Peter Rhodes: Near-miss or near-hit?

GREAT names demand great dramas. How could Harrison Ford fly his aircraft into John Wayne Airport without something exciting happening?

THE something in question was one of those incidents we bizarrely call a near-miss, when it is actually a near-hit.

"NEAR-miss" is an example of odd words being used so often that eventually people come to accept them. I referred some months ago to a new information board at our local pub. A slab of text in the middle has obviously been lifted from another document by the computer; the sign is pure gibberish. And yet it's still on show. Meanwhile, our local hospice charity shop has a mural of words of support and appreciation from patients' families. These words have been extracted from a letter, the mural has doubtless been agreed by a committee, the design has presumably been proof-read by somebody. In big, bold letters it declares: "I cannot praise the support and help my family have had." This is the exact opposite of what the writer intended. But there it is, for all to see.

MEANWHILE, there's a shortage of cars in Ghana. When the new government took office recently, it ordered an audit of all the ministers' limos on the books. About 200 vehicles, including 122 Toyota Land Cruisers, have mysteriously vanished. It is suspected that some have been taken home by members of the former government. Easily done, isn't it? One day you accidentally take home an office ballpoint pen, the next a few paperclips, the next a Land Cruiser. One of the former government's spin-doctors has accused the new administration of "embarrassing the country in the sight of the international community" by highlighting the issue. It's a fine old political tradition. If the news is bad, shoot the messenger.

INCIDENTALLY, if you're sniggering at Ghana, ask yourself how many of Britain's warplanes, tanks, frigates, submarines and destroyers are where they are supposed to be, and fit for action. Borrowing a government-owned limo is a form of theft but having half our military hardware in workshops, dry docks or cannibalised to keep the other half working is a form of treason.

THE Early Learning Centre stands accused of "stone age" attitudes to gender for a marketing leaflet showing little boys dressed as heroes and little girls as princesses. A campaign called Let Toys Be Toys thunders: "Girls are passive princesses while wise, smart, active boys save the day? Very disappointing." The inconvenient fact, as most of us who have raised daughters will confirm, is that almost before they are out of their own pram, little girls want a mini-pram of their own and a baby doll to go in it. We tried really hard to rear a gender-neutral child but at 18 months, on her first trip to the big toy shop she plunged into the display and returned embracing a Tiny Tears and cooing: "Dolly, dolly, dolly!" in pure joy. It is in their genes.

I AM not alone in being unimpressed with Let Toys Be Toys. From a cyberstorm of derision, I liked this: "Where can I find a neutral coloured androgenous superperson costume for my non gender-specific child?"