I have a theory about the BBC’s madcap Sherlock Holmes redo: Sherlock. But more of that later.

The new Holmes is played by Benedict Cumberbatch, an actor who dispenses the role with a single facial expression — a blank stare — and a wild impression of St Vitus’s Dance (an illness, by the way).

Incidentally, can you imagine any parents naming their new-born, Benedict Cumberbatch? How did he survive school?

Steven Moffat, a writer/producer with the Beeb, is up to his Dr Who tricks again with the nation’s best-loved detective. Set in 21st-century Britain, Dr Watson (Martin Freeman) is a tweeter and blogger, and Holmes, sorry, Sherlock (such familiarity!), is a gangly semi-magician, probably a spin-off from Jonathan Creek. I won’t even get started on Moriarty.

Sherlock looks like a robot, speaks like a computer and knows the contents of any box (“cufflinks, tiepin”), and the life history of any person he sees for more than a second or two (“married with two children, works in a jewellers”). This becomes really tiresome after a while.

Meanwhile, Dr Watson is not the good and faithful servant of Conan Doyle’s stories but an exasperated flatmate, constantly fed up with his companion’s lunacy.

And here I come to my theory, which will probably be revealed in the final episode. They need more to make up a box set, since you asked.

It is my belief that Martin Freeman is the real Holmes, while the pixilated Cumberbatch is Watson after a spell in a mental institution, now out on Care in the Community.

After all those years in the shade, good egg Watson is under the delusion that he is the master detective, while Holmes (Martin Freeman) plays along with it on doctors’ orders. Mark my words, I can spot a plot twist a mile off.

A final riposte to Comrade Moffat. Do stop repeating that balefully stupid bon mot, written on one of Conan Doyle’s off-days: “When the impossible has been eliminated, whatever is left must be the truth.”

It is not impossible for me to change my name by deed poll to Benedict Cumberbatch, but I can assure you it will never be the truth.

Wee Eck, or Alex Salmond as he’s known down south, believes his rank of First Minister of Scotland is demeaning to his position in life. Only the top job will do.

He would like a complete break with the United Kingdom, taking all the oil fields, picking up none of the National Debt, and using Sterling for as long as he wants while having a say in monetary policy.

He also expects the rest of the UK to take on the vast liabilities of the zombie Scottish banks: RBS and HBoS, which were brought to their current pass by Scottish politicians in London. As bids go, it falls just short of Adolf Hitler’s sense of entitlement.

Scotland brought nothing but its own bankruptcy to the Union and was rescued by the English Exchequer. Why would they expect anything back after deserting their fellow countrymen?

The Scottish people, who enjoy having their own parliament, but are very wary of the wider ambitions of their cocksure leader, are not being told the full implications of separation.

Their Triple-A credit rating, consequent upon the Union with England, will almost certainly be downgraded to something like Triple B, virtually junk status. They will not get all the oil fields, nor will they be allowed to be like Greece is to Germany by retaining the pound.

As for joining the European Union, Germany and its allies are in no mood to take on another small, bankrupt basket case. They have too many of those on their books already.

If any Scottish voters are reading this, beware of that slippery fish Salmond. Remember that salmon always swim up river against the tide.

Poppycock Watch
Michael Gove has apparently been slapped down by the Prime Minister for suggesting the nation fork out £60m for a new Royal Yacht Britannia as a gift to the Queen on her Diamond Jubilee. The republican Lib Dems are probably behind the veto.

But has the Education Secretary any idea how long it takes to commission, design, build, equip and launch a ship that size? I believe the anniversary is on February 6th, 21 days from now.

Back to school, Michael.

Poor Ed Miliband did his best on Marr yesterday but was rendered unwatchable by his rubbery face and adenoidal diction. It’s hard to get round those attributes and listen intently to his ideas — I’m assuming there were any.

Conservatives must pray for his continuance in the role of Leader of the Opposition. However, if he is to avoid total humiliation in forthcoming polls and a General Election, he would do himself a favour by graciously standing down.

Fratricides are rarely rewarded with public office, especially when they prove not up to the job.

I was delighted to see that Dr Rupert Sheldrake has a new book out, serialised last week by the Daily Mail. The Science Delusion continues the theme started in his eye-opener, The Sense of Being Stared At. Here’s my own contribution to the subject:

Anyone who travels to work on the London tube will be aware of how uncomfortable it is. I don’t mean the overcrowding and standing room only.

On tube trains most people bury themselves in books, Kindles or newspapers, rarely looking up except to see if they have arrived at their destination. Even the most gregarious of folk will avoid any contact with their fellow passengers.

This syndrome, as it might be called, is thought to be something of a neurosis. In other words, human behaviour deriving from an inappropriate response to one’s environment. It’s so widespread, though, that it has crossed over into the normal.

A related condition is when people feel uneasy entering a communal room, or speaking in front of an audience. This can be so painful that a few seek the help of the NHS’s Cognitive Behavioural Unit at their local hospital.

The notion is that there’s a flaw in the wiring of their brain which must be rewired appropriately. Neurosis, so called, is the most prevalent “psychological illness” in our times.

But is the cause of it really inappropriate behaviour at all? Is it the sufferers fault? In a lot of cases, I don’t think so.

Consider, in large cities, where these symptoms largely develop, we are walking around in a psychic soup of other people’s thoughts and emotions: Sheldrake’s “extended mind”. Some of us are more susceptible to psychic influences than others, but everyone will have some inkling of them.

Tube phobia may not be a phobia at all, but a natural susceptibility to other people’s mental states, plus an intense dislike of finding ourselves locked into a disconcerting psychic soup. For many it must be like descending into the Underworld rather than the Underground.

Before rushing off to see a shrink, consider that the “fault” may not lie with you, but indicates a strong psychic sensibility — a talent not a disease.

John Evans

who is the author of The Eternal Quest for Immortality: Is it staring you in the face? Available from Amazon and all good booksellers.

Mystics in the Modern World is coming soon.

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