ritain entertained quite a flap in legislative quarters last week, as Prime Minister Tony Blair met resistance in the passage of his Prevention of Terrorism Bill that would suspend the right to a fair trial. However, the law did successfully pass both Houses, effectively working against 800 years of British legal tradition established in the Magna Carta.

"Thank you," said the Prime Minster, rather politely tipping his hat to the legislative body. "You have aided the efforts against terrorism. The more people we have locked up, the fewer terrorists we will have on the street." Blair then ended the 30-hour legislative session by courteously shaking hands with everyone in the hall.

The legal match came as P.M. Blair sought approval of the new anti-terrorism bill to replace laws established after 11 September, 2001, hastily pushed through the legislative process in an effort to adapt to the new terror-mad world. Those laws would have expired soon, forcing the Prime Minister to pursue a new bill. Even Blair's own Labor party showed some resistance to details of the legislation, but through a series of concessions, Blair reached approval of the bill with the House of Commons, only to be surprised by the House of Lords, who customarily concede to the will of the Commons. Further debate over the bill continued for a record-matching 30-hour battle, until Blair made concessions to Conservative party leader Michael Howard and met a consensus.

Among the harshest responses to suspected criminals is the return of the medieval dungeon for long-term housing of those awaiting trial. The bill would call for £250 million in dungeon construction, surely good news for the freemasons. The P.M. admitted the incarceration of suspects in medieval-era dungeons would cost more, not less, but would "certainly put the fear of England into them."

The contests over England's tradition of due process to the accused mirrors the turmoil President Bush has surfed through in the United States as his own post-9/11 laws draw criticism from liberals, a dying breed in America. However, as P.M. Blair faces a greater opposition to the occupation of Iraq in his own country, Conservative leaders are seeking a weakness to exploit in this election year, and the law could come back to haunt the P.M. later. Some speculation exists Blair's motivation for following Bush's lead, even to his political doom, has been the president's overbearing personality is too strong for kind, mannered Blair to reject, with his cultured background. Members of the Labor party have even tried plying Blair with beer in hopes of him calling the U.S. president at 4 a.m. in Washington and telling him to go fuck himself… no luck as yet.

Ideally, according to proponents of the measure, suspected terrorists could be held for longer terms as the government built a case against them and exploited information gained from them to prevent potential terrorist attacks. The adapted law has been expanded to include Britons (the previous law applied only to foreign suspects); and of course, there's the dungeon, manacles and bread/water meals still being optional depending on local authorities.

Not everyone in the House of Lords opposed the new law, however, despite the upset caused by their attempt to block the bill's passage. In fact, the oldest of the legal bluebloods, Lord Philip Smudbury, applauded the bill's approval, in particular the return of the dungeon.

"Many of the younger legislators are not old enough to recall the firm discipline of the dungeon," said 97-year-old Smudbury, a member of the House of Lords since 1949. "In fact, I'm not old enough to remember it. But I had been locked up quite a bit in dungeon-like quarters by my emotionally-abusive parents. And I can say with conviction it did marvelous in shaping my respectability. You would do well to impose such an experience on many of your own on your side of the pond. That president of yours, for one. Such a rascal would certainly benefit from a ten- to fifteen-year stretch in the dungeon. No more of this mangling of the queen's English."

Lord Smudbury then graciously shared the afternoon with this Americanized reporter, a memorable period of time spent smoking home-grown pipeweed and poking the help.

ith the Michael Jackson sex scandal capturing the imagination of America, news organizations at last have gotten over the post-election blues with some impressive ratings. The more ingenious networks have even overcome a ban on cameras in the courtroom by using actors or drawings to interpret the images of the trial for viewers, opening a lucrative new area for television: Reenactment news directors.

As theater directors already know, just because Othello has been performed hundreds of times doesn’t mean you can’t distinguish yourself and leave your own stamp on Shakespeare. The E! Entertainment Network were first out of the gate, with their very straightforward, set-thin adaptation of the Michael Jackson daily drama, nabbing austere actors Jack Donner and Rigg Kennedy, as well as much-sought Jackson impersonator Edward Moss in the title role. But first isn’t finest, as many know.

Other Jackson trial interpretations sprung up immediately, the most lavish among them at NBC news, under the guidance of legendary Broadway stage director Fischer Todland. The production immediately went after George Clooney for the part of defense attorney Thomas Mesereau and Renee Zelleweger as Michael Jackson, but found the actors too busy for the project. The roles were more quickly cast with Billy Baldwin and Fran Drescher, who weren’t doing much. The cost has already exceeded $12 million, but the network says no expense can be spared when going for a hell of a lot more money in advertising revenue.

Literal interpretations are not the only ones to make their debuts in the weeks of the trial. Among the more daring is Bravo’s rendition of the trial, filled with sharp zooms, color-drenched scenes, and elaborate dialogue based loosely on the actual trial transcripts. While it may not have the journalistic integrity of E!’s coverage, it’s received rave reviews from many television critics for its cutting-edge language and daring employment of nudity.

Unsurprisingly, VH-1 has found success by reenacting the trial as a musical, with songs featuring lyrics by Paul Simon and music by Philip Glass. Much of the production is overstated and purposelessly bizarre, but TV Guide praised Pink’s “heartbreaking� portrayal of Jackson, particularly for the song “(Why Do You Need) Photos of My Penis.�

One of the most abstract interpretations of the trial is BET’s all-black reenactment, with half-insane Jackson sister LaToya playing the role of the king of pop.

Media sourpusses have called the reenactments shameless sensationalism, but who cares what they say? Network executives are pleasantly surprised by the response to the creative interpretations and even see a future for other reenactments, with the possibility of extending them into hour-long shows, which might at least prevent yet another version of C.S.I. or Law & Order.

“Can you envision what this might mean for the future of network news?� asked E! News Director Vanessa Holmes, who obviously could, judging by the visible nipple outlines. “No longer would the news be limited to delivering long, in-depth trial coverage of famous people—we could suck in the audiences by casting famous people as nobody criminals! Like that guy who murdered everybody in the courtroom today. Think of all that sweet action, as directed by John Woo! If we had it on tape, some clumsy, shaky footage, we might get an art-house crowd—yuck! But cast Ving Rhames as the defendant, and Robert Duvall as the dead judge. Now that’s real news!�

Someone once told me I had such bad luck in my life I ought to be a country singer. A blues singer told me that, after he heard me sing the blues. Mom said he was just trying to get me to leave the club so the people would stop booing, but I went and bought the hat anyway.

Mom warned me my country singing career would be short-lived, like my hamster. I sang one song about my wife running off with my best friend and having a flat tire on my truck, but I had made it up—I wish I had a truck. My wife did run off with my best friend, though. Although she wasn't my wife yet, just a mail-order bride that had stepped off the plane from Korea, and the guy she ran away with was the pilot, but he looked like my best friend, dead up, I swear. Tommy? Timmy? It's something like that. I haven't seen him since the fourth grade, you can't blame me for getting the name messed up.

The audience didn't like my song. "Open mic," sure, until you actually try to sing, then it closes pretty damn fast. People told me nobody sings feel-bad old country anymore. Now they sing feel-good new country, and only fans of real music feel bad when they hear it. You know me, you can't stop me with a brick wall or pure logic or the fact nobody likes me. I went and bought some leather pants to match my new hat and became a feel-good new country singer. Okay, I didn't buy the pants, but I made them out of the seats of my car. They're more chaps than pants right now, but after I hit it big I'm going to buy the material to sew backs onto them.

I had to get a day job to support my nights of singing at open mics. A few wise guys have told me not to quit my day job, but I'm not going to—I'll probably get fired, as soon as they find out I've been throwing all the mail in the garbage instead of delivering it. I don't need hang-ups with office politics and bullshit. I've got my music to think about, and that homemade guitar has really been fueling my songwriting. It's not a typical guitar, either. It's more of a small TV set with a plunger on the side, but I've already written five songs. Two of them are just the theme to "The Rockford Files," but I made up the lyrics. I tried making up lyrics to the song from "The Facts of Life," but my talent doesn't work when someone's already singing lyrics to it.

My favorite song I wrote so far is "You Don't Love Me 'Cause You're Stuck Up." It's about my mother. Gets me all misty-eyed every time I sing it. I want to write a song about my dad, just to even things out, but my mom can't remember his name. I'm hoping it's "Adlai," 'cause I really need something that rhymes with "left me to die" so I can end the song.

So far none of the audiences have responded too well, but it's not like they're paying me anything, and it's better than standing in line, waiting for a movie and doing nothing, right? That's not what the theater manager says, but he's just mad because I gave away the ending to Million Dollar Baby in one of my songs. Don't blame me, dude, you're the one who let me in the theater to use the bathroom. Who knows, maybe a movie-going audience is more of a jazz crowd. I could do jazz really well, if I wanted to. I never rehearse and my songs always sound different the second time I play them 'cause I can't remember how I played them the first time.

That's it. I'm switching to jazz.

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