Perhaps it will come as a vague consolation to the parents of Ben Kinsella that he was not murdered for racial reasons, but simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, as they say. Ben, aged 16, who was white, was stabbed to death by three black men near a nightclub in north London; there was no apparent motive for the murder.

If you were a cynic you might argue that if a black kid had been stabbed to death by three white men in an otherwise motiveless attack then the community centre would already have been built by now and the grieving parents recognised in the honours lists.

It is good that we are quick to become enraged by violent white racism, that it appals us and makes us examine our society, claw away in an attempt to discover those subterranean causes. But what of this, apparently, non-racist murder? Just as much brutal honesty is required to confront it, I think. Maybe more.

The truth is, violent white-on-black crime is a rarity in Britain, by comparison – although white-on-Asian crime is rather less so. The overwhelming bulk of violent street crime in London is committed by young black men, and in numerous cases against white people, although one would not impute a racial motive; the statistics suggest that young black male criminals are quite happy to stab or shoot anybody who hoves into view with either a bulging wallet, a mobile phone or an assumed reflection of disrespec’ in their eyes.

Apologies if this offends – but that’s how it is. At most, the African Caribbean population of London is about 12% of the whole. But black males are responsible for nearly 60% of arrests for robbery – and the overwhelming majority of gun crime, most of it black-on-black violence.

We skirt this issue, mostly for decent, if deluding reasons – that a proportion of young black males is more likely to commit violent crime than other sectors of the population. It is a form of racism, though, to assume that the problem is simply a given, and unalterable – but we have been hamstrung in our attempts to deal with it for reasons of political correctness.

The propensity of some young black males to underachieve at school and later commit crimes of violence has been seen for too long as a roguish expression of cultural diversity, exacerbated by our own inherent racism and economic oppression; in other words, it’s not their fault. Indeed the culture of violence, misogyny and epic drug abuse, exemplified in rap music, has been lapped up by a bovine liberal white culture that finds the vibrancy and “edginess” of gangsta rap something in which we should all exult and indeed emulate.

At the same time, we are reluctant to draw attention to the fatherless families in our black communities, the absence of male role models and teachers, even though we know that this is not a good thing, as we increasingly realise it is not a good thing for white boys either. We have been shy of condemning this demeaned culture for fear of being branded racist; too quick to make excuses when the education statistics arrive and show black males right down at the bottom, even below poor whites. But not black females, note; they do well at school and are high achievers later on too. This is only a racist thing if you make it a racist thing.

There is a horrible symmetry to the case of Ben Kinsella. He foresaw, in a school essay, that he might one day be stabbed to death in the street, although he was too nice a kid to suggest that the perpetrators would be black.

His assailants, meanwhile, quite incapable of writing an essay, had demonstrated their own commitment to the eventual murder by having previously been variously convicted of extreme, nihilistic violence, robbery and selling drugs. All parties were set on a trajectory which was to end in Ben’s death. In his last moments, Ben asked of the young men wielding the knives why they had picked on him. No sentient answer was forthcoming, apparently.

+ Like you, I’ve been bitten by Iranian election fever and stayed up all night to watch the results roll in from Tehran Central, Isfahan West etc. I was originally rooting for Mir Hossein Mousavi’s exciting modernisers, whose young followers wear daring green burqas rather than the officially approved ones in matt black and ash grey. Mousavi wishes to continue the policy of scraping together enough plutonium to expunge Tel Aviv, but will at least do so in a pro-western suit and tie and without a clerical beard. On social policy, I believe Mousavi still thinks adulterous women should be stoned, but the stones should be smaller with fewer pointy bits.

I was all for Mousavi and even had a poster of him on my bedroom wall – until I saw last week’s edition of Panorama, which focused on one young dissident who wished for urgent change and modernity. His name was “Nobody” and – nuff respec’ – he was an Iranian rap artist spouting angry social commentary over a bitchin’ hip-hop beat, accompanied by the requisite Ali G poses and hand gestures. At which point my proxy vote slipped effortlessly over to President Ahmadinejad. Come on you Iranians, I thought – vote early, vote often, vote conservative.

Normal for Swansea

The city of Swansea has just got itself into Guinness World Records for having the largest gathering of people dressed as Smurfs in one place. This is the sort of thing which really puts towns on the map, helps attract local businesses and boosts the tourist trade – I will certainly be spending my summer holidays there.

The congratulations, though, have been tempered by some bad feeling from rivals who have argued that Swansea had a head start seeing as most of the locals didn’t need to wear fancy dress. But there is nothing in the rule book, apparently, to stop a town winning even if it is entirely populated by Smurfs, so it is lucky for Swansea that Newcastle upon Tyne didn’t take part this year.

Hardly an aid to restful sleep

I am never sure whether I should believe all those weird human interest stories which keep us entertained, either with shock or laughter. The little lad in Germany, for example, suffering from an incurable illness who asked his countrymen to send him get-well cards. He received more than 1m, which were stacked up in his bedroom and then toppled over, killing him instantly. You suspect it’s all a bit too neat and appalling to be true.

But this latest one, from Israel, is surely beyond suspicion. A woman called Anat decided to buy her aged mum a new mattress. She threw the old, grubby one out and it was taken to the dump. And then, all too late, Anat was told that her mum had stashed almost $1m (£607,000) inside it. Awwww, no!

According to the local press, Anat is now scouring rubbish dumps for that mattress, but remaining “philosophical”. Now Anat, keep looking, keep looking, until the press disappear.

* * * * *

Two students from Oxford University Conservative Association have been suspended from the party for having told racist jokes while under the influence. Action was swift lest it become established in the public mind that the Tories are braying upper-class half-wits.

The joke, stolen from the Ann Winterton Book of Racist Fun, had a punchline which you could espy from a distance and avoid, as it made its lumpen way towards you, like watching Nicholas Soames emerging from the Garrick club after a long lunch. Why are Tory jokes never funny?

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