GULF WAR 2: ALL DONE IN YOUR NAME..; BRIAN READE on the teatime horror that was beamed into our front rooms.
Byline: BRIAN READEIT was probably the most terrifying piece of teatime television ever beamed into your living-room.
An eye-popping, heart-thumping vision of how it would look outside your window if a madman ever decides it is time for Armageddon. Served up for your instant delectation and future nightmares thanks to the wonders of modern technology and the lunacy of Bush and Blair.
This was Reality TV at its most horrific extreme. Virtual warfare made teatime entertainment. A moral crusade flagged up by the Washington Hawks as Operation Shock and Awe, which was too shocking for words to describe and more awful than pictures could ever show.
It was a cataclysmic assault not only on one of the world's biggest and oldest cities but also on the senses of every living person from North Carolina to North Korea. It said, in the repulsive way only the biggest of bullies can say when might is on their side, don't mess with me. Any of you. Or this is what you'll get.
And the jaw-dropping smack in the face will have left everyone who saw it, and that is everyone on earth with access to a TV, sick to the pit of their stomach.
As the red plumes covered the screen and the shock-waves pummelled the speakers, all you could do was try to imagine what the citizens of Baghdad were thinking as this fury was unleashed illegally in YOUR name.
It dragged the mind back to how the number one gangster behind the carnage, George Bush, had the day before shouted "I feel good" as he prepared to tell US viewers the attacks had started.
Closer to home, you wondered how every member of the Labour Cabinet, and every careerist Labour MP who backed this unethical bombardment, was feeling.
Hopefully, as the mushroom plumes rose over Baghdad, they saw their life as socialists flash before them. A life lost forever. And I hope the realisation that they had authorised this outrage made them feel as repulsed with themselves as most of the rest of us do.
It reminded the watching world of the last time we had one of those "where were you when..." moments. Ironically that was September 11 2001. And even though we had been expecting this barrage, when it came, the eyes and ears could barely comprehend it.
BACK then it was a matinee disaster movie, perfectly framed under a cobalt blue sky. Only back then one thing was different. Uncle Sam didn't come out on top.
Last night was his attempt to do so. It was pay-back time for that abominable day in New York. His strike back at the baddies. Or rather the only people he can frame as baddies. And the most frightening aspect of this horror movie was that like 9/11 it was set against its own perfectly natural backdrop. A jet black sky.
And on that backdrop you could etch the next piece of retaliation in what will surely be a downward descent. The Muslims' revenge. As the crimson red clouds spread across the dark canvas, you could see the blood of future martyrs. Next time the skies could be on fire over London or Liverpool.
This war has seen television take on a whole new meaning. The images beamed into our front rooms are the most revelatory ever. The gruesome horror of war is available on ten different cable channels. A continuous flow of blood and valour, interrupted only by the occasional word from their sponsors.
Up until last night's bombardment that theory wasn't holding up. US Marines fought a bloody battle at Umm Qasr but all we saw were edited highlights which showed the raising of the Stars And Stripes. What the director would call The Iwo Jima cut. Orgasm time for all the rednecks back home who pay their taxes to see Old Glory raised on foreign soil.
We weren't seeing the brutality involved in bombing a people into submission. Until this unforgettable glimpse of the gut-churning reality of war. And it was done in your name, by your Labour government.
I just hope last night the Jack Straws and John Prescotts slept half-as badly as the civilians of Baghdad. But somehow I doubt it.
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