Feature writers swoon, “She’s a marvellous hostess”, or “She’s ever so warm-hearted” about Elizabeth Murdoch, ignoring the wider picture. Just as I’m sure there are journalists in Cambodia who said, “but when you get to know him, Pol is actually a really sweet guy.”Most people don’t get to attend the charity balls and banquets frequented by really important people, but most of the East End of London in the Sixties could claim a connection to the Krays. “My mum used to mend their mum’s dresses,” someone once told me proudly. I’m sure there are people who roll up their shirts in pubs and say, “Guess who done that knife wound Go on Ronnie Kray, that’s who. I’d have asked him to sign it for me if I hadn’t been on a life-support machine.”But the contemporary affection towards old gangsters doesn’t only spring from these areas.

Villainy is chic in literature and film, and a history of torturing people in council flats seems to guarantee a table at any society function. Petty criminals will soon be followed around by agents and promoters, who hug them and splutter, “Oh darling, when you plugged in those electrodes you were simply maaaaarvellous.” Hit men will turn up at their hide-out before going on a job, and find a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne with a message saying “good luck”.Attitudes to gangsters have gone the same way as sexism. You shouldn’t worry that they pulled out some poor sod’s fingernails, they were only being ironic.So the next time one of them dies, they may well get the same treatment as other celebrities. The newsreader will adopt that solemn look and say: “Tributes have been flooding in for one of Britain’s best-loved gangsters. Frankie Fraser said he was ‘a credit to his profession’, and Barbara Windsor said ‘he was a doll, and he only ever scalped his own kind’.”When I go, however, I want no plumed horses. I say this because following a column about East End gangsters and Islamic Fundamentalists, it’s an issue that may need addressing some time around next Tuesday afternoon.
More from Mark Steel.

Children are very ignorant about the countryside these days, so today I bring you a rather special rural ramble with the ever-knowledgeable Uncle Geoff, and his two willing little assistants Robert and Susie. Children are very ignorant about the countryside these days, so today I bring you a rather special rural ramble with the ever-knowledgeable Uncle Geoff, and his two willing little assistants Robert and Susie.
“Look, children,” said Uncle Geoff. “The telegraph wires are bare in the field! What do you think that means?”"Well, actually,” said young Robert, as the three of them strolled along the meadow near the river, “that’s a slight exaggeration The telegraph wires aren’t actually bare, not literally. You see, they’re coated with a thin outer layer of insulating material…”"Yes, yes” said Uncle Geoff, interrupting before Robert could show off too much God knows where children got these facts from University Challenge, perhaps. “What I meant was, have you noticed that the swallows have vanished? Last week they were clustered on the wires, and now they’ve gone! Where do you think they have gone?”"Egypt, Sudan, that sort of area,” said Robert.”Via Italy,” said Susan.”Where most of them will be shot at by Italian sportsmen,” said Robert, “thus doing nothing for the reputation of Italians as people who won’t take on someone their own size.”"That’s right, to Egypt,” said Uncle Geoff, ignoring this last bit. “South to the sun and warmth and food! Who else does that in winter?”"You do,” said Robert.

“You’re off on another cruise, aren’t you?”"Might be, might not,” said Uncle Geoff. “But you can’t help being impressed by the endurance of the swallows in flying all that way, especially as some of them are babies born in Britain this summer!”"Will the swallows have another clutch of babies in Egypt, Uncle Geoff?” said Susan, in that innocent tone of voice she used when she suspected that Uncle Geoff didn’t know the answer.”Er, well, I’m not sure,” he said. “I would think that the mummy swallow would like a rest from having families! Wouldn’t you?”"No, I wouldn’t,” said Robert “That’s not the way nature works, Uncle Geoff. Copulate, procreate, copulate, procreate, that’s the way nature works. The numbers game, Uncle Geoff.”"Maybe that’s why some animals hibernate!” said Uncle Geoff, trying to make light of Robert’s filth “To get a rest from sex!”"Hardly,” said Susan. “After all, female bats have sex before hibernation to make sure that they don’t need fertilisation afterwards.”"Are they pregnant throughout hibernation?” said Uncle Geoff , shocked.”Oh, no,” said Susan. “They keep the sperm in suspension all through hibernation, then impregnate themselves with it when they wake up, even though their mate may be long dead by then.”"Good heavens,” said Uncle Geoff.

This was one thing they certainly hadn’t picked up on University Challenge. “Where did you learn that?”"In sex-education class,” said Robert.”Good heavens,” said Uncle Geoff again. “Why do they teach you the sexual habits of bats? Do they think you might go out on a date with a bat?”"Very funny, Uncle Geoff,” said Robert “No, it’s something to do with comparative religion. It’s become fashionable to teach other religions beside Christianity so we get things in perspective. Perhaps they think comparative sex should be introduced as well.”"All very odd,” said Uncle Geoff “When I was a lad, we didn’t have all this sort of stuff.