James Dyson, our greatest living Englishman, sounded a warning against Chinese spies in British universities this week that rang alarm bells in my ears of a new Cold War. Suddenly I feel, as our fathers must have felt, that they are among us: nefarious interlopers with hidden recording devices, false names and shadowy overlords, here to bleed us of our secrets and retreat silently to their unsmiling, demagogue masters.
Personally, I do not come much into contact with Chinese students, so I have little to fear in terms of my doings here being relayed to Beijing. There is one living in a flat up the road who stops to admire my rather dazzling wisteria in early April each year, and we exchange pleasantries. But she is unlikely — in her midnight telegraphs home — to be taking much from me in terms of secrets beyond “south-facing wall, prune ruthlessly, watch for crown gall” (although now that I write them, those instructions suddenly look like a coded strategy for regime change).
With 60,000 Chinese students now studying in Britain (a chilling statistic when you consider that the number of British students now studying in Britain is probably zero), Sir James warned that many are bogus, enrolled purely to swipe our technological advancements, and even plant computer bugs on campus so that the theft can continue after they have returned to China.
“They go back home taking that science and technology knowledge with them and then they start competing with us,” he said, adding that the subjects most at risk were electronic engineering and computer sciences.
Now, hair-shirted, Guardian- reading, vegan whoopsies up and down the land will sniff xenophobia here, I am sure. Some sort of ethnic distrust of the “yellow peril”. But they would be wrong. That has nothing to do with it.
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Having been Dyson’s official biographer many years ago, I know that there is no more liberal-minded, progressive or fair billionaire tycoon industrialist around. His main ambition in public life is to rekindle the creative, technical and industrial spirit that Britain had in the days of Isambard Kingdom Brunel. And having worked ridiculously hard to protect the patents on his own inventions (from the Japanese, Americans and British — not the Chinese) rather than see his work ripped off to further engorge bloated multinationals, he does not want that to happen on a national level and finish off what little hope there is of Britain clawing its way back to relevance as a technological force.
But as we cannot simply ban all Chinese from coming here to study without looking terribly racist, I have a more cunning solution to stop them learning anything useful: make them do arts degrees.
Let the Chinese come to our universities, by all means. Let them fill the lecture halls and swarm in the corridors. But no engineering, no physics, no computing. Only philosophy, French and history of art. Or, better still, degrees in media, marketing and sports psychology. That way we can be sure that after three years on campus in Britain they will go back to China knowing absolutely nothing at all.
• Here is Ed Miliband on his impending wedding: “At the end of the day we’re in our forties and we’ve got two kids . . .” And now here is Justine Thornton on her impending wedding to Ed Miliband: “At the end of the day I am marrying him because of who he is . . .”
Now, I am delighted for the happy couple, of course. But at the end of the day, who the hell is in charge of their media coaching, Harry Redknapp?
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• David Cameron came under fire this week for his style of running. Not his style of running the country. Just his running. According to an Olympic trainer called Bob Pritchard, of the Somax Performance Institute in California, the Prime Minister’s typical stride width of 50 degrees is dismally low. Even Samantha, with her 65-degree stride, is better than him. “David Cameron is covering 40 per cent less ground than the average, slow marathon runner,” said this worthless Californian twonk.
And then some glorified PE teacher from this country weighed in too. “The key thing when anyone is running is to stay relaxed,” said John Brewer, Professor of Sport at the University of Bedfordshire (what an Einstein he must be). “And the Prime Minister looks tense.”
Well, that might partly be that the film that Professor Brewer was looking at was of the Prime Minister running with soldiers in Afghanistan. Usain Bolt would have been tense, humping along with a load of jarheads in the desert in front of television cameras in the most dangerous country in the history of the Universe. Even some tinpot crapademic whose education runs to a couple of A levels in stretching and jumping and a degree in the shot put could have seen that.
“His head is looking more upwards and his neck and shoulders are tensed, so he looks more rigid than Mrs Cameron,” said Professor Brewer.
Wait a minute: short strides, head held up, neck tense, rigid ... Of course. The thing these two are missing is that what Mr Cameron has is an Eton run. All Etonians run like that. And to an extent all public school boys. It comes of going to a massive school where you’re always miles away from the next lesson and having to run there in morning dress, with leather-soled shoes. With long strides you’d slip over, so you have no option but to mince at top speed. In a wing collar your head is perforce held high. And then you have to fold one arm across your chest both to hold on to your tatty file pad and textbooks (brief cases are sooooo lame) and to keep your jacket from flapping open and your fountain pens and wallet falling out.
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It’s the Triumph of Posh again, you see. Nothing says power in this country quite like the gait of a constipated penguin dashing for a bus.
• I finally grasped what a terrible massive great food ponce I have become over the years when I caught sight of a tabloid strap line in my local newsagent this week that said “Why eating white bread can sap your sex drive”, and thought to myself: gosh, do they still sell white bread?
• Harry Coover, the American chemist who invented Super Glue, died last Sunday at the age of 94. He was a hero in his native country, winning the National Medal of Technology and Innovation in 2010, and being inducted into the Inventors’ Hall of Fame in 2004. It makes you wonder: how famous would he have been if he had invented a glue that doesn’t just weld your fingers together but then the thing you were trying to fix falls to bits anyway?
• I see Prince William has decided not to wear a wedding ring. That’s so cunning. Because what with the hush-hush little private wedding, it means that when he’s out on the pull in Boujis the girls won’t know he’s married.