So I was reading about the security services' concern over internet anonymity, and something was bothering me. There was a line in The Guardian. “People have many accounts and sign up as Mickey Mouse and no one knows who they are,” a Whitehall source had said. “We have to do something.” And I was perturbed.

At first, I couldn't figure out why. Maybe, I thought, I had done one of those inadvertent bits of mental gymnastics, where you read “Whitehall source” and you think, perhaps, “Whitehall sauce”. Like Worcester sauce, only fishy-tasting, and with a bowler hat as a cap. Or maybe it was the idea of Mickey Mouse being carted off to Guantanamo. Duct-tape over the paws, sodden ears flapping around on the waterboard.

Reading it again, though, it hit me. A Whitehall source? Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I had a sudden hunch. Maybe, I found myself thinking, “a Whitehall source” was not this person's real name.

Hey, I could be wrong. Possibly the “A” stood for something. Alan? Arnold? Young Archibald Whitehall-Source, quite the easiest gig the school careers master ever had. Although I doubt it. I think my hunch was correct. I think this was somebody speaking anonymously, expressing his concerns that other people were speaking anonymously.

It looks bad. Imagine Gordon Brown had said “the City must curb its irresponsible behaviour”, while nipping into his local branch of Ladbrokes to place a massive flutter on a three-legged nag that some geezer had tipped down the boozer. Imagine Linda McCartney had preached vegetarianism while tucking into a juicy steak. Imagine Al Gore had warned us about climate change, while simultaneously flying all over the world and leaving his lights on.

Actually, wait. You don't need to imagine that last one. But think about it, anyway. It's just the same.

Anonymity is the great democratic boon of the internet age. And yes, some people will exploit it in order to join social networking groups called “People Who Want To Bathe In the Blood Of The Slaughtered Infidel”, or whatever. Most, though, do not. They just use it in order to express views that they hold dearly, and perhaps passionately, without having to fear that those who oppose these views will come and lurk with a chainsaw in the shrubbery of their front gardens. Or arrest them. Or associate them forever with some comment which, on reflection, makes them look like a bit of a berk. You'd think Mr Whitehall Source would understand that. Even better than most.

To his credit

I spoke to a banker the other day. Not my banker. Just this chap I know, who banks. Let's call him A. Banker, for thematic consistency.

Anyway, he was remarkably chipper. “I've just been nationalised,” he said. “I'm a civil servant, me. In at nine, out at five. Pip pip.” This was a joke. I suppose he's something of an oddity, Mr Banker. He's not particularly financially motivated, which might sound odd, but that's not my fault. He's just really into banking. As a result, he's having a great time.

The future is a worry, obviously, and the yacht plans are on hold, but for anybody seriously into banking, now is a fascinating time to bank. Plus, he's much in demand. Friends keep phoning him up, like me, and asking him about things. Crowds have been gathering around him in pubs, while he declaims on the lofty philosophy of credit and debt. This has never happened before. He's spoken about such things in the past, often at length, but I suspect that eyes have always glazed. Now, they grow wide and moist.

And yet, from what Mr Banker says, lots of other bankers have no interest in this kind of thing at all. There he is, glued to the television, like a rocket scientist watching the Moon landing, or a celebrity journalist watching Madonna's divorce, awestruck by the bigger picture, and hardly anybody else even wants to talk about it. Many bankers, even very talented ones, aren't really that interested in banking at all. They just bank. It's a totally different thing.

Unsuitable

The consensus seems to hold that General Colin Powell did not actually embarrass himself too much in performing an impromptu dance on stage with a Nigerian hip-hop outfit at the Africa Rising event at the Albert Hall on Wednesday. As consensuses go, I'd say this is an awkward one. Commentators have referred to surprising ability on his part, and there has been more than one emergence of that dread phrase “natural rhythm”. It is as though they feel he may possess some sort of dancing dispensation, which other most political leaders - George Bush, say - does not. Whatever could be on their minds?

Whatever. This sort of thing is to be resisted, and vehemently. Powell should not have danced on stage, period. This is because he was wearing a suit. There are only two circumstances in which a man should dance in a suit. These are (a) if he is at a wedding, and (b) if he is the trumpet player in a two-tone ska revival band, and is also wearing sunglasses and a hat.

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