doubt be getting in touch with the National Accident Helpline, although he might be better advised to pursue his court case in the USA where damages are even higher. I'd recommend the injured PC to hire Latino lawyer Victor Sifuentes of LA Law. This guy can go for months on daytime ITV3 without losing a case. It is ironic that some of the most painful collateral damage to a Scottish bobby during the G8 manoeuvres should be at the hands of the US president. The commander- in-chief appears to be a skilled exponent of the American art of friendly fire.

The Buffer's time during G8 week was not all spent on the sofa. I got to meet some members of the White House press corps who were able to give a background briefing on the president's reckless cycling. Apparently our man W is possessed of testosterone-fuelled energy which he vents via furious bouts of mountain-biking. W didn't get a chance to cycle during his two days in Denmark earlier last week and it all came out on the pathways of Gleneagles.

The Buffer did not have to move too far from the sofa to encounter the White House journalists. They were billeted in the Glasgow Hilton throughout the summit. They had been looking forward to country house charm amidst glens, bens, with eagles and the occasional Chinook helicopter flying over.

Instead, they got downtown Anderston with views of the crack whores and the cement jungle. The only flyover was the one on to the Kingston Bridge.

Some of them did get to sample genuine Scottish food at the Ubiquitous Chip. As it happened, the menu offered the chance to have oatmeal with all three courses: in the venison haggis, the skirliestuffed quail, and the Chip's famous crannachan ice cream. Thankfully, Jacques Chirac couldn't make it to the Chip because of other engagements.

The Buffer is able to adorn the White House press corps with a hint of tartan. Richard Wolffe, Newsweek's senior White House correspondent, is a Gorbals boy. Well, his grandfather moved to Gorbals from Lithuania, and the family lived there for about 30 years at the turn of last century before moving on to London. The Scottish-Lithuanian combination of nature, nurture and hard work has always been a potent recipe for the advancement of the lad or lass o' pairts and Mr Wolffe is a fine example. Also, away from the sofa, I have been receiving expert witness from a coeval whose enthusiasm for G8 protest puts the Buffer to shame. Your man dressed in white and went on the march in Edinburgh to make poverty history.

He met that Gina Rossi from River City and had a few glasses of post-protest wine. Then he went to a play about genocide which was entirely in Serbo-Croat and lasted for two hours.

On Wednesday he put on his bandana with the marijuana-leaf motif and went to Auchterarder. He didn't get into the illegal fields of barley and, indeed, remonstrated with two anarchists who were throwing eggs at the polis. He has had a good G8 campaign to tell any grandweans about and has had a lot of fun. It's not surprising. Adventure-wise, there's been no stopping him since he got his bus pass.

I was tempted to join the Clandestine Insurgent Rebel Clown Army. Their pacific and ironic approach appeals to the Buffer who has some previous convictions in the area of protest. In the great student uprising of May 1968, we occupied Glasgow University's Adam Smith building (named after some Fife capitalist theoretician, apparently). It was us sensible engineering types in the Strathclyde Uni cadre who remembered to take along a carry-out.

I already have a uniform for the rebel clown army: various colourful shirts and a permanently red nose. I didn't join eventually because I checked the website and the clown army's training regime is far too rigorous. I have seen various videos of the clowns on manoeuvres and they brought a rare smile to the G8 protest proceedings, even to the faces of police in riot gear on the frontline.

These clips were from alternative sources such as indymedia. uk. org. It has to be said the coverage by mainstream print and electronic media has been predictable and boring. But not as tedious as all those Live8 concerts. Yet again the denizens of the corrupt music industry got their rocks off supposedly in a good cause.