I can't believe how much venom is being directed at Prince Harry over a stupid choice of costume. Of course he was wrong to wear it, but let's just think for a moment. The thing that horrified me most about the Holocaust, apart from the unforgivable loss of life and the deliberate and meaningless cruelty that went along with it, was that a Christian country, steeped in culture and home to some of the world's greatest musicians and writers, could, in just a few years, become a cesspit of evil. If that could happen once it could happen again, so as well as honouring the memory of the victims we should remember so that it can never, ever happen again. But for a long time now we have colluded in seeing the Nazis as a joke. Be honest, didn't you laugh at Basil Fawlty's goosestep? Did you watch 'Allo 'Allo!, where the Nazis were pictured as vulnerable idiots? Are you hoping to see The Producers, currently wowing the West End? Plenty of Nazi uniforms there among the laughter. And Harry's father's visit with Camilla Parker Bowles excited not a single comment. How many comic strips have portrayed the Nazis as oafs, who, far from exterminating millions, never, ever win? One or two pop stars have even sported a swastika as an item of jewellery. Admittedly, handling the aftermath of horror is not easy. My children eventually cured me of my anti-German attitude, but it took years. Their point was that they should not be held responsible for anything that happened before they were born, so how could I be antagonistic to the comparable generation in Germany. Of course they were right. We had to draw a line and learn to co-exist with Germany and Japan, even if only for economic reasons. "Don't mention the war" is more than a comic line in Fawlty Towers. Successive British Prime Ministers have espoused it as they stood side by side with German Chancellors. So is it any wonder that, in a recent survey of 2,000 people, it was discovered that one in 10 do not believe Hitler was a real person. 45pc had never heard of Auschwitz, where over a million were murdered, and among those under 35 the percentage rose to 60pc. So much for the job we have done to commemorate the dead. Harry's generation has a vague idea of what happened in that war we don't speak about, but it can not be compared to the searing memories of the generations who suffered through it. We have allowed Nazi storm troopers to become "baddies" instead of the fiends they were, and I haven't heard a single howl of protest until now. So before we take a sledgehammer to the nut of a young man's lapse perhaps we should look at the world he has grown up in, and the confused standards it has offered. * Denise Robertson cannot enter into any personal correspondence. ********** Couldn't make it up It's almost six months since I was approached about entering the Celebrity Big Brother house. They promised it was going to have a new dimension this time. What they didn't say was that the new dimension would be pale imitations of the sadistic trials in I'm a Celebrity...Get me Out of Here. The prospect of making money for a charity was a draw, but the family's truly anguished faces were quite enough to put me off. "Now you've definitely gone mad," was the general consensus, delivered in world-weary tones. So instead of wading through entrails, or whatever it was, I watched Brigitte Nielsen warming a toilet seat for someone else and thanked God it wasn't me. Watching Germaine Greer trying to intellectualise the whole thing was diverting, but when John McCririck's underpants emerged and poor bewildered Jackie Stallone tottered in I suddenly realised that the whole thing was a spoof which should be transferred to the stage at once. Reality TV? You couldn't make it up. ********** Fines don't hit rich Oh dear, they're back to fining people according to their means and if it's as big a foul-up as last time the mind boggles. Who will pay for administering this scheme when most people will say their disposable income is zilch? If the courts are as good at tracking down real income as the Child Support Agency has been we might as well give up before we start. I approve of the idea in principle. Fining a millionaire £25 for anti-social behaviour is a waste of time, but so is fining him or her £1,000. That's small change to the truly rich. If you want to hit the wealthy where it hurts take their leisure away. Instead of a nice round of golf make them attend a lecture on citizenship, the more boring the better. I guarantee you, hitting their handicap would have more effect than hitting their capacious pockets. ********** So what price self-defence? Last week Trevor McDonald chaired a television debate on householders' rights when their property is invaded by burglars. There was a police representative - an assistant chief constable. "Do not fear," he said in soothing tones. "You can defend yourself and your property and walk away unscathed." When presented with reconstructions he was positive every time. Yes, you could shoot, stab, strike with a golf club - if you felt in fear of your life there were no limits. One reconstruction showed a man striking down a burglar with a golf club as he fled along the street, but even that was okay according to the assistant chief constable, who called it making a citizen's arrest. And he made great play of the fact that an informal survey revealed hardly anyone had been prosecuted for striking back at intruders. Only 11 cases in heaven knows how long. The following day a newspaper, having done only an hour's research, produced seven more cases, including that of Brett Osborn, a 23-year-old now serving five years for manslaughter after stabbing a drug addict who forced his way into a house where he watched TV with a pregnant woman. Last Friday mother of four Jessica Allinson, a gamekeeper, sobbed as she was sentenced to prison. Her assistant, Alexander Szyndel, was also jailed. For years she had begged police to stop the all-night raves being held in the Surrey woodland for which she was responsible. The noise could be heard seven miles away and after each event she had to clear up broken bottles, used condoms and rubbish. But the real damage was to the nesting birds and animals on her patch. As a passionate lover of wildlife she bitterly resented this. The police never came to help, pleading insufficient manpower, so on that last night she took the law into her own hands, blasting not the ravers but their loudspeakers with a shotgun for which she had a permit. Jessica and Alex were then confronted by a snarling mob who tried to prevent them getting back to their Land Rover. Terrified, they fired their guns into the air. No raver was hurt but within hours Jessica and Alex were both arrested. No action was taken against the ravers, in spite of numerous complaints from people living around the area. The judge said: "Both defendants were insulted and sworn at by ravers whose attitude was that they couldn't care less what damage they did or whose sleep they interrupted." He called Jessica a woman of impeccable character devoted to the preservation of the woodland and highlighted the lack of response by the police, but that didn't stop him sentencing her and Alex to three months in jail. In addition they have lost their jobs. No raver has been charged with anything. I wonder what the oh so reassuring police spokesman on Tonight with Trevor McDonald would make of that little lot. ********** Foolish to toast change in law The panelists of Radio Four's Any Questions were largely in favour of relaxing the licensing hours. Ye Gods, they were pompous. They like a drink, they behave impeccably, therefore they should be entitled to have one whenever they want. And Robin Cook boasted how well it had worked in Scotland. No rows, no punch ups, all too civilised for words. England should catch up, he said. He neglected to mention that the number of people needing treatment for alcohol-related illness, both mental and physical, has risen in the aftermath of the relaxation. I'm not so much worried about violence on the streets. It's the impact on families that worries me. Richard Caborn made much of the fact that few pubs would apply for 24-hour licences. My fear is that they will form agreements - you open for the first 12 hours, we'll take the second. So drinkers will leave one pub and stagger to another. God forbid that we see a return to that Victorian image of a child standing outside the pub begging daddy - or nowadays mummy - to come home. ********** Prize phone voices were identical Apparently I've won a major prize in a draw. I know this because a nice man has telephoned to tell me so. So far he's rung three times. The first time he was Peter. The second time David. The last time Adam, but he's always the prize allocation manager for a draw I entered last year but forgot about. Strangely, the voices are identical. Adam says they've been trying to contact me for weeks now. That could be because I've put the phone down each time I realised it was a recorded message. Funnily enough he can't tell me which mega gift I've won, but if I ring their premium line I'll find out. If only they'd ring me in person and have a conversation I could tell them that my name's Tilly, not Silly. But alas, a recording is all I get so the two first class flights to New York, the BMW coupe or the £5,000 in cash will just have to go to some other mug. | 
