LAST year, Panorama reporter Ben Anderson made a Bafta short-listed programme called Taking On The Taliban. This eye-opening over-the-shoulder account of the Queen's Company, Grenadier Guards fighting in Afghanistan featured 24-year-old Lance Corpora
l Jack Mizon, whose experiences Anderson felt deserved further exposure.
The result was Jack – A Soldier's Story, a sad, troubling film highlighting the difficulties many young recruits endure when trying to adjust back into civilian life. Although only the same age as the nation's hero Prince Harry, Jack was already a veteran of four tours of duty in just five years' service. His commanding officer described him as brave to the point of recklessness, although it was clear that he was liked and respected by all.
Despite his penchant for always charging in at the front, brandishing as big a gun as possible, Jack wasn't some kill-happy grunt. Rather, when Anderson first met him he was counting down the days until he could return home to Tottenham. "I wouldn't like to die out here," he shrugged. "Your name will be on Sky News for a day and then you're forgotten."
Just before filming began, Jack's platoon had been ambushed by a suicide bomber, resulting in the death of two of his close colleagues, and serious injuries for the rest. Although understandably scarred by this experience, Jack preferred to keep his pain bottled up, despite Anderson's gentle suggestions that this probably wasn't a very good idea.
Suffice to say, it wasn't. When he eventually returned home, Jack, according to his parents, was distant and withdrawn, and unwilling to talk about his experiences. He subsequently became embroiled in two pub fights, including one in which he assaulted a police officer.
Jack promptly found himself in the bizarre position of being awarded for his bravery in Afghanistan and then stripped of his rank later that same day. Facing four years in prison, Jack went AWOL, clearly in the grip of an anguished private breakdown. After he eventually turned himself in, the decorated war veteran was fortunate to get off with a hefty fine and community service.
"I'm not a bad guy," he maintained, and he wasn't. Instead, he was indicative of the way in which soldiers primed to fight and kill, and used to elevated levels of responsibility, respect and camaraderie, often find it impossible to revert to any semblance of normality. Jack Mizon is just another helpless victim of an interminable, unwinnable war.
The almost unbearable attraction of British Style Genius was the prospect of hearing Kate Moss actually speak. Imagine the anticipation of listening to a previously unearthed recording of Harpo Marx in deep conversation with Nick Drake, then heighten that excitement by a million.
So what's Kate really like? Croaky, flighty and slightly irritating, it would seem. Also, in repose, she looks not unlike Small Faces front man Steve Marriot. Who'd have thought?
Once this seismic revelation was dispensed with, the programme became less of an advert for Moss's fashion range and more of a fairly diverting examination of the development of post-Quant high street fashion.
Experts repeatedly banged on about how Britain is a world leader in the democratisation of fashion, although I was more interested in the fantastic archive footage of Twiggy and co in their King's Road pomp.
I know the 1960s weren't really one long DayGlo romp, but these clips burnished the myth nicely.
The full article contains 585 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
