The past few weeks have seen our prospective leaders battling it out over policy details, every last penny of their budgets, and the pressing question of political and parliamentary reform.

But there is one subject that craves immediate attention: immigration and asylum, considered by the British public to be the second most important issue, behind the economy, of this general election.

It is hardly surprising that politicians would rather be seen supporting a traditionally British (preferably fledgling) business, rather than photographed at an asylum centre, trying to find out what they can do to improve conditions, given how little effect the latter would have on their poll ratings.

They all agree, loudly and publicly, on the need to secure the economic recovery and to lower class sizes, but not one of them seems to be interested in developing a more humane asylum system.

The consensus among the Labour, Liberal Democrat and Conservative Parties is that the immigration system needs to change, but by change they don’t mean that it should be made fairer — by, for instance instituting a fairer weekly allowance for single women and their children, or a better standard of living — they mean that fewer immigrants should be allowed into Britain, and those who are here should have a less obvious presence in cities and towns across the country.

The tragic reality of our asylum system made itself abundantly clear when, in March of this year, a Russian family committed suicide — jumping from the fifteenth floor of their Red Road flat in Glasgow. Having already had their benefits removed, Serge Serykh, along with his wife and child, died on the day they were told they must vacate their flat.

It was convenient for the media that, days after the suicide, it emerged that Serge had suffered from mental health problems. As the case faded away, the papers all came to the conclusion that asylum policy wasn’t to blame after all because Serge was given indefinite leave to remain in Canada, but, after accusing the authorities there of various subversive plots, left in 2007.

On reaching Britain, the family were placed in the Red Road estate. The family found themselves amongst hundreds of asylum seekers left in the flats; a sort of purgatory for those awaiting government ruling on their futures. It is no wonder that the area has been nicknamed The United Nations of Hell. And in fact the flats, synonymous with urban destitution, are now facing demolition.

On March 14, a demonstration was held in Glasgow in support of asylum seekers’ rights, with the Serykh family tragedy acting as a catalyst for this event. Over two hundred people marched from the Red Road estate to George Square with banners and placards.

One young woman from Gambia attended the protest with her children. She explained to me what problems she faced living in the flats. She said that she often spent nights piled into other friend’s apartments because the area is so unsafe. As a result of a government funding cut for asylum seeker support, she and her family have to survive on less than £50 a week. She described her struggle to maintain even a bare minimum standard of living on this amount. Her case has been rejected by the appeals tribunal and she is now simply waiting for the knock on the door from the deportation officials.

It has been all too easy for our political leaders to draw a cast-iron curtain of indifference over the immigration debate. And it is, therefore, just as easy for the general public to buy into the stereotypes that immigrants and asylum seekers want to avoid working, or can’t speak English, or are showered with cash, or all of the above.

A government survey in February showed that 77% of British people want to see immigration reduced, and 50% of men and 52% of women want to see it reduced by “a lot”. The recent influx of Eastern European labourers has increased fears that immigration threatens British jobs and wages. This fear — which disregards that fact that more than one million Britons live and work in other EU countries — further intensifies hostility towards those most in need of fair and compassionate treatment, especially in a time of rising unemployment.

The uniformity of opinion within the three main Westminster parties has given credence to the claims of the far-right. The British National Party unveiled its manifesto last week with a pledge to halt any further immigration from Muslim countries, and developed this policy on the preposterous assertion that indigenous British people will be in a minority by 2050. The sound and the fury of the ultra-right began to dominate the immigration debate some years ago and those who have had the opportunity to stem the tide of anti-immigrant rhetoric have failed to do so.

Last week, the BBC’s flagship news programme Panorama addressed the possibility that the United Kingdom is becoming overcrowded and, despite its bleak predictions, managed to remain relatively free of hyperbole. Nonetheless, it added strings to the bows of those who wish to take aim at vulnerable new residents in Britain.
Tales of wrongly detained torture victims, humiliating procedural checks and general neglect slide under the radar in favour of  more crowd-pleasing talk about points systems and population caps.

After the Red Road march, the Glasgow Campaign to Welcome Refugees stated that “the economic situation, the closeness of the general election, and the increasing threat from the BNP can only increase the temptation for politicians to ratchet up the scape-goating of asylum seekers.” This prediction has been proven correct, as the leaders’ debates have been characterised by rampant populism — the operative words have unquestionably been “cutting” and “decreasing”.

The dark side of this debate has been in the spotlight for too long. It shouldn’t be about how many people are here and what they cost. We are not talking about the national deficit. Immigrants and asylum seekers are not abstract numbers. There needs to be a calm and rational debate about what the best model for an ethical immigration system is. That will begin when public opinion is no longer dictated by a tiny, hate-filled minority, which knows only how to spread distrust and disorder.

Lucia Hodgson discusses the prospects of an economic revival with the Liberal Democrat’s deputy leader and Treasury spokesperson

Official figures released this week show that the UK started to clamber its way out of a tiresome, messy recession at the end of 2009. But it is clear that Vince Cable, the Liberal Democrat Treasury spokesperson, has issues with this, as he furrows his brow at the prospect of a revival. “The British economy is still very weak indeed, whatever the numbers show, and I could certainly envisage a relapse.”

It is hard to believe that it has been two years since the financial downturn began — and, for many of us, the word recession entered our vocabulary. It feels like only yesterday that we were being promised the end of astronomical banking bonuses, and told that ballooning house prices were a sign of trouble. Some of us have been too busy job-hunting, or worrying about paying this winter’s heating bill, to notice if anything has really changed.

And now, as hundreds of Cadbury workers face losing their jobs in the wake of CEO Todd Stitzer’s eye-wateringly lucrative sale of the British institution, we are left wondering if the banks ever really changed their agendas? As if the wound wasn’t deep enough already, it’s worth noting that the taxpayer-owned Royal Bank of Scotland is funding the takeover.

Further, for a government which owns a substantial portion of the domestic banking industry, it has said very little to reassure us that anything has in fact changed, as the banks prepare to fire off another round of bonuses.

Cable is perturbed by this, too: “Worryingly little has changed and there is a mentality in the City which is very much business as usual and this is very dangerous.”

Barack Obama, on the other hand, has bluntly promised taxpayers he will get them back “every dime”. Does Cable think bankers’ buddy Brown will make a similar statement? “I think he should, he should be tough on the banks, and I think the government have been too weak. What I think the British Government should have done, but haven’t yet done, is to require the banks to pay the taxpayer a levy, an insurance premium, for the risk that the taxpayer runs, because they are effectively guaranteed by the taxpayer. Much like car insurance, the banks enjoy insurance from the state, but they don’t pay for it. We want that rectified.”

Banking used to be a lot less troublesome than this. The ethics of building societies and mutuals have been lost in the downward spiral of risky investment and bonus culture, which rewards the ugly notions of excess and risk. Even after the crash, bankers still seem to be motivated by the sweet glut of profits which investment banking promises.

“The government are acutely embarrassed by the upsurge in bonuses in the last few weeks,” Cable says, “particularly in the nationalised banks. It was because they were embarrassed that they introduced this special one-off tax on bank bonuses, which we have criticised because it is ineffective and short-term, and it doesn’t deal with the underlying problem that the banks continue to rely on the taxpayer.”

Amongst fears that the bonus tax which Cable berates will threaten the City of London’s financial clout, many are left wondering if a temporary loss of power and influence would be such a terrible thing. Perhaps it would force the industry to curb its over-indulgent ways.

Increasingly, we hear stories about people burning furniture in their home to keep warm, sharp rises in the popularity of food-banks, and nothing speaks more voluminously than the tragedy of the elderly Northamptonshire couple who froze to death in their own home. The divide between rich and poor, which has stretched itself beyond repair over the past ten years, seems to have been exposed further by the Baltic conditions this winter.

“The rich-poor divide must close. You can’t have a society which is at peace with itself when you have enormous disparities in income. The way in which I think we should deal with it is what the Lib Dems call the Fairer Tax Policy, the very well-off should pay more. You could introduce a greater fairness, reduced inequality, through the tax policy.”

Surely, though, tax can’t change our culture of greed? “You’re right in that fairness isn’t something that can be introduced from the top; it’s got to be embedded in social values. I think in the UK there is a yearning for more of a sense of a society; I think it’s probably stronger in Scotland than it is in London. It has got out of control. We have got unacceptable levels of inequality of income and wealth. I think there is a popular grassroots feeling that this is not acceptable.”

What parliament is lacking, though, is a uniting figure who offers a powerful alternative vision for the future of the country. “The government haven’t done that very well, I must say. I’ve been surprised going to provincial towns and seeing 500 to 1000 people turning up. We never used to have this level of public engagement, I think it’s a general desire to know and engage. It was very unfortunate that the expenses crisis erupted in the middle of the financial crisis. It considerably weakened the moral authority of politicians.”

Today, Cable has attended the Cities Outlook conference for 2010, held by the independent policy research unit, Centre for Cities. This year’s forecast indicates that, whilst some cities, such as Brighton and Milton Keynes are well-placed to see a strong upturn, other areas of the UK will face an uneven recovery.

It came as a surprise to Cable that the traditionally poorer cities of the North were the ones set to suffer again following the recession, especially considering that the banking crisis and property inflation mainly centred around the South East.

“It’s very difficult to turn these things around. I went back to Maryhill recently, the ward I represented [Cable was a Glasgow City councillor in the 1970s], and 35 to 37 years later, it hasn’t changed. The poverty is still very serious. But through grassroots initiatives, using the limited power that councils have to support small business, local housing initiatives, or in the case of Newcastle using their local reserves, it is possible to do things at a local level, which probably can’t completely change the story but can change matters on the ground.”

Cable looks back at his Maryhill and Partick door-knocking days fondly. He found residents extraordinarily friendly, “bearing in mind I was a sort of young Englishman with a slightly middle-class accent, in a fairly basic part of Glasgow. There was a bit of a language problem! People were usually very warm and very direct, I developed a real affection for the people there.”

The door knocking strategy doesn’t seem to be such a crucial part of election campaigning anymore. Cable puts this down to the simple matter of safety, and that the Partick and Maryhill doors he once rapped on are either a great deal less welcoming, or completely inaccessible to those who aren’t residents. Wary of the social alienation experienced by those out of touch with their local councillors or MP’s, Cable instead envisions the town-hall meetings adopted by Liberal Democrat leader, Nick Clegg as a way of bringing people together.

Cable cuts a serious figure, both in person and in his politics. He is much more capacious than you would expect from his appearances on television. He is most content in his comfort zone of economics and current affairs, waxing in the most lyrical way possible about shares and premiums. He does so in a manner which would leave even the least politically-inclined animal enthused.

Outside of this safety-net of figures and political jargon, Cable is a polite, if rather shy, gentleman, whose bloodshot eyes already show the strain of the pre-election grind. Just this week his party has had to place their pledge to scrap tuition fees on the backburner. A central tenet of the Liberal Democrat’s agenda, it has commonly been a student favourite.

Cable is adamant, however, that it is still a pledge to which the Liberal Democrats are committed.

“For reasons of realism it cannot be done overnight. It is still a popular and relevant policy for students. We haven’t abandoned it, but we must present it in a framework which is economically realistic.”

Cable says he never believed in the 50% target for young people to be attending university, and that the competition for places will inevitably become even more fierce. “There simply isn’t the money, and I’m not sure it’s desirable either. We’re getting a growing number of young unemployed graduates. And they’re saddled with debt”.

Recognising that university education isn’t always the best prospect for seventeen- or eighteen-year-olds, Cable believes tailor-made vocational training should be the subject of greater promotion and encouragement.

The futures of universities and students alike looks uncertain as 2010 has already produced blow after blow to that 50% dream espoused by Labour’s education commitments. University funding is set to be cut by £135m, and David Blanchflower, a leading economist, called for students from well-off families to pay more to attend university, up to as much as £30,000.

How the government believes it can achieve such a lofty target whilst taking an axe to the roots of higher education is a mystery. These uncertain prospects leave the future of higher education looking alarmingly bleak, even in the hands of the party who were so keen to nurture it back to health.

In the run-up to the election, the Liberal Democrats will have to try to turn the public perception of politicians back around if they hope to increase their number of seats. Their 2010 campaign is focusing on fairness, which will, they hope, prove to be a persuasive enough message to gain more support for the Party.

Hidden behind the airbrushed campaign posters and celebrity-saturated endorsements of modern politics, surely there is an idea powerful enough to engage with the public? Not just through policy, but in changing the minds of those around the country who feel disillusioned with the process of ticking a box in May.

The Liberal Democrats hope that their slogan, “We are the only party that believe in Fairness”, will help voters to see past the endless cut and spend debates of the two main parties. In a year which poses the serious possibility of a hung parliament, the Liberal Democrats will need to provide clear reasons as to why they are the alternative voice. And whichever direction the Party chooses to take, Vince Cable won’t be far behind. “Until May it will be long days campaigning to boost the Liberal Democrats; a great deal of hard work on the political campaign trail. What happens after May? That’s in the lap of the electorate.”

Photo courtesy of Dave Angell

Lucia Hodgson

Anyone fortunate enough to have avoided their local cinema on November 20 did so for one good reason: TwiHards. Easily identifiable by their inextinguishable teenage energy, black attire, and choice of slogan t-shirt – Team Edward or Bite Me are popular choices – they are the new wave of girl fandom.  For those who haven’t heard about the biggest teen book since the success of Harry Potter, Twilight (written by Stephenie Meyer) tells the story of Bella Swann, who moves to the small town of Forks, where she becomes inexplicably obsessed with quiet, pale, Edward Cullen. The only problem is that Edward is a vampire. The second installment, New Moon, sees Bella trying to cope after Edward and his family are forced to leave town following a blood-lust incident.

The Twilight saga isn’t the only fanged romance to get teenage girls in a fluster, as pop culture has seen an onslaught of vampire-themed films, books, and television shows. From Nosferatu through to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the vampire is no stranger to our screens. But unlike the sporadic peppering of un-dead cultural icons, Twilight has inspired an unstoppable production line of vampire products. In the literature trade, PJ Cast’s House of Night series and LJ Smith’s Vampire Diaries have profited most from the Twilight comparisons, both following a similar angst teen-meets-vampire dilemma. Smith’s volumes have been serialised on the small screen, just like the more adult adaptation of Charlaine Harris’ Southern Vampire Mysteries, now better known as the True Blood series. Anna Paquin plays the charming Sookie Stackhouse, who waitresses in  small-town Louisiana, where vampires roam free to be gawped at and feared. Six Feet Under wonder-writer Alan Ball has brought sexiness and sleaze to the genre and has won numerous accolades. Popular teen author Darren Shan hasn’t escaped the adaptation race, as his film The Vampire Diaries has attracted Salma Hayek and Willem Defoe to the project. But it was the Swedish film Let the Right One In which surprised critics and pundits alike, with a tense and tender vampire romance between two young outcasts. Set in a dingy block of flats, Eli has just moved in next door to Oskar. Oskar is an introverted, lonely boy who is being picked on by the kids at school. He warms to Eli, who gives him courage to stand up for himself. When he slowly comes to understand the reason for her bizarre behaviour, he doesn’t let her taste for blood deter his affection for her, and together they try to survive their complicated lives. Let the Right One In is an eloquent, dream-like coming of age horror which demonstrates just what the vampire genre can achieve.

Twilight’s cultural value, on the other hand, has always been debated. There isn’t much doubt that Twilight’s gothic romance fails to match the long-lived praise of Wuthering Heights. That isn’t without trying, as Bronte’s classic has been re-released in the style of the Twilight saga books (with the imprint “Bella and Edward’s favourite book” on the cover). Twilight’s boy-band style adoration is impossible to ignore. Film hasn’t seen a female craze like this for a long time, if ever. Fans have even admitted to believing that vampires exist, and would happily give their lives for one. The Twilight romance is a fantasy – that such an unimaginably exotic creature could live amongst us in our banal lives, whether it is Edward or Jacob. Each man who longs for you is incredibly toned and beautiful, not to mention emotionally in tune to a woman’s needs.

The aesthetic merits of Robert Pattinson are not the only point of discussion. There are fascinating propagandist readings of the film. Bloggers and fans recognise writer Stephenie Meyer’s strict Mormon values as a metaphor in the film; Cullen’s abstention from human blood as abstaining from the temptations of pre-marital sex. Was this teen Twilight infatuation really Meyer’s intention? Given the conservative, de-sexualised Mormon attitude towards relationships, Meyer has spawned vampire-hungry teens obsessed with the unobtainable inspiration of Bella and Edward’s eternal lust. Surely such coveting is disapproved of, but conversely, Meyer’s narrative has encouraged it. You can now purchase the book Twilight and Philosophy: Vampires, Vegetarians, and the Pursuit of Immortality as part of Blackwell’s popular culture series.

It is incredible that a product as frivolous as Twilight has triggered moral philosophical questions more suited to a reading of Crime and Punishment. Is Twilight getting carried away with itself? It seems much more likely that the millions who have enjoyed the teen text have done so on a less challenging level.

But who am I to judge? Meyer really could be up there with the popular science greats, and Twilight the new Mormon gospel; we just don’t realise it yet. Whether that is the case, there is no doubting that Meyer has sparked life back into the un-dead cultural icon.

Lucia Hodgson

I am a firm believer in the redemptive qualities of alcohol. Any minor failure, casual provocation, or slight humiliation is enough to convince me that what I need is a long, slow soak in an ocean of booze. Only once my blood stream is comprehensively saturated, only once the world is spinning at light-speed on its axis, can I begin to relax again and let all my anxieties drift gently off into the abyss. At moments like that it truly becomes clear that in this liquid intoxicant, I have made a friend for life.

But the Scottish Government is trying to call time on my relationship with the bottle; it’s trying to drive a wedge between us. It has announced plans to put an end to the unbridled joy of an indulgent liquor-fuelled night. The Scottish Government says that there are too many mouth-watering incentives on offer to tempt me into drinking. I say: what else is there to do? Drinking has always been a part of Scottish culture; for centuries it has gifted vitality to this cold, dark corner of northern Europe.

Tory MSP Murdo Fraser addressed the booze question in the Scottish Parliament at the beginning of November. He called excessive alcohol consumption a “scourge on Scottish society”. The Health Secretary Nicola Sturgeon — leader of the crusade against drinking — wants to punish the majority for the mistreatment of alcohol by the minority. The First Minister Alex Salmond is convinced that I should pay at least £4.50 for a bottle of wine. I would be on the streets if I could stand.

So, long gone will be the days of stacking up on vodka doubles during happy hour. Cheap, high strength favourites amongst heavy drinkers, such as white cider or supermarket own brands, will be banished to oblivion (that is, subject to a new per-unit pricing law).

But taxing the consumer is not going to change the incomparable pleasure of getting drunk. No authority is going to impose sobriety on me. Surely, it should be my choice to purchase alcohol after 10pm. Surely, I should be entitled to slowly corrode my liver, rot my gut, and ruin my looks. Granted, there is a good chance I will, at some stage, end up face down in A&E, but (and read this bit carefully) the cost of alcohol-related admissions doesn’t seem so unreasonable when we consider the amount ploughed into the economy by alcohol tax revenue. According to the Institute of Alcohol Studies, alcohol revenue in the UK brought in nearly £14 billion in 2004-05. The same body calculated NHS costs attributed to alcohol misuse in 2006-07 at £405 million. I’m sure there’s a handsome profit margin in there somewhere.

A huge amount of revenue will be lost every year if alcohol is made as costly as the new measures propose. Studies of alcohol-related illnesses and hospital admissions in Scotland rarely mention the lucrative remuneration of alcohol VAT sales.

Essentially, politicians are reluctant to admit that alcohol consumption is doing the government a favour. The truth is that during the worst recession in living memory, the more we drink — even better, the more we drink at an expensive price — the more the government benefits. The state faces a two-pronged dilemma. If they go ahead with their minimum-price plan and attempt to solve the ‘binge drinking problem’, they will be presented with a new black hole in the national finances.

Previous government campaigns to curb excessive alcohol consumption have been childish, patronising, and (surprisingly!) ineffective. Articles attacking binge drinking are often accompanied by stereotypical images, either of audacious women having a good time in clubs, or (as seen on the BBC website) an image of a teen in a Burberry cap drinking Buckfast. The clichés the media has adopted towards drinkers — that they are all abhorrent teenagers, ‘ladettes’ or working class — only further alienates us from the debate, especially when one considers that Britain’s middle classes are a famously gin-soaked bunch.

The Daily Mail may well stigmatise the enjoyment of drinking — categorising it as pastime likely to be frowned upon by anyone who can afford security tagged liquor brands — but I imagine more than a few of its most ardent readers will spend their afternoons alone with a crate of toxic, bargain-basement, Californian wine.

The state’s wild desire to restrain the alleged evils of binge drinking has led us to ignore a more disheartening aspect of cheap alcohol — the mass exodus from British pubs. The pub industry has faced a trading battle since the price of supermarket alcohol fell sharply. Minimum pricing will only exacerbate this problem, as the price of a pub pint rises even more. If we really don’t want to see traditional pubs going under then we need to use existing laws more effectively, or at least exempt pubs from the minimum pricing laws. There are already enough ways to commit an offence as a drunk person, and the government must realise that attempts to tackle binge drinking won’t be successful by piling new ineffective laws on top of old, underused, ones.

I can’t help but notice that all of this is being propagated by the bone-dry, humourless puritans that populate our parliament. I can’t help but notice that all this strongly echoes Scotland’s ultra-conservative Calvinist past. I note that John Knox’s hatred of fun would make any self-respecting member of the Taliban blush; that Scotland’s medieval Protestant foot-soldiers, were they alive today, would make Mullah Omar look like Alan Carr. Our MSP’s want to force us to salvation, and they’re not going to ask twice. Why can’t we all just admit that there will always be, no matter how many disincentives you introduce, people who wish to consume large amounts of alcohol (and I will always be one of them, no matter how many interventions my parents stage).

I will say this clearly: more expensive drinks certainly won’t stop me from knocking back my fourth or my fifth or my sixth (nothing will stop me downing my seventh). All my social awkwardness just drains from my body after a gin and tonic, a fifth of scotch and water eradicates my shyness, a few white Russians constitute my antidote to neuroticism.

Alcohol makes everything better, no matter how hard my head bangs in the morning, and I deny the government any right to take that feeling away from me. Binge drinking keeps our pubs in business and my self-confidence at a momentary high. I raise my glass to it.

Lucia Hodgson

To kill Guy Pierce and Ralph Fiennes within fifteen minutes of them appearing on screen is a brave move. But then, Kathryn Bigelow has always been a brave lady. Her back catalogue of masculine blockbusters is impressive, including Near Dark, Point Break, and Strange Days. So it came as no surprise when it was announced that Bigelow was to add her name to the long list of big name directors who have tackled the Middle East question with The Hurt Locker. The post-2005 fixation with the War on Terror has thrown up dire attempts from even the most revered film makers and stars. The Hurt Locker, however, is one of the few which casts a challenging eye over the persistently complex issue of Iraq.

Huge budgets, great explosions, and heart-throb regulars of Heat magazine are normally a perfect concoction for a hit blockbuster. But within the context of the Iraq conflict these traits feel misplaced. Following the global appeal and critical praise of 2005’s Syriana, starring George Clooney and directed by Stephen Gaghan, studios jumped on the politically charged band wagon. But the metaphorical tapestry which Gaghan so expertly wove was lost in the appeal for audience figures and wide profit margins. Hoping to capture the same critical acclaim as their predecessor, studios exposed audiences to such lazy genre reworkings as Stop-Loss, Rendition, Redacted, and The Lucky Ones, not forgetting the most misjudged of them all, Lions for Lambs, where not even the economic prowess of Meryl Streep could save the film from its dreary and blameful interpretation of war.

Stop-Loss plays out like a Varsity Blues remake for the enlisted generation. The issue of being sent back to Iraq (or stop-lossed) takes second place to the predictable trials and tribulations of a teen from the mid-west. Rendition follows the usual plot twists of any thriller. The Lucky Ones is possibly the most absurd road/buddy movie ever committed to film, as a trio of Iraq veterans return home and embark on a journey so full of clumsy mishaps and melodrama that you wonder how they ever made it to the desert in the first place. What is most shocking about these pictures is their irreverent attitude to both the troops and civilians of their respective countries. In Redacted, De Palma’s new media style take on the conflict, the American troops are depicted as working class ignorant racists; the Iraqi civilians are nothing but helpless; and the terrorists are simply barbaric. The veterans in The Lucky Ones are portrayed as dim-witted, out-of-luck outcasts of American life.

One film which did buck the trend was Paul Haggis’ In the Valley of Elah. The director of Crash casts aside the theatrics of his peers and opts for a sobering account of a soldier’s murder after returning home from Iraq. The empty American landscape frames the brutal crime, and the crumpled face of Tommy Lee Jones conveys the subtle anti-war message more effectively than any of the guilt-inducing, action packed war-fests.

The Hurt Locker is certainly one of the more mature and absorbent commentaries on the War on Terror. We are dropped into the desert side by side with the bomb disposal unit. There is very little exposition of who the soldiers are, what they think of the war, whether they are content to be fighting it, or even their first names. If we know little about the soldiers, we know even less about the Iraqi people, who are often revealed to us as simply a pair of eyes, sandals or clothing. We are following Staff Sergeant. James, Sgt. Sanborn and Spc. Eldridge as they are called to a number of suspicious looking red wires or abandoned cars.

This is an exercise in tense film-making, from the sweltering bomb proof jacket, the deathly silence, to the ever present sinister eyes around corners and spying through windows. The film does not completely avoid emotion, with cracks in the unit forming the closer they get to their last day of duty. We discover SSgt. James has a baby, and after a close call with death on his last day, Sgt. Sanborn realises his desire to have a little boy to look after at home. Kathryn Bigelow’s microcosmic study of this small unit drives home the atrocities witnessed by young men, without overly politicising it or telling us what to think. The end shot of SSgt. James looking overwhelmed by the choice of cereal brands whilst shopping in a huge supermarket has an outstanding anti-American sentiment. In two hours, Bigelow teaches us more about a soldier’s experience and their nightmare experiences of war, in a way we can no longer gauge from the clinical death toll figures on the nightly news.

The Hurt Locker is a hard-hitting analysis of the soldiers’ everyday lives. It is intelligent and humane without failing to thrill and represent their experiences in a realistic and sophisticated manner.

Lucia Hodgson

For most, hailing from a “heroin-ridden” council estate with a heavy Geordie drawl won’t give you the best start in life. Throw an assault charge in further down the line, and you can more or less kiss goodbye any dreams of fame. But, at just 26 years of age, Cheryl Cole has upset the odds and become the nation’s surprise sweetheart.

She is the highlight of millions of viewers’ Saturday nights; her dimpled cheeks light up our screens as she bestows her benevolent judgement on dozens of expectant hopefuls. Of course, Cheryl was herself found on a reality show, and now — six years later — she sits behind the panel rather than performs in front of it. How one woman has managed to become so adored so quickly is truly baffling. But does it suggest a darker side to her character?

Girls Aloud have taken a backseat in Cheryl’s life, allowing for new ventures: becoming the face of L’Oreal, a solo number one single, and of course ITV’s flagship tack-fest, The X-Factor. Behind the judging panel, she appears glowingly to the nation, full of praise for the hapless contestants; breaking the bad news to the ones she dislikes with sugar-coated clichés.

In fact, Cole is rarely caught on camera without a carefully orchestrated tear or gushing sympathy for the banal sob stories of her equally moist-eyed underlings. Her masterfully constructed public image has even helped her slide into The Guardian’s Media Top 100 list for 2009, sandwiched between political blogger Guido Fawkes and the editor of the Mail on Sunday, Peter Wright. Wonders never cease.

Tabloids delight in noting her transformation from, as the Daily Mail put it, “working class convict to A-List celebrity”. The Times Online referred to her as the “chav princess supreme.” These days however, we’re reminded each week by the glossies how girls across the country can, too, look like Cheryl Cole — even without the advantages of her continent-sized bank balance or a petite size 6-8 frame!

The Daily Mail, ever eager to scrutinize women’s appearances, recently modelled one of Cheryl’s thigh skimming dresses on someone they described, bizarrely, as a “mere mortal”. (What? So only the un-famous age, disease and die?) The results were apparently disastrous, with the so-called ordinary girl managing only to make the garment look “frumpy and twee.” Ordinary? Is that not exactly the reason we’re supposed to love Cheryl?

Unfortunately for Cheryl, being so eye-wateringly gorgeous is demanding enough without her plethora of other professional commitments. “From the moment I step out my front door”, she says, “even if it’s just to go to the supermarket, I’m working. So looking good and not being caught out can be very consuming.” Hopefully, the £500,000 L’Oreal deal will make her life just that little bit easier.

Her “chav” image hit its peak in 2003, when Cole — then Tweedy — was found guilty of assaulting a toilet attendant, though she was cleared of the charge of racial aggravation. The attack has been largely glossed over as a blip on her otherwise flawless track record. Most third-rate celebrities would be sunk in an instant for such an unforgivable indiscretion, but not our Cheryl.

The first real spike of interest in Cole — the event that suggested she could be more than just your run-of-the-mill Pop Stars success — was provoked by husband Ashley’s affair (recently named fourth in a list of “life’s most confusing things”). With scientific precision, Cheryl and her publicity team milked public sympathy for all it was worth.

There was a slow drip-feed of stories in the celebrity press — fuelled by Cole’s astute PR team — that described how Cheryl led Ashley on a journey to redemption and worked selflessly to salvage their romance. The outcry of public compassion was unprecedented; women came to admire (revere?) Cole and men were left pondering why on earth you’d trade a woman like her for anyone else.

One thing Cheryl never does is pass up an opportunity to remind us of her tough upbringing on an impoverished estate on the outskirts of Newcastle (she has claimed that class A drugs could have been an easy option for her). The truth is, though, that Cole’s origins are a little less humble than she would have us believe. Even as a toddler she had designs on celebrity. As soon as she had learned how to walk, she entered beauty and dance contests that, of course, she comfortably won, and in her teens she attended an exclusive ballet school in London. During the Pop Stars audition process, she was filmed saying she always knew she would be famous. Clearly, hers isn’t quite the rags to riches story she has worked so tirelessly to project, and yet, we the Great British Public, have lapped it up.

Combined, Tweedy and Cole are millionaires many times over. The Cheryl Cole brand reaches far and wide into popular culture, and seems to just keep on growing. But behind the twinkly eyes and ice-white teeth there may lie a less charming character. The history of violence, the juvenile “chick with a dick” Lily Allen insults, and the pathological desire to be the apple of the public’s eye, should perhaps make us all think twice about our current idolatry of the starlet.

But, astonishingly, Cole has managed to persuade arch-cynics like Julie Burchill that she is a “national treasure,” and even David Cameron — the likely next Prime Minister of the United Kingdom — claims she is his favourite member of Girls Aloud (why does he have to have one at all?)

In the Daily Telegraph, Becky Pugh’s obsequiously complimentary article labelled Cheryl “the victim, rather than the perpetrator, in what little tabloid scandal has surrounded her glossy new persona …Cheryl remains poised, down to earth and delightful — at least in our perception, which is all that counts.”

So, according to Pugh, it doesn’t matter if Cole is presenting an honest face to the public or not; we should love her because she can maintain her lovely smile and good posture in a moment of crisis. Some people might think that such steely reserve was, well, unnatural…

When asked who would qualify as a feminist icon today Germaine Greer sagely replied, “Not Cheryl Cole, there’s not enough of her, she’s too thin.” Greer’s reasoning may be contentious, but her sentiment is right. Cole’s public displays of sweetness and purity, forgiveness and affection, have somehow tricked us all into thinking of her as the angelic embodiment of womanhood.

Perhaps this explains why she is becoming ever more ubiquitous. The woman is plastered on the front of a different magazine every week and appears on television more frequently by the day. The rise of Cheryl seems unstoppable, but what is truly worrying is that no-one in Britain, it seems, has any desire to try to put a stop to it.