Ali J

HOOK, ENGLAND – I’ve spent the last two days getting kidnapped, shot at, hanging out with Al Jazeera, and drinking plenty of beer. Except for one crucial element, it should be great training for Iraq and Afghanistan.

I’m at a week-long training course that could be named “How not to get killed in a war zone,” though it goes by the more proper “Risk Assessment.” It’s taught by a group of ex-Royal Marines who don’t fuck around and will color their presentation on land mines with sentences that start with, “When I saw someone step on a mine…”

After this class, if one of you should take a fall after a big night in downtown Boise, you’ll be happy to know that I can check to see if your pelvis is broken.

The course takes place at a stately manor in the rolling countryside, a la 28 Days Later, southwest of London. Deer and cottontails prance on the acres of lawn and you can just make out the first of the zombies cresting the hill behind the pond (Kerry, you would die — or at least be really worried about dying).

I’m the only American reporter here and I think I’m looked at as a bit of an oddity, but everyone has been very friendly. At one point I was having pints with Kiwi, Lebanese, Kazahk, German, and British-Pakistani reporters all at the same table.

I’ve spent the most time with the three Al Jazeera journalists in the group, who are some of the most professional, engaged television reporters I’ve run into.

The funniest thing I’ve heard this week: “I’m so excited to be in England. I love the food.”