Column

In the beginning, or in the 1960s and ‘70s in Britain, was a word and the word was ‘Paki’. It was short for Pakistani, but packed an insulting abbreviated punch and was used by nasties as a word of abuse and insult to any person of South Asian descent.

It was strangely effective, even though, say abbreviating British to ‘Brit’ would not be.
Since then, ‘Paki’, like all curses, with constant use, lost its potency and power in very many contexts. Still it never crossed over into polite discourse, staying on the wrong side of decency, as the ‘f’ word has, even though its meanings now embrace being devastated, told to go way, expressing surprise, being in despair.

Through three generations of immigrant settlement in the sceptred isle, the word has become somewhat anodyne when used in certain contexts. People refer to the Asian-owned corner shop as the ‘Paki-shop’ without giving their words any thought, but also without meaning much offence.

So it was surprising that the word hit the headlines again last week after one of the dancing partners of a duo on a hit BBC ballroom dancing show called Strictly Come Dancing, used it unthinkingly and jokingly on his partner.

The TV show, watched by millions, features one professional dancer training a semi-celebrity to dance ballroom. We see the rehearsals and then the dressed performances in front of judges. The dancers who climb the pyramid of selection through a process of judgment, public voting by phone and elimination, perform different steps each week.

Getting to the top of the pyramid in this series were Laila Rouass, Indo-Morrocan TV and film actress (who I recall acted in a film which I scripted called Split Wide Open and directed by Dev Benegal), and her professional dancer partner, Anton du Beke.

Laila, it seems, brought a fake-tan can into the rehearsal studio and Anton looked at it and remarked that it would make her ‘look like a Paki’. It was probably a light-hearted of-the-cuff remark but the instant reports in the newspapers and on the TV said Ms Rouass was reduced to tears by the insult and Anton had to apologise profusely and beg to make it better.

It was then reported that his apology had been immediately accepted and the couple went on to dance like a dream in the next night’s televised competition. I have no idea if this was a cynically manipulated publicity stunt, but am certain that the attention that du Beke’s single-word slight received from the press and public is part of what is known in Britain as the Shilpa syndrome — the mild racially identifying abuse, followed by tears, apologies and a trip to the bank for all.

Contrast the treatment meted out to my strong and steadfast, ‘best beloved’, youngest daughter when she went to a new secondary school at the age of 12. It’s a mixed school and she gravitated towards a set in her class who were known as the most popular girls and boys.

They may not have been the company I would have chosen for her but then playground alliances and after-hours Facebook contacts are not a matter of parental choice. The dynamics of the group turned nasty as those of teenage groups sometimes do, but this being Henley-on-Thames, a particularly conservative and vicious preserve of British middle-class half-wittedness, the boys and girls of the group turned against my child and began calling her a ‘Paki’ and systematically isolating her for no discernible reason.

It was nasty and there was no publicity or TV money to be had. Other friends, girls she had known at primary school, rallied round her and soon the two boys who were the instigators of the racial abuse were isolated from the girls of the original group whose gender loyalty proved stronger than the racial divide and who befriended my daughter again through generously accepted apologies.

The writer is a London-based scriptwriter