So Chief Censor Bill Hastings is stepping down, and after twelve years in the job he maintains the steady diet of sex, violence and bestiality he watches in his day job has left him wholly unaffected. Since the argument for the Censor's office consists largely of saying that repeated exposure to that sort of material is going to turn you into a beast, seems to me that makes him a walking refutation of his own position.
Seems to me, therefore, that Hastings stepping down is an ideal opportunity to ask, "Why have a censor at all?"
Whose business is it what I watch in the privacy of my home? Not a government flunky, that's for sure.
Whose business is it what a private cinema-owners chooses to show on his own screen? Not a government-appointed busybody, that's for sure.
Whose business is it what consenting adults choose to make in the privacy of their own motel rooms? Not some prissy puritan arguing that he speaks for all of us.
The resignation of Bill Hastings offers an ideal opportunity to recognise the foolishness of having a bureaucrat whose job it is to determine what your neighbour’s standards are, and then to enforce them on you.
So grasp the opportunity with both hands. Don't appoint a new chief censor, shut the damn place down.