Martin Gibson, there was the mother of fights a few years ago between progressive and orthodox Jews about whether a piece or wire should be strung around a huge swathe of north London. This piece of wire was deemed to enclose an eruv - an area contained within a man-made boundary, and within which orthodox Jews were free to perpetrate crimes against G-d (*G*) such as the pushing of prams, the carrying of house keys and the using of phones to report the presence of intruders - on the sabbath!!!

McG may have got himself into a muddle, but that's no excuse for lashing out at the media with all that "we can't trust what we read in the papers" stuff, and claiming we have gaively rushed to judgment without knowing the facts. I'm not sure what bit he's reluctant to take on trust. That the play was written by a Sikh woman? That the production was cancelled? That there was mob violence? And I can't see what "context" he thinks he's put it in, to help us understand.

Kendall, I'm sorry to see you refusing, or unable, to raise your game an intellectual notch of two in this thread. Brilliantly subtle as you must think your sarcasm was, I am quite sure - as I expect everyone else was - that Terry'sresponse was not to the silly comment but the even sillier message behind it. Just read the rest of his post to see where he's coming from.

In fact just as some posters were drfting towards "both sides have rights" positions, as though the Birmingham spat is about the rules of debate, Terry K's cracking post was a timely reminder that it is about artistic expression, pure and simple. It seems self-evident to me that in a free world such expression should not be compromised.

I've just been reading again Oscar Wilde's extraordinary, and obviously unrehearsed responses under cross-examination when he prosecuted an eccentric bully for criminal libel. Some if it was uncannily relevant. For instance Wilde was invited to condemn a short story, "The Priest and the Acolyte," which seems to have been an 1894 equivalent of "Behzti".

Edward Carson: You are of the opinion that there is no such thing as an immoral book? — Wilde: Yes.

You think "The Priest and the Acolyte" was not immoral? — It was worse: it was badly written.

Was not the story that of a priest who fell in love with an altar boy [...] and was discovered in the priest's room, and a scandal arose? — [...] I didn't care for it. It doesn't interest me.

Do you think the story blasphemous? — I think it violated every artistic canon of beauty.

That is not an answer? — It is the only one I can give.

I wish to know whether you thought the story blasphemous? — I thought it disgusting.

You know that when the priest poisons the boy he uses the words of the sacrament of the Church of England? — That I entirely forgot.

Do you consider that blasphemous? I think it is horrible. "Blasphemous" is not a word of mine.

Do you approve of those words? — I think them disgusting, perfect twaddle. [...] But I do not believe that any book or work of art ever had any effect whatever on morality.

Later Wilde was questioned about a book to which allusion was made in his novel, "The Picture of Dorian Gray":

Was the book to which you refer a moral book? — Not well written, but it gave me an idea.

Was not the book of a certain tendency? — I decline to be cross-examined upon the work of another artist. It is an impertinence and a vulgarity.

When later put on trial for gross indecency etc, Wilde was asked about poems by Alfred Douglas:

Charles Gill: The tone of the poems met with your critical approval? — It was not for me to approve or disapprove. [...] It is not for me to explain the work of anyone else. [...] It appears to be a question of taste, temperament and individuality. I should say that one man's poetry is another man's poison. (Laughter.)

Lastly, Wilde's celebrated response when asked about a specific line by Alfred Douglas, well worth an airing on any pretext:

What is the "Love that dare not speak it's name"? — "The Love that dare not speak its name" in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep, spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo and those two letters of mine [to rent boys] such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as the "Love that dare not speak its name", and on account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between and elder and a younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so, the world does not understand. The world mocks at it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it. (Loud applause, mingled with some hisses.)

I suppose if it had been down to Kendall, we'd still be where they were in 1895. And McG would be carefully balancing the degrees to which Wilde and Queensbury were respectively in the wrong.