Julian Burnside, QC, on the accursed growth of ‘security' cameras:

In Britain, there are more than 6 million CCTV cameras. Not many people seem to care, but it is worth reflecting that most of the cameras we see around town are monitored all the time. If the cameras were replaced by spies, we might react differently. Imagine a society in which the citizens were regularly watched by 6 million human observers.

During the Sydney 2000 Olympics, the cycleway across the Harbour Bridge went from zero cameras to about one every 10 meters (so, 40+). Absurd.

To combat the hilarious rumour/accusation that Fabian Cancellara used a mini-motor to literally power his wins in the Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix, the Tour is performing random scans of bikes to check for engines.

Of course, this being cycling, they have implemented the testing completely wrong:

The duty of taking bikes to the UCI scanners fell to the team mechanics, who had half an hour to comply.

Wait: the team mechanic has half an hour after the race finished to deliver the bike? Would that be the same team mechanic who would fit the motor in the first place?

/facepalm

ACMA has ruled that (commercial) Digital Radio stations don’t need to have an Australian quota, which is a shame as it means even less exposure for local artists. Commercial Radio Australia CEO Joan Warner has deployed a huge spin by saying this decision will “encourage diversity”, then using the examples of Pink Radio and Radio GaGa. Real diverse, those two hardly get any exposure anywhere.

I’ve always rated the Stones above the Beatles, ‘cos they’ve got more soul. But somehow I’ve never owned Exile, which didn’t stop me scoffing at the “Greatest Rock ‘n' Roll Record Ever” tag. What about Let It Bleed? That’s the pinnacle.

But having bought the reissue, now I get it: Exile is not the greatest Stones record, it’s the greatest rock ‘n' roll record. It oozes guitar, drums, bass, horns, sex, drugs, glamour, danger, humour and chaos. Mick’s mesmerising drawl, Keef’s brilliantly just-held-together guitar, and a rhythm section for the ages. It almost doesn’t work, it’s constantly in the balance, and yet somehow they bring it home. It’s the essence or what it means to be a down and dirty rock star. Rock and roll baby.

The Festival of Sport continues, with le Tour gracefully taking the baton from the World Cup. The Sports Broadcasting Station Tour site has all the info you need, though the Guardian’s Stage Guide pips SBS’s.

Can’t possibly work - it would be unplayable with a touch screen (it’s hard enough using a keyboard). One of the few games that mandates an arcade stick.

The method in Maradona’s madness, and the genius of Messi.

Gallery from Vanity Fair.