It’s far better to be right than to be correct.Correct comes from the past participle of the Latin corrigere, to put straight. “The last speaker’s analysis is correct,” someone would say, and the day would be carried.Or perhaps it was the work of an even older leader writer who knew about Low’s Colonel Blimp and his “Gad sir, Chamberlain is right!”, and who felt that “right” was more the Telegraph’s sort of word.But one thing is certain, as Telegraph leader writers used to say as they tried to sum up an argument. Something kind of fresh about it.”Or perhaps it was an older writer who remembered the dawn of civilisation, otherwise known as the student revolution of 1967-72, when the word correct was constantly on the lips of the politically aware.In those days debates were won, not by the speakers who best furthered the student cause, but by those whose political posture earned most approval from right-thinking people. You couldn’t help feeling sorry for John Prescott as he faced the lions of the TUC at Blackpool last week. The poor old seadog, having become used to being told that he was too left-wing for New Labour, was now being called too right-wing for the unions, and failed to get an ovation.

What should we make of it? I turned to the Sun for guidance. “John Prescott is correct to warn the TUC,” said its leader, “that there’s a great big world out there.”
Good point; but why did the Sun say he was “correct”? Why didn’t it just say he was right? One or two reasons come to mind.Perhaps the Sun had a new leader writer, who wanted to bring a touch of variety into the paper’s leader column so that Rupert himself might see it and say: “Who wrote that leader? I like his style. Everything the dancers lay their hands upon is transformed into an instrument of percussion: brooms, rocks, rubbish bins, hammers, pots, mugs and plates are all used to devastating effect. In the Coronation Park is the Amphitheatre, where the Mlilwane Surprise Band perform a rousing rendition of “Chicken Rolling in the Oven”, a quaint love song with the chorus: “I remember the first time you kissed me / nice nice like a chicken rolling in the oven / your body wriggled like a snake / your taste is like a dumpling”.- Mail and Guardian (Johannesburg). Theatre for Africa appear in the main theatre, and their show is nothing less than astounding.

The country turns 30 this weekend, and the aptly named Siyavuka (“we are awakening”) seems essential to provide a lyrical counterpoint to the prosaic casino-culture which is more closely associated with Swaziland’s identity. However Siyavuka convincingly demonstrated that there are many more alluring reasons than jackpots and birdies to visit the kingdom. Izzard, amid all the hyperbolic blurbing from American critics (“Britain’s special gift to stand-up!”), is trying to keep his head below the clouds. “American audiences are coming and [saying], ‘I don’t know what the [expletive] it’s about, but he’s English so it must be culture’ You know, I get an extra throw-in, being British … People say there are different senses of humor, which I don’t believe is true at all. There are subtle differences, but [in England] we don’t watch The Simpsons and say, ‘My God, this is so American, how on earth could it be funny?’ As long as you get the reference points, it’s comedy.” – Los Angeles TimesIT REALLY was high time that Swaziland celebrated itself with a national arts festival (“Siyavuka”, the country’s first national arts festival).