Mr Baudrillard tells us that the Gulf War did not take place. That the reporting of it on the television and in the newspapers at the time made the people of the West "hostages to media intoxication", and that this has been the case with reporting of conflicts and terrorism ever since. I certainly remember never having heard of CNN until 1991, when the company's logo was indelibly attached to the endless hours of footage on UK news reports. Many UK viewers thought CNN was the new name for the USA.

Mr La Fontaine tells us, ‘the day there is real war you will not even be able to tell the difference".

Mr McLuhan tells us "the medium is the message".

As I glance around, it's difficult not to agree. Since 1991, the reporting of war has become so fast, so flashy, so sexy, so rabid, that War does seem first and foremost something made for telly. Like Richard And Judy, but less violent.

The band Coldplay are among those currently asking everyone to walk out of their jobs if the US and UK start attacking Iraq. Such General Strike-style sentiments are admirable, even revolutionary, and the thought of Coldplay going on strike has to be one bright side of the imminent conflict.

But I can't help thinking that, outside of those directly involved with the fighting, the only people whose withdrawing of labour would really Stop The War are those who work in the media.

If every TV and radio station and every newspaper suddenly shut down today, my impression is that Mr War would indeed Stop at once, and flounce off in a hypothetical huff to phone its agent. Along with Mr Schrodinger's unfortunate cat, the fridge light, and that wretchedly noisy tree falling in the forest.

I'm not saying that ignoring coverage of a war would make it go away. But it would call the bluff of all those slavering, overexcited news readers. If they and their colleagues just calmed down a little, I might be able to take what they say seriously.

It's easy for me to be an idling, narcissistic, powdered fop. I'm lucky. I've never known War outside of my TV set. If I find the news upsetting, I turn it off and go for a saunter in Highgate Wood, where there's squirrels and birds and trees and a little cafe where there is literally honey still for tea, and all is well.

But I do often wonder what would happen if events did affect me directly. If I had to deal with a personal them-or-us situation. If Mr War came to tea. Which is why one of my favourite films is <a href="http://www.plugincinema.com/plugin/articles/wentdaywell.htm">Went The Day Well?</a>, made by Ealing Studios in 1942. An unusual, unsentimental work, it tells the story of a sleepy, timelessly peaceful English village whose almost stereotypically cosy residents become cold-blooded warriors in order to survive a German invasion force. The violence in the film is, as you might imagine, childishly tame compared to the likes of "Saving Private Ryan". Yet the brutal acts it depicts are extremely affecting due to the Ealing Films context, amplified all the more by the absence of incidental music, the many bleakly comic moments, and the odd diversions of tone.

In one scene, two landgirls (women who took up farmwork because of the manpower shortage) are firing rifles from the windows of the village manor at approaching Germans on the lawn. One girl shoots successfully, then turns and puts her hand over her face at the sickening realisation she has taken a human life. "I… shot one," she says to her colleague.

"Good girl", replies the other girl, Ivy, a feisty Northerner. "You know, we ought to keep a score. That's one for you. Half a moment, now, I'll have a go. Missed him. Can't even hit a sitting Jerry."

Here's the movie's promotional poster. Ivy is on the bottom right of the group of figures:

<img src="http://www.britmovie.co.uk/studios/ealing/filmography/images/29a.jpg"></img>

The young actress playing Ivy is Thora Hird. Who died this weekend, at the age of 91.

The thought of Thora Hird gunning down Nazis is an amusing one to British TV viewers, as she was famous for being the UK's Most Lovable Old Lady. The Queen Mother of the TV acting world. So much so, that it's difficult to imagine her ever being <i>young</i> at all.

I note that other obituaries have all drawn attention to her portrayal of many a mother, grandmother, wife, for her roles in Alan Bennett plays and Last Of The Summer Wine, and for her presenting of the Sunday tea-time religious programme, Praise Be. Not to mention being the butt of many a gentle joke for her advertising Stannah Stair-Lifts in the back of the Radio Times magazine.

But her role in Went The Day Well, which is now considered a classic British film with serious academic books dedicated to it, appears to have gone unmentioned. Perhaps because it goes against the grain of her Definitive Old Lady persona. I have the film on video, and last night watched it again by way of a tribute.

And as I did so, I considered that here was Thora Hird at my present age, 31. Living in a time when War was something more than a flashy way of selling TV sets. Making a film about what would happen if Mr War knocked on one's own front door. Playing someone forced to kill or be killed. I think about the bravery of her character, and hope to heaven that if Mr War ever came to my street, there'd be someone like Ivy around.

Goodnight, landgirl sniper.