It comes to something when racism from a Briton is described as "disgusting" by a black American raised in Harlem. Singer Kelis, who memorably brought milk shake to the yard, used Twitter to describe an incident at a Spanish border control, where a British man, thinking she'd pushed in, called her a "slave", "probably a disgusting Nigerian" and "Kunta Kinte". Talking of our riots, Kelis said that she felt Britain was "decades behind in progression… everything is swept under the rug".

There was some initial confusion about where it happened. Boris Johnson mistakenly wrote to the UK Border Agency about the incident. He also tweeted an apology to Kelis, assuring her that her incident was "not typical" of Britain. I, too, read the report, thinking that Kelis's abuse at the hands of a British person seemed highly unusual and extreme.

Then it struck me how presumptuous and ridiculous I was being. However liberal and informed I like to think I am, I remain white. So, as far as first-hand experience of racism from my fellow Britons goes, what the hell do I know?

UK border control, Spanish border control, it's irrelevant – it was still a British person allegedly spouting the abuse, behaving, we'd like to think, out of national character. For me, this story was a wake-up call. There are few things certain in this world, but I'm fairly confident I'm never going to be standing in a queue with my child, as Kelis was, getting called "slave", "Kunta Kinte" or any variation thereof.

It's unlikely I'll ever be a victim of racism. Does this shut me up or give me pause on the subject? Apparently not. From my position of cosseted ignorance, my immediate reaction to Kelis's story was: "Well, that's terrible. But it's not what British people are like; we are a tolerant people; our racism is not that bad."

This, Kelis might be interested to know, is what a lot of nice white British folk do. Not so much sweep it under the rug as grab the telescope and look down the wrong end. Framing the situation to put the notion of white witness at the centre. If we can't see it, it's not happening. The presumption is that what white people know of racism is all anybody needs to know. How galling for the black people, or other non-white people, who are actually experiencing it.

Back in Blighty, this is not about a self-hating whitey getting her PC knickers in a twist. Of course, British white people know about racism. We've all got eyes and ears for what's going on and a stake in the outcome. All I'm saying is that sympathy is one thing, personal experience quite another. If it isn't actually happening to you, all you ever see is a partial picture.

Meanwhile, non-whites are probably quietly putting up with more than anyone realises. Far from there being a "PC culture gone mad", I would wager a fair bit of vile abuse isn't complained about or even mentioned – it would be too exhausting and time-consuming. It must not only be the hammer blows that get to you, but also the paper cuts – the dreary indignities, underminings, and exclusions that filter into everyday life, such as some moron kicking off at an airport.

This seems particularly true in a country such as Britain where the racism is frequently cloaked and insidious. Would that British guy have said what he did in a UK queue? Who knows.

We should be grateful to Kelis for getting vocal, lifting a rock to show the dirty business going on beneath. Perhaps it made some white people realise that it's not all about us and our perceptions of racism.

Just because we don't see something going on, it doesn't mean it isn't.

Scooby-Doo healthy? Take a hike

According to a GovernmentDepartment of Health study about children's fitness, Scooby-Doo tops the list of "healthy" children's programmes, because he and the rest of the gang are always "walking on short journeys".

Much as I adore Scooby, I must protest in the strongest possible terms. Scooby et al always start adventures doing the most pointless of journeys in the Mystery Machine van – they are petrol-guzzling, bone-idle slackers. Moreover, Scooby and stoner pal Shaggy are constantly looking for Scooby Snacks, usually giant, multilayered sandwiches eaten in one gulp. Is this the example we want to set our children?

Fifth from bottom comes Postman Pat – unfairly maligned, because not only does he care for his black-and-white cat, but he spends all day delivering mail (well, one parcel, but it takes him ages). Bizarrely, Charlie and Lola came bottom, even though there is an entire book devoted to Lola being nagged about eating tomatoes by creepy, control freak, older brother Charlie. Charlie's mental development would probably benefit from not hanging around his little sister so much – get a few more friends your own age.

Obviously, the "healthiest" children's programme is Bagpuss. Even though the central character resembles a striped sock pulled over a stomach tumour, the mice from the mouse organ are constantly running around fixing up the junk Emily brings into her useless shop. Those mice are the hardest-working children's characters in showbusiness.

In future, could the DoH please ensure that those who compile these groundbreaking studies actually talk to people who've watched the programmes with their children a few zillion times. We're known as parents and we're quite often available for interview.

Brad, you really are the pits for blaming Jen

Brad Pitt has slated his marriage to Jennifer Aniston, saying that having children with Angelina Jolie was the best decision he ever made and, previously, he'd been pretending his marriage to Aniston was "something it wasn't", while lying around on the sofa, feeling depressed, smoking joints.

Doubtless, many men would enjoy making children with the beauteous Angelina. Moreover, watching Aniston films such as Marley & Me can feel like you've got locked-in syndrome of the eyeballs. However, Pitt appears to be suffering from post-relationship revisionism. More common than people think, it basically amounts to blaming everything that was ever wrong on their significant other at the time. So, if Pitt was a sulking, dope-smoking loser during his marriage to Aniston, that wasn't his fault, it was hers – yeah, damn her and her wifely love and loyalty!

Perhaps Pitt is sour because it's finally dawning on him that the Brad-Jen-Ange triumvirate still garners more interest than his acting ever did. Either way, his post-marital rudeness ill becomes him. Aniston should stop churning out chick flicks and suggest The Great Escape for her next project.