Breast Cancer Awareness

If it's October it must be all about breast cancer so here goes. First, let's demolish two common beliefs about the disease:

1. If it hurts, it's not cancer. FALSE.

2. If it doesn't hurt, it's not cancer. FALSE.

That's right folks, the presence or absence of pain is irrelevant to a diagnosis.

3. Three-quarters of women treated for breast cancer are cured. TRUE. Unfortunately, there's no way yet of predicting who will be in the lucky 75 per cent.

4. Chemotherapy makes you puke a lot and your hair falls out. Often FALSE. Reactions to chemotherapy vary greatly. Some people sail through it, some suffer, most are in between.

5. "My husband won't love me if I have a breast removed." Usually FALSE but if TRUE dump him.

6. "You're too young to have breast cancer." "I'm a man so I can't get breast cancer." Both are FALSE.

For more, see the link at the bottom of the left-hand column.

Airport Security

At Luton Airport, years before the Twin Towers fell, I remonstrated with one of a pair of armed security guards who was standing around with his sub-machine gun held horizontally. Worse, he was pointing it at my wife's ear as we sat waiting for our flight.

"That's all right sir," he replied. "It's not loaded."

Basic rule of guns: never point them at anyone, especially if you think there are no bullets in them. "Empty" guns kill people every year when someone presses the trigger for a laugh. Second thought: What's the use of an armed security guard whose gun isn't loaded?

His oppo, somewhat older, held his weapon with the barrel pointing down.

So, what was that all about? I think I know the answer but would appreciate reading what other people have to say.

Impressing the Brummies

Time: Evening, early 1960s.
Place: Upstairs room in the Stage Door Club, Birmingham, England (despite the name, it was a coffee bar).
Present: Numerous Brummies, mostly in couples, looking unimpressed by anything. It's something young Birmingham people do so well. Their attitude (back then): "Impress me if you can - but we both know you won't."

In walks a man significantly older than the usual crowd, with a banjo of all things. Worse, he starts to play it. The crowd remains "cool" and unimpressed. Maybe two or three of us recognise one of the tunes in his opening medley. At the end a few clap, politely, stopping with quick embarrassment as they realise you just don't applaud middle-aged banjo players when surrounded by your "cool" mates.

The banjo player, undeterred, announces the names of the tunes he's just played. We were right - the last one was Cripple Creek.
Then he tells the crowd they're going to sing. Sing? That's not cool, that's what your parents do round the piano in their local pub, usually when they've had an un-cool few too many pints of beer. Worse, he announces he wants them to sing in four-part harmony. An African song. In some African language. For heaven's sake...!

We wait for the assembled caffeine addicts to either:

a) throw him out of the window
b) boo him off the floor
c) walk out

or (the most likely)

d) ignore him to death. They could do this superbly, back then.

We squirm with empathetic embarrassment as he first divides the crowd into four groups, then sings the first of the four parts he wants them to sing. Whoever this fellow is - a Yank of some kind by his nasal accent - he's going to die a death worse than any Sassenach comedian doing a Monday matinee at the Glasgow Empire.

A few feeble voices join him. "Great!" he roars. "Now let's hear it from group two!" This time, a slightly stronger response. "Third group!" he yells, singing along with them. By the time group four tries their part, the people in the other groups who didn't sing when it was their turn join them. He jokingly chides them for singing in the wrong group, then does another run-through.

Amazing! They're eating out of his hand. He's got them singing in a language they don't know, in four-part harmony, and they're loving it. They can't get enough! He plays and sings for over an hour and they won't let him go. Who is this amazing man? "My name's Pete Seeger," he responds.

Masonic code, perhaps?

No, it's not one of those brain-bending crossword clues but a serious enquiry.

Someone says that the statement "You're up against powerful men" is a coded warning that Freemasons (or a group of them) are united against you. Can anyone confirm this?

If it is true, how worried should the person be who received the warning?