Nice to see that the IRA have found work at what they're best at, as Iran continues its tradition of slaughtering the previous regime.
Apparently, Bush was in bed at 9pm, and missed it. 9pm?
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Saddam Meets the Provos
Nice to see that the IRA have found work at what they're best at, as Iran continues its tradition of slaughtering the previous regime.
Apparently, Bush was in bed at 9pm, and missed it. 9pm?
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Blair Reputation in Tatters: Official
Well, any credibility that Blair had as a consumate politician, a reformer and an election winner appears to have been shot through by now.
The abandonment of the BAE fraud enquiry (and the concomitant sale of large arms to Saudi Arabia) won't go away lightly, hoorah! Ethical Foreign Policy? Let's stop pretending about that one!
And then, the pipe-smoking, leather elbow patched chaps at Chatham House have been examining the effacacity of Blair's post 9/11 pro-Bush foreign policy, and declared it a DISASTER.
Yes, we all KNOW that already; but coming from the people that Blair usually relies on, that must at least bang the nails into the coffin of Blair's political reputation. Never mind, another six months, and then he can dedicate his time to all those lucrative lecture tours of America that he's clearly looking forward to.
Blair reputation in tatters: official
BAE fraud enquiry
The abandonment of the BAE fraud enquiry (and the concomitant sale of large arms to Saudi Arabia) won't go away lightly, hoorah! Ethical Foreign Policy? Let's stop pretending about that one!
And then, the pipe-smoking, leather elbow patched chaps at Chatham House have been examining the effacacity of Blair's post 9/11 pro-Bush foreign policy, and declared it a DISASTER.
Yes, we all KNOW that already; but coming from the people that Blair usually relies on, that must at least bang the nails into the coffin of Blair's political reputation. Never mind, another six months, and then he can dedicate his time to all those lucrative lecture tours of America that he's clearly looking forward to.
Blair reputation in tatters: official
BAE fraud enquiry
Monday, December 18, 2006
Last Week's News
OK, I'm behind.
I will find time to comment on the governments' moral failure to insist on the continuation of the BAE fraud inquiry, considering it to be acceptable to allow corruption, rather than to lose business to the Saudis. (Read more here)
Meantime, I'd like to apologise for not reacting quick enough to the BBC 'newsticker' headline that read:
Gastro Enteritis Forces Duchess of Cornwall to Cancel Pudding Factory Visit.
Now that is a headline!
I will find time to comment on the governments' moral failure to insist on the continuation of the BAE fraud inquiry, considering it to be acceptable to allow corruption, rather than to lose business to the Saudis. (Read more here)
Meantime, I'd like to apologise for not reacting quick enough to the BBC 'newsticker' headline that read:
Gastro Enteritis Forces Duchess of Cornwall to Cancel Pudding Factory Visit.
Now that is a headline!
Saturday, December 16, 2006
If You're Drinking This Christmas
Try avoid sleeping it off on the railway.
I think the best bit of this story is the drunk's father attempting to blame his son's predicament on the railway company.
I think the best bit of this story is the drunk's father attempting to blame his son's predicament on the railway company.
Friday, December 15, 2006
No Service Charge, Thankyou!
We've decided to start refusing to pay the "service charge" at restaurants, (which is basically a surcharge, with fees going to the owners) with the intention of leaving cash tips for the waiters.
Tonight, the cashier came back to our table THREE TIMES to ask why we weren't paying the full bill.
Be nice to waiters, don't pay the service charge!
Tonight, the cashier came back to our table THREE TIMES to ask why we weren't paying the full bill.
Be nice to waiters, don't pay the service charge!
Monday, December 11, 2006
Walk On The Wild Side
I don't know what's going on south of the river, but it appears that the Bishop of Southwark has elected to do a Kevin Spacey and retract his mugging claim in the light of events.
Spacey got into a spot of bother in Archbishop's Park in Lambeth, land belonging to the Archibishop of Cantebury (who was not involved, however). The Bishop of Southwork appears to have come a cropper following a night 'round at the Irish Embassy.
The BBC has this account of the Drunken Bishop's escapade in the back of a car.
Meanwhile, the Guardian reports that the Bishop appeared without his Mitre at his Sunday Service, claiming the head injury prevented his wearing the headgear.
So what did the Bishop do with, or — heaven forbid — IN his mitre that rendered it unwearable?
Where is The News of the World when you need it?
Spacey got into a spot of bother in Archbishop's Park in Lambeth, land belonging to the Archibishop of Cantebury (who was not involved, however). The Bishop of Southwork appears to have come a cropper following a night 'round at the Irish Embassy.
The BBC has this account of the Drunken Bishop's escapade in the back of a car.
Meanwhile, the Guardian reports that the Bishop appeared without his Mitre at his Sunday Service, claiming the head injury prevented his wearing the headgear.
So what did the Bishop do with, or — heaven forbid — IN his mitre that rendered it unwearable?
Where is The News of the World when you need it?
Beachcomber Returns
Ever since I first saw the internet, I knew it could facilitate a return to the brief, inspired eccentricity that flourished in British newspapers in the early 20th Century, as the titles would find a small space for a number of lone voices, the best of which was JB Morton, aka Beachcomber, who wrote for the Express for about two centuries until the 1950s.
Those that don't know of his work, his flights of fancy were the obvious inspiration for The Goons, The Beatles, The Bonzos, Monty Python, and everyone in between. He was very much the architect of the comic template for all those mad colonels, posh twits and social faux pas that became the staple of British comedy in the post war years, and in particular the concept of the "vexed of Tonbridge Wells" letters.
Imagine my joy therefore to discover this link from the Surrey Comet with thanks to Monk who unearthed it for our delight.
Read the correspondence, there's barely a duff note, and I suspect that it's the work of one hand, and that of a modern Morton.
Meanwhile on the topic of pigeon extermination, I draw you attention to my own previous pigeon post.
Those that don't know of his work, his flights of fancy were the obvious inspiration for The Goons, The Beatles, The Bonzos, Monty Python, and everyone in between. He was very much the architect of the comic template for all those mad colonels, posh twits and social faux pas that became the staple of British comedy in the post war years, and in particular the concept of the "vexed of Tonbridge Wells" letters.
Imagine my joy therefore to discover this link from the Surrey Comet with thanks to Monk who unearthed it for our delight.
Read the correspondence, there's barely a duff note, and I suspect that it's the work of one hand, and that of a modern Morton.
Meanwhile on the topic of pigeon extermination, I draw you attention to my own previous pigeon post.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Pinochet: One Down, One More To Go
As Margaret Thatcher shamelessly expresses great regret at the death of her old friend, the pyschopathic dictator Pinochet, the rest of the humane world can only hope that the old witch will take the hint and fuck off out of it as well.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Tiverton 1 McDonalds 0
Sadly, McDonalds, like cancer, will probably be always with us, yet in the west of England, the people of Tiverton have exercised consumer choice and opted for the edible alternative, local produce, enough to see off the American tyrant.
Read about it in the Guardian
Read about it in the Guardian
"Methane Mary" Grounds Jet
Yes, the war on terror took an unsavoury turn when a farting passenger gassed a flight out of the sky over America.
Apparently there was a blue flash, and everybody began screaming.
Look out for a new round of questioning at the check-in counter.
"What did you have for dinner last night?"
"Have you been for a No. 2 this morning?"
"Have you recently consumed large amounts of lager?"
"Was that you?"
Apparently there was a blue flash, and everybody began screaming.
Look out for a new round of questioning at the check-in counter.
"What did you have for dinner last night?"
"Have you been for a No. 2 this morning?"
"Have you recently consumed large amounts of lager?"
"Was that you?"
Monday, December 04, 2006
Stop This High Street Filth!
On passing Marks & Spencer tonight, I decided it was time to pop inside and stock up on socks and undies, and followed the signs to Menswear.
Suddenly, and without warning, I found myself in the Ladies Lingerie section, amongst the lurid scanty panties and uplift brassieres!
A quick glance around told me that my presence had gone undetected, so I elected to do what any sensible man would do in the circumstances and turned around immediately, volte face, with the intention of retracing my steps. However, having completed my tergiversation, I was SHOCKED to discover the men's underwear section directly behind me!
Yes, that's right; the men's underwear section was ADJACENT to the ladies' underwear section. Men's and Ladies "you know whats" SHARING THE SAME SPACE! Y-Fronts & Knickers were practically mingling with each other!
For the love of decency, are there no morals anymore? What were they thinking of? This is the permissive society incarnate! Is it any wonder that our society has descend into the cess-pit of debauchery and loose living that it is.
In Marks & Spencer of all people!
Its about time the Daily Mail did a double-page spread on this one.
As you can imagine, unwilling to patronise these pornographers, I made my excuses and left; I have my self-respect to think of you know.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Man Fights Moose With Slipper
According to Norwegian newspaper Aftenposten:
"A Norwegian who thought he'd be spending a quiet weekend at his cabin near Kongsvinger ended up battling an angry moose with the first weapon that came to mind - his slipper"
Read more here
Frankly, I suspect Shiba the dog may not be quite the innocent party portrayed.
Meanwhile, check out the "Related Stories". It seems that Norway has a moose epidemic that they're keeping quiet about.
"A Norwegian who thought he'd be spending a quiet weekend at his cabin near Kongsvinger ended up battling an angry moose with the first weapon that came to mind - his slipper"
Read more here
Frankly, I suspect Shiba the dog may not be quite the innocent party portrayed.
Meanwhile, check out the "Related Stories". It seems that Norway has a moose epidemic that they're keeping quiet about.
Joe Queenan: American Patriot
Having seen Borat this weekend I have to say I was impressed. I found some of it unnecessarily cruel, most of it painful to watch, but in all very funny.
Admittedly, taking Americans for a ride is like shooting fish in a barrel, but somebody has to do it. Think of it as getting even in a benign way, as it's surely better to address the inbalance of American power in the world by laughing at them, rather than resorting to mindless terrorism. (In Baron Cohen's case, it's certainly proven to be more lucrative).
This is not appreciated by American "film critic" Joe Queenan in the Guardian, who went all Uncle Sam on behalf of his compatriots, but quite incorrectly, as I will attempt to explain.
Firstly, British humour can be vindictive and cruel. It's part of our sang froid.
Queenan makes the mistake by suggesting Baron Cohen's humour is somehow inspired by a distaste for America, ignoring the fact that it was sharpened on British targets for the previous fifteen years. We've seen all these jokes before.
Yes, it's called taking the piss, and it's what we do, and it's something that's developed into something dark in recent years as Cohen and his contemporaries— Chris Morris, Dom Jolly, Paul Whitehouse, Charlie Higson, and ultimately Cohen's replacement on the Eleven O'Clock Show, Ricky Gervais—have explored as they question the boundaries of humour, blur the lines into tragedy.
I'm sorry Joe, we're not all Michael Palin, who you probably despise as well.
Most troubling is Queenan's patriotic kneejerk reference to the war:
"Baron Cohen is just another English public school boy who hates Americans. It is fine to hate Americans; it is one of Europe's oldest traditions. But the men who flew the bombing raids over Berlin and the men who died at Omaha Beach and the women who built the Flying Fortresses and Sherman tanks that helped defeat Hitler are the very same people that Baron Cohen pisses all over in Borat. A lot of folks named Cohen would not even be here making anti-American movies if it were not for the hayseeds he despises."
American won the war? Tell that to the Red Army. (And by the way, those Americans saw their GDP double as a result of the war: everybody else had rationing: don't ask us to thank you Joe).
Furthermore:
a) Is it really anti-American to make fun of Americans? Isn't the Dubya's line?
b) "Hayseeds" ? No Joe: VOTERS
c) Anti-Americanism a public school thing? Try the working classes: they fucking hate you.
d) Omaha Beach? The British tend to remember Anzio, where the Americans changed their minds and stayed out at sea, stranding the British vanguard on the shore where they were slaughtered unnecessarily. America's status as an untrustworthy ally is as much a staple of Britain's war myth as the cliche of Italian tanks reverse gears. (So much so in fact, that this distrust remains amongst British troops in Iraq (see the end of this report)
Does Queenan really defend those misogynistic fraternity wankers that Cohen meets, those rich kids who will one day run America? Is it not true that your President STILL behaves like that?
I'm sorry, but "Queen Anne" is so far off the mark on this one, that his patriotic little tantrum pisses away any credibility that he had, with his paper-thin sensitivity undermining his pretence of the being the hard-boiled world-weary New Yorker he would so love to be. And I bet he thinks he's Irish!
Cohen IS lazy, and America is an easy target, but don't try to use this film as an opportunity to knock the British, as your prejudices are clearly founded upon your own misunderstanding of what British humour is about.
It's non-aspirational character-based vindictiveness. It's about vulnerability and unfulfilment, whether that's David Brent in the Office or some sad real person who thinks they can get ahead by hiring a "humor coach". Cruel? Yes. Funny? Of course. British comedy is about watching the pompous spiking their own balloon. But I don't have to explain Pomposity to Queenan!
Fly your flag up your ass Joe. We'd probably laugh.
Admittedly, taking Americans for a ride is like shooting fish in a barrel, but somebody has to do it. Think of it as getting even in a benign way, as it's surely better to address the inbalance of American power in the world by laughing at them, rather than resorting to mindless terrorism. (In Baron Cohen's case, it's certainly proven to be more lucrative).
This is not appreciated by American "film critic" Joe Queenan in the Guardian, who went all Uncle Sam on behalf of his compatriots, but quite incorrectly, as I will attempt to explain.
Firstly, British humour can be vindictive and cruel. It's part of our sang froid.
Queenan makes the mistake by suggesting Baron Cohen's humour is somehow inspired by a distaste for America, ignoring the fact that it was sharpened on British targets for the previous fifteen years. We've seen all these jokes before.
Yes, it's called taking the piss, and it's what we do, and it's something that's developed into something dark in recent years as Cohen and his contemporaries— Chris Morris, Dom Jolly, Paul Whitehouse, Charlie Higson, and ultimately Cohen's replacement on the Eleven O'Clock Show, Ricky Gervais—have explored as they question the boundaries of humour, blur the lines into tragedy.
I'm sorry Joe, we're not all Michael Palin, who you probably despise as well.
Most troubling is Queenan's patriotic kneejerk reference to the war:
"Baron Cohen is just another English public school boy who hates Americans. It is fine to hate Americans; it is one of Europe's oldest traditions. But the men who flew the bombing raids over Berlin and the men who died at Omaha Beach and the women who built the Flying Fortresses and Sherman tanks that helped defeat Hitler are the very same people that Baron Cohen pisses all over in Borat. A lot of folks named Cohen would not even be here making anti-American movies if it were not for the hayseeds he despises."
American won the war? Tell that to the Red Army. (And by the way, those Americans saw their GDP double as a result of the war: everybody else had rationing: don't ask us to thank you Joe).
Furthermore:
a) Is it really anti-American to make fun of Americans? Isn't the Dubya's line?
b) "Hayseeds" ? No Joe: VOTERS
c) Anti-Americanism a public school thing? Try the working classes: they fucking hate you.
d) Omaha Beach? The British tend to remember Anzio, where the Americans changed their minds and stayed out at sea, stranding the British vanguard on the shore where they were slaughtered unnecessarily. America's status as an untrustworthy ally is as much a staple of Britain's war myth as the cliche of Italian tanks reverse gears. (So much so in fact, that this distrust remains amongst British troops in Iraq (see the end of this report)
Does Queenan really defend those misogynistic fraternity wankers that Cohen meets, those rich kids who will one day run America? Is it not true that your President STILL behaves like that?
I'm sorry, but "Queen Anne" is so far off the mark on this one, that his patriotic little tantrum pisses away any credibility that he had, with his paper-thin sensitivity undermining his pretence of the being the hard-boiled world-weary New Yorker he would so love to be. And I bet he thinks he's Irish!
Cohen IS lazy, and America is an easy target, but don't try to use this film as an opportunity to knock the British, as your prejudices are clearly founded upon your own misunderstanding of what British humour is about.
It's non-aspirational character-based vindictiveness. It's about vulnerability and unfulfilment, whether that's David Brent in the Office or some sad real person who thinks they can get ahead by hiring a "humor coach". Cruel? Yes. Funny? Of course. British comedy is about watching the pompous spiking their own balloon. But I don't have to explain Pomposity to Queenan!
Fly your flag up your ass Joe. We'd probably laugh.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
The Guardian Balks at "Nigger", But Repents!
For the past twenty years or so, The Guardian has steadfastly resisted the asteriskisation of the words Fuck and Cunt, and have always spelt them in full whenever citing the use of those words, being the only British newspaper to do so.
It is therefore surprising and disappointing that today's article in G2 by Joseph Harker covering the Michael Richards' outburst chose to bottle it, and therefore placed the asterisks where igger should be.
No doubt the editor believed that the otherwise steely readership would be taking a fit of the vapours should they see the word nigger spelt in full.
However: on the web-site Dan Glaister's article puts the igger back in.
Were there harsh words, one wonders?
It is therefore surprising and disappointing that today's article in G2 by Joseph Harker covering the Michael Richards' outburst chose to bottle it, and therefore placed the asterisks where igger should be.
No doubt the editor believed that the otherwise steely readership would be taking a fit of the vapours should they see the word nigger spelt in full.
However: on the web-site Dan Glaister's article puts the igger back in.
Were there harsh words, one wonders?
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
The Mohicans: the Monty Python Years
Well, her majesty's been out respecting the ancestors, helped by the remarkably named Bruce "Two Dogs" Bozsum.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Michael Richards Uses the N Bomb: Collateral Damage in Hollywood
Just when Mel Gibson's people thought they could plan ahead, "Seinfeld's Kramer" goes and opens the whole can of worms again, with Mel the jew-bater's name featuring in all the coverage to "add context".
And remember: Castle Rock still have to shift those Seinfeld on DVD units, just before Festivus and all.
I have a sneaky suspicion that the recipient of the "N" word lambasting may well be traumatised by the whole episode and therefore preparing to sue.
And remember: Castle Rock still have to shift those Seinfeld on DVD units, just before Festivus and all.
I have a sneaky suspicion that the recipient of the "N" word lambasting may well be traumatised by the whole episode and therefore preparing to sue.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Xmas Too Early? Try Bulgaria!
As the western Christmas season get under weigh, there's good news for those in despair of the "season creep" that is the yuletide consumer wave, as it threatens to overlap Halloween and heads for late summer: the Bulgarians have commenced their Advent Fasting Programme.
Read about it HERE
Some even forego a bit of slap n tickle in preparation for the Christ Mass.
I bet they don't have to call it "Happy Festival" either.
Read about it HERE
Some even forego a bit of slap n tickle in preparation for the Christ Mass.
I bet they don't have to call it "Happy Festival" either.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Greek Traditions Update: US Embassy Rioting
Apparently, 17th November is the date that Greek students march against the US Embassy in Athens.
Obviously, it degenerates into "unorthodox wrestling"
Obviously, it degenerates into "unorthodox wrestling"
Beatles Brand Gets Update
So we have a "new" Beatles album.
This is the Stars on 45 debacle all over again!
This is the Stars on 45 debacle all over again!
Friday, November 17, 2006
Why The Guardian is Crap
I suppose I can gauge how old I am by the number of years that I have been bemoaning how the Guardian has gone downhill since it stop being just earnest and chose to be trendy, allowing naive, ill-informed and ill-read nobodies to write twaddle without fact-checking or even questioned by an editor.
Today's niggle—and it is just that and of no more import—is the following comment about U2's court victory in claiming their detritus back from a profiteering former flunkey. The suggestion is made that the tea-cups featured may represent "a revelation that may undermine U2's image as hard living rock stars"
Hard Living? The Milksops of Pop? Does ANYONE think of U2 as anymore than a bunch of sanctimonious parsons, or have I been reading the wrong magazines.
Craig David as a gangster rapper anyone?
Today's niggle—and it is just that and of no more import—is the following comment about U2's court victory in claiming their detritus back from a profiteering former flunkey. The suggestion is made that the tea-cups featured may represent "a revelation that may undermine U2's image as hard living rock stars"
Hard Living? The Milksops of Pop? Does ANYONE think of U2 as anymore than a bunch of sanctimonious parsons, or have I been reading the wrong magazines.
Craig David as a gangster rapper anyone?
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Scandal In Soft Toy Department
I happened across this on a Spanish Spanking Blog (I just stumbled across it OK; don't judge me!), but my espanol isn't good enough to establish whether Manola has some kind of "reenactment" fetish.
Let's hope he put them all in for a spin on the wool cycle afterwards.
Do The Right Thing
And log into Trev's site (to the right) and congratulate him on twenty years in London.
Well Done That Man
Well Done That Man
Friday, November 10, 2006
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Ain't Nothing Like A Dame
I love the fact that the Head of our intelligence service is called Dame Eliza Manningham Buller.
It's like having Lady Penelope back.
I can imagine her preparing for a dinner party. "Let's see; Canapes; Foie Gras; Petit Pois; Gratin Dauphinoise; Glock, extra rounds, all seems OK here. That cheese wire may come in handy."
It's like having Lady Penelope back.
I can imagine her preparing for a dinner party. "Let's see; Canapes; Foie Gras; Petit Pois; Gratin Dauphinoise; Glock, extra rounds, all seems OK here. That cheese wire may come in handy."
The Usual "Firework In Anus" Story
I'm disappointed that the BBC, of all people, have stooped to cover this story:
' Backside firework prank backfires'
Just the sort of thing that gains popularity on the internet.
' Backside firework prank backfires'
Just the sort of thing that gains popularity on the internet.
Evening Standard Billboard: Free Knorr Stir Fry Packet
It's heartening to see that the Standard is prepared to combat injustice in the world.
Although I know nothing about Mr Free Knorr Stir Fry Packet's case, or even where he's been brutally incarcerated, I'd like the Evening Standard know that I'm quite prepared to offer my services as a petition organiser who will not rest until Mr Free Knorr Stir Fry Packet takes that long walk to freedom.
If only I had Jerry Dammer's number.
Although I know nothing about Mr Free Knorr Stir Fry Packet's case, or even where he's been brutally incarcerated, I'd like the Evening Standard know that I'm quite prepared to offer my services as a petition organiser who will not rest until Mr Free Knorr Stir Fry Packet takes that long walk to freedom.
If only I had Jerry Dammer's number.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Saddam's Friend Stands Down
I'm sure Rumsfeld's cause was not helped by all those "Life of Saddam" profiles featured on all the news features which followed the the Baghdad Gopher's death sentence. They ALL included footage from the 1980s of the eager Rumsfeld shaking hands with Saddam, desperate to gain arms sales from the dictator.
Not the kind of publicity one would want in election week.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Al Qaeda© Accused Outstrips Actual Murderer
I think it's about time Al Qaeda© start to issue ID cards, because I'm finding it difficult to believe that they actually exist.
Is Dhiren Barot REALLY an 'Al Qaeda© operative'? Is he REALLY "a professional terrorist"? That's some CV!
Well, according to the authorities, who handed out a 40 year sentence, this over-ambitious would-be's conspiracy is considered to be a greater crime than that of a real killer, who only got 29 years.
Obviously Borat, sorry, BAROT (he'll have to get used to that in prison), is a shitty little man, who, given the opportunity, would invoke harm, but let's not buy into the scale of this fantasy.
Anyway, make your own mind up, here's the evidence as presented by the MET.
Is Dhiren Barot REALLY an 'Al Qaeda© operative'? Is he REALLY "a professional terrorist"? That's some CV!
Well, according to the authorities, who handed out a 40 year sentence, this over-ambitious would-be's conspiracy is considered to be a greater crime than that of a real killer, who only got 29 years.
Obviously Borat, sorry, BAROT (he'll have to get used to that in prison), is a shitty little man, who, given the opportunity, would invoke harm, but let's not buy into the scale of this fantasy.
Anyway, make your own mind up, here's the evidence as presented by the MET.
A Photograph That I Like
Picture
by
Goran
Tomasevic
Reuters.
An Israeli policeman seen through the shattered window of a bus hit by a hizbullah rocket.
I really liked this image in today's Guardian; although this web-site version is unfortunately cropped and spoils it's impact.
No big theorising on WHY it's a great photo, it just is.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Holy Cow! Scientist Just Has To Play God.
According the BBC, "UK scientists have applied for permission to create embryos by fusing human DNA with cow eggs."
COW EGGS?
Hey, even I know cows don't lay eggs; I think these guys may be working in the wrong field.
Or helping themselves to the proscribed chemicals cabinet.
COW EGGS?
Hey, even I know cows don't lay eggs; I think these guys may be working in the wrong field.
Or helping themselves to the proscribed chemicals cabinet.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Bang! Bang! You're Under Arrest!
So the trigger happy copper who blasted the innocent Jean Charles de Menezes on London's tube has killed again.
In an exclusive interview, our modern day Wyatt Earp spoke briefly to the Shoebox. "I don't know what it is" he told us "but when I see an unarmed man, a red mist descends and I just start blasting away like a crazy feller! I'm not sure if it's the noise, or the smell of cordite I like the most"
Our sources inside the Metropolitan Police inform us that PC "Six-Gun" should have been decommissioned following the tube incident, but no-one wants to be the one to tell him.
"He's ARMED for fuck's sake" confided a colleague.
In an exclusive interview, our modern day Wyatt Earp spoke briefly to the Shoebox. "I don't know what it is" he told us "but when I see an unarmed man, a red mist descends and I just start blasting away like a crazy feller! I'm not sure if it's the noise, or the smell of cordite I like the most"
Our sources inside the Metropolitan Police inform us that PC "Six-Gun" should have been decommissioned following the tube incident, but no-one wants to be the one to tell him.
"He's ARMED for fuck's sake" confided a colleague.
Britain Tops Again: Youth Crime
In a week when the behaviour of Britain's youth gets declared 'the worst in Europe', the focus turns upon the Anti Social Behaviour Orders (or ASBO) handed out by the authorities to miscreants, and how some youth consider it to be 'a badge of honour' .
I think it's an acronym issue. ASBO has caught on as it has the right amount impact, with its long opening vowel, followed by the aspirant consonant, closing with the impact of that B at the end.
a) it's one of the few words our street urchins can pronounce, (most of whom struggle with their own names: what with the spelling their mothers have thought up)
and
b) it sounds a bit rough, in a council, down-market sort of way.
Now would a ne'erdwell be so keen to boast if he/she had been given a "WANKER", "TWAT", or "ARSE"? (I'll leave you to spend time thinking up some clever and amusing words to fit the initials).
Or "BOOBIE".
I doubt it. Especially if the had to wear a big badge (I suggest 5" diameter, bright dayglo yellow) with "Boobie" on it.
Hmmm, I quite like this law enforcement game.
I think it's an acronym issue. ASBO has caught on as it has the right amount impact, with its long opening vowel, followed by the aspirant consonant, closing with the impact of that B at the end.
a) it's one of the few words our street urchins can pronounce, (most of whom struggle with their own names: what with the spelling their mothers have thought up)
and
b) it sounds a bit rough, in a council, down-market sort of way.
Now would a ne'erdwell be so keen to boast if he/she had been given a "WANKER", "TWAT", or "ARSE"? (I'll leave you to spend time thinking up some clever and amusing words to fit the initials).
Or "BOOBIE".
I doubt it. Especially if the had to wear a big badge (I suggest 5" diameter, bright dayglo yellow) with "Boobie" on it.
Hmmm, I quite like this law enforcement game.
Monday, October 30, 2006
The Autumnal Menopause Incident
Work has been a bit frustrating recently, whilst at home the constant decoration has been really getting me down as I come to terms with what seems like a touch of mid-life crisis.
Hence I found myself in Russell Square at lunchtime, enjoying the last of the real sunshine for the year, just walking, contemplating upon my life, when I chanced upon a falling leaf from a London Plane, which fluttered past me, the first fall of the autumn.
As the leaf gently descended, lilting upon a zephyr down to the lush grass, I paused, and taking in its rich colour I realised that this simple event, in all its autumnal significance, was presenting to me a poignant allegory for my time of life in some kind of poetic unveiling.
Then, as I gazed up, I was passed by this foxy young student chick in a skimpy, tight top, with her excellent cleavage presented for inspection, a sight that instantly erased every rational thought in my aging head.
What's my name again?
Ding Dong!
Hence I found myself in Russell Square at lunchtime, enjoying the last of the real sunshine for the year, just walking, contemplating upon my life, when I chanced upon a falling leaf from a London Plane, which fluttered past me, the first fall of the autumn.
As the leaf gently descended, lilting upon a zephyr down to the lush grass, I paused, and taking in its rich colour I realised that this simple event, in all its autumnal significance, was presenting to me a poignant allegory for my time of life in some kind of poetic unveiling.
Then, as I gazed up, I was passed by this foxy young student chick in a skimpy, tight top, with her excellent cleavage presented for inspection, a sight that instantly erased every rational thought in my aging head.
What's my name again?
Ding Dong!
Property Prices Resist Climate Change
Yes, on the day that Sir Nicholas Stern published his audit on the economic impact of climate change—with the conclusion that any future government will have to consider implementing levies based upon the environmental impact of goods & services, including petrol and air travel—The Times chose to lead with a spread on property prices, whilst cheerfully offering their readers an opportunity for cheap flights.
The Tory press, taking the "LALALALALALALA! Can't Hear You!" approach to climate change are taking the easy route by screaming "Taxes; the Labour party are going to tax you for the environment, and will take away your four wheel drive, putting your children at risk!"
One informed commentator, ask to put affairs in perspective, proposed that the economic impact of climate change could destabilise the world in comparison with the disruption on the scale of the world wars of the last century.
May I remind you that back then it was the Tory press (and the Daily Mail in particular) that sided with Hitler in the 1930s.
The Tory press, taking the "LALALALALALALA! Can't Hear You!" approach to climate change are taking the easy route by screaming "Taxes; the Labour party are going to tax you for the environment, and will take away your four wheel drive, putting your children at risk!"
One informed commentator, ask to put affairs in perspective, proposed that the economic impact of climate change could destabilise the world in comparison with the disruption on the scale of the world wars of the last century.
May I remind you that back then it was the Tory press (and the Daily Mail in particular) that sided with Hitler in the 1930s.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Zombie Drugs Tried On Troops
According to to the header in this morning's Metro, the London freesheet.
However, I was reading this over someone's shoulder on the tube, and failed to read the small print, so I can't tell you if the Zombie drugs were actually tried on DEAD soldiers.
Oh yeh, wait until the insurgents have to face the Haitian Brigade! That's what I call a corps!
However, I was reading this over someone's shoulder on the tube, and failed to read the small print, so I can't tell you if the Zombie drugs were actually tried on DEAD soldiers.
Oh yeh, wait until the insurgents have to face the Haitian Brigade! That's what I call a corps!
Bend Your Knees Ma'am!
So the Queen was unable to attend her visit to the Emirates Stadium (Arsenal's humiliatingly named new ground) due to "a back problem".
What could "the Queen" possibly have done that would cause her to get a back problem?
Has she ever lifted ANYTHING in her life?
One suspects that the thought of meeting a bunch of French oiks was too much for the old girl, and who can blame her?
What could "the Queen" possibly have done that would cause her to get a back problem?
Has she ever lifted ANYTHING in her life?
One suspects that the thought of meeting a bunch of French oiks was too much for the old girl, and who can blame her?
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
Of Cabbages & Queens
I don't want to get a reputation for being some kind of court correspondent, what with two royal comments in a row, but I've had my attention drawn to this. It's a portrait of Queen Elizabeth of the Britons, now at the Tate Modern, by American cartoonist George Condo, which the press are calling 'the cabbage patch queen'. This appellation is somewhat erroneous in my book, as anyone can spot that the resemblance is actually that of Captain Pugwash!
(Place gratuitous innuendo here).
Twenty years ago, when the Bank of England updated our five pound note with a controversial new portrait of a chubbier queen than that previously seen, my pal Tim commented that it looked like "the queen, but someone's stuck a cabbage to the front of her face!"
There has to be SOMETHING going on.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Hussars Survive Royal Visit
Apparently, the Duke of Edinburgh gas has paid a "surprise visit" to the cavalry in Basra today.
I understand that his request to burst out of a cake was refused, due to the state of tension in the region which has left some of the troops either shell-shocked, trigger-happy, or both.
It seems that senior officers were keen to avoid a repeat of the "Belfast Incident" of 1978, when, at the height of the troubles, the Duke—a keen amateur illusionist—arrived unexpectedly in the middle of the bomb disposal unit's Christmas dinner via a trapdoor, with a simultaneous "Flash & Bang" whilst shouting Ahah! with arms outstretched, holding his cape aloft. As the smoke cleared, the impact of the inappropriate gesture became only too apparent.
Fortunately for the Hussars today, the Queen's consort was introduced slowly and in full view, and the whole affair passed without incident.
I understand that his request to burst out of a cake was refused, due to the state of tension in the region which has left some of the troops either shell-shocked, trigger-happy, or both.
It seems that senior officers were keen to avoid a repeat of the "Belfast Incident" of 1978, when, at the height of the troubles, the Duke—a keen amateur illusionist—arrived unexpectedly in the middle of the bomb disposal unit's Christmas dinner via a trapdoor, with a simultaneous "Flash & Bang" whilst shouting Ahah! with arms outstretched, holding his cape aloft. As the smoke cleared, the impact of the inappropriate gesture became only too apparent.
Fortunately for the Hussars today, the Queen's consort was introduced slowly and in full view, and the whole affair passed without incident.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
British Intelligence Hedges Bets on Al Qaeda©
So our seniors continue to perpetuate the notion of a monolithic, centralised, Hollywood-style, terror network.
Obviously, to our sound-byte media, the Al Qaeda© concept helps to save time, avoiding the complications of explain the myriad versions of islamic fundamentalism.
This helps them dodge the possibility that the little pricks who committed the atrocities on 7th July 2005, may have been a bunch of home grown losers who, although inspired by world events, chose to revenge their own inability to fit in by gaining the (posthumous) approval of the Al Qaeda© types they'd been led to believe in.
What concerns me about this nonsense is that a British government and its civil service could allow itself to be so heavily influenced by the dictates of Washington; and particularly a Washington currently led by half-wits.
Yes of course there's going to be terror, and most of it in the coming years will come from islamic fundamentalists, some of whom will be British, and possibly inspired by the great terror scare of the early Twenty First Century (as historians will record it.) But will it be Al Qaeda©? No, they're only saying that because that's what Washington wants them to say.
Remember, for every Bin Laden would-be, there's an equally ambitious police chief eager to make his name too.
Obviously, to our sound-byte media, the Al Qaeda© concept helps to save time, avoiding the complications of explain the myriad versions of islamic fundamentalism.
This helps them dodge the possibility that the little pricks who committed the atrocities on 7th July 2005, may have been a bunch of home grown losers who, although inspired by world events, chose to revenge their own inability to fit in by gaining the (posthumous) approval of the Al Qaeda© types they'd been led to believe in.
What concerns me about this nonsense is that a British government and its civil service could allow itself to be so heavily influenced by the dictates of Washington; and particularly a Washington currently led by half-wits.
Yes of course there's going to be terror, and most of it in the coming years will come from islamic fundamentalists, some of whom will be British, and possibly inspired by the great terror scare of the early Twenty First Century (as historians will record it.) But will it be Al Qaeda©? No, they're only saying that because that's what Washington wants them to say.
Remember, for every Bin Laden would-be, there's an equally ambitious police chief eager to make his name too.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Daily Mail: "McCartney Hit Me"
Surely the newsworthy line would be "McCartney hit me WITH MY OWN LEG!"
Have these people no imagination?
Have these people no imagination?
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Journalist is Enviro-idiot shock
Check out this wanker.
Apparently it's beyond him to seperate his waste, and it's society's fault.
Apparently it's beyond him to seperate his waste, and it's society's fault.
Animal Round Up
So on the day scientists call for further measures to curb Cod trawling (fish update) Iceland decides to stick two fingers up to decency and sets off to start killing whales.
Meanwhile the British response is to open a statue to a dog with a nice line in hats.
Meanwhile the British response is to open a statue to a dog with a nice line in hats.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Friday, October 13, 2006
Iraq: Not Over
So according to the coroner, US troops slaughtered a British TV reporter and his crew, at the start of the war. Apparently his crime was to be independent, unlike the drip-fed embedded journos.
Even the head of the British Army has had enough: Troops Out!, although I suspect his choice to go public is more about being a Tory undermining a Labour government (he spoke to the Daily Mail), than being a man of the people.
Even the head of the British Army has had enough: Troops Out!, although I suspect his choice to go public is more about being a Tory undermining a Labour government (he spoke to the Daily Mail), than being a man of the people.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Fantasy Terrorist Admits Everything
The forces of righteousness have made another gesture in the propaganda war
So the authorities have given some attention-seeking tit the opportunity to act Dr Evil in the "war on terror"
Apparently, this tosser has admitted to megalomaniacal plans to wreak havoc upon the western world, although the detail is a little thin on how he was to obtain the means by which this havoc was to be effected.
How, for example, was he to obtain the radioactive materials for the "dirty bomb".
Why would he admit to something he couldn't achieve? Why not? If you're going nowhere, a little delusion goes a long way.
I, for example, have admitted to writing a novel for the last 25 years; it doesn't mean I will ever get round to doing so!
Any prat can play the bad guy and gain notoriety the easy way, without killing yourself, or even taking any risks. Now he's a master terrorist. A bit like the nobody in Take The Money And Run, where Woody Allen's loser gets to be public enemy No.1 purely because he keeps getting arrested for being so crap.
By all means, lock him away, we're better off without him cluttering the pavements, but please don't paint this as feasible, as the logistics don't add up.
So the authorities have given some attention-seeking tit the opportunity to act Dr Evil in the "war on terror"
Apparently, this tosser has admitted to megalomaniacal plans to wreak havoc upon the western world, although the detail is a little thin on how he was to obtain the means by which this havoc was to be effected.
How, for example, was he to obtain the radioactive materials for the "dirty bomb".
Why would he admit to something he couldn't achieve? Why not? If you're going nowhere, a little delusion goes a long way.
I, for example, have admitted to writing a novel for the last 25 years; it doesn't mean I will ever get round to doing so!
Any prat can play the bad guy and gain notoriety the easy way, without killing yourself, or even taking any risks. Now he's a master terrorist. A bit like the nobody in Take The Money And Run, where Woody Allen's loser gets to be public enemy No.1 purely because he keeps getting arrested for being so crap.
By all means, lock him away, we're better off without him cluttering the pavements, but please don't paint this as feasible, as the logistics don't add up.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Back On Line
Theatre seen in the last 5 days:
Rock n Roll: good night out.
Moon for the Misbegotten: great work of art; Eve Best is superb. Spacey redeemed.
24hr Plays: curates egg; with two really good efforts (& two stinkers).
The Alchemist: really good romp, Jennings & Russel Beale make brilliant double act.
Rock n Roll: good night out.
Moon for the Misbegotten: great work of art; Eve Best is superb. Spacey redeemed.
24hr Plays: curates egg; with two really good efforts (& two stinkers).
The Alchemist: really good romp, Jennings & Russel Beale make brilliant double act.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Caped Invader
Now I don't think human trafficking is anything to poke fun at, and I'd be the first to condemn the inhumanity of man's inhumanity to manity.
However, it has to be said that news rooms have to be particularly careful with image selection when the picture editor having the day off, as this BBC feature illustrates.
At first glance, I thought he was some kind of low budget super-hero: by day Abdul Malik is a downtrodden victim of the white slave trade, but at night he becomes the Pink Crusader, sworn enemy of Turkish men with moustaches.
(Those Turkish joints are just down the road from here)
Or, ignore the above:
Take Two:
Hey everybody, take a look at this BBC feature!
It must be bad enough being cooped up like that, to have someone play the old inky binocular trick on you is TOO CRUEL!
Maybe he's the Turkish Michael Stipe!
However, it has to be said that news rooms have to be particularly careful with image selection when the picture editor having the day off, as this BBC feature illustrates.
At first glance, I thought he was some kind of low budget super-hero: by day Abdul Malik is a downtrodden victim of the white slave trade, but at night he becomes the Pink Crusader, sworn enemy of Turkish men with moustaches.
(Those Turkish joints are just down the road from here)
Or, ignore the above:
Take Two:
Hey everybody, take a look at this BBC feature!
It must be bad enough being cooped up like that, to have someone play the old inky binocular trick on you is TOO CRUEL!
Maybe he's the Turkish Michael Stipe!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Genetically Modified Crap
On October 20th, the British government will receive the report of the committee looking into GM crops, and the feasibility of "co-existence" with healthier forms of farming.
They're probably going to go along with it, however 'limited' initially, allowing the thin end of the wedge.
However, it is possible to lobby the Department of Environment, Food and Rural Affairs and tell them that you disapprove of this state of affairs.
Write to
GMcoexistence@defra.gsi.gov.uk
You need to say that you are responding to the 'Consultation on proposals for managing the coexistence of GM, conventional and organic crops', and explain your concerns.
Do it, even if just to piss off the multi-nationals.
They're probably going to go along with it, however 'limited' initially, allowing the thin end of the wedge.
However, it is possible to lobby the Department of Environment, Food and Rural Affairs and tell them that you disapprove of this state of affairs.
Write to
GMcoexistence@defra.gsi.gov.uk
You need to say that you are responding to the 'Consultation on proposals for managing the coexistence of GM, conventional and organic crops', and explain your concerns.
Do it, even if just to piss off the multi-nationals.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
America's Most Trusted
So Tom Hanks is America's most trusted celebrity according to Forbes magazine. Who cares? Where is the questionnaire regarding America's most untrustworthy celebrity? That's the result we the people want to see!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I Am Not Underground Arse Pervert
I had no choice but to take a packed tube on my way home tonight, and like my fellow passengers, I just had to grin and bear it in trying to keep my dignity in difficult circumstances.
However, the stupid cow next to me kept bending over to attend to something in her bag, which resulted in her sticking her fat arse into me, then looking around at me with disdain as though I was trying it on!
What was she expecting? Did she think I could evaporate? Anyway, technically it wasn't even ME she was crashing into, as I strategically kept my bag between me and her huge arse to AVOID making contact. Urggh!
My advice: don't bend over on the tube at rush hour if you have a big arse, as NO-ONE wants to make contact with it.
However, the stupid cow next to me kept bending over to attend to something in her bag, which resulted in her sticking her fat arse into me, then looking around at me with disdain as though I was trying it on!
What was she expecting? Did she think I could evaporate? Anyway, technically it wasn't even ME she was crashing into, as I strategically kept my bag between me and her huge arse to AVOID making contact. Urggh!
My advice: don't bend over on the tube at rush hour if you have a big arse, as NO-ONE wants to make contact with it.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Equestrian Drug Busters!
This morning, on awakening, I misheard the news as the BBC were reporting that police had launched raids on the nation's cannabis farmers using twenty forces.
I heard it as "twenty horses", and subsequently conjured up images of the skunk growers of Britain having their precious harvest trampled in this novel, if unorthodox, method of law enforcement.
clipclopclipclopClipClopClipClopCLIPCLOPCLIPCLOP: CRASH!!!TRAMPLE!!!STAMP!!!NEIGH!!HIGHHOSILVER!!!
"Oh Maaan! Me weed's bin totally wasted by them horse cats man!
Fanciful, I know, as anyone who ever been near a horse will know that our hoofed friends would be far more likely to shuffle about eating the illicit crop, before standing around asleep for the next 23 hours.
I wonder if they sent in surveillance sniffer spaniels beforehand? They could have posed as strays, hanging around the bins whilst casing the joint. ("dammit Rover, take that collar off for God's sake, this is undercover work! Quick, they're coming out; Start Scratching!").
I heard it as "twenty horses", and subsequently conjured up images of the skunk growers of Britain having their precious harvest trampled in this novel, if unorthodox, method of law enforcement.
clipclopclipclopClipClopClipClopCLIPCLOPCLIPCLOP: CRASH!!!TRAMPLE!!!STAMP!!!NEIGH!!HIGHHOSILVER!!!
"Oh Maaan! Me weed's bin totally wasted by them horse cats man!
Fanciful, I know, as anyone who ever been near a horse will know that our hoofed friends would be far more likely to shuffle about eating the illicit crop, before standing around asleep for the next 23 hours.
I wonder if they sent in surveillance sniffer spaniels beforehand? They could have posed as strays, hanging around the bins whilst casing the joint. ("dammit Rover, take that collar off for God's sake, this is undercover work! Quick, they're coming out; Start Scratching!").
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Beware: Drumming
Spent the weekend in Liverpool, where the afternoon was marred by the ever-presence of a group of drummers—some sort of Brazilian Tinitus collective—who were maurading around the Albert Dock pounding incesantly for hour on end.
Any crap busker can be forgotten with yards once they're out of earshot, but a drummers are impossible to shake off due to the acoustic menace that they create, with the tedius rhythm penetrating the thickest walls. This qualifies as cruel and inhuman treatment to my mind and should be stopped now.
If Liverpool thinks its going to have visitors when they become the City of Culture in 2008, they're going to have to get this lot out of town.
Anyway, nice to see the guy shuffling past my mum's old home on his way to the shop in his pyjamas. Class.
Any crap busker can be forgotten with yards once they're out of earshot, but a drummers are impossible to shake off due to the acoustic menace that they create, with the tedius rhythm penetrating the thickest walls. This qualifies as cruel and inhuman treatment to my mind and should be stopped now.
If Liverpool thinks its going to have visitors when they become the City of Culture in 2008, they're going to have to get this lot out of town.
Anyway, nice to see the guy shuffling past my mum's old home on his way to the shop in his pyjamas. Class.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Stop This High Street Freak Show NOW!
An Expert Writes
I was in the bookshop by the University today, eruditely checking the latest titles, when I happened to notice the new influx of undergraduates, pert with their slim young limbs, enjoying the prolonged good weather in their scanty summer clothes.
Oh how I envy them, what with all their life ahead of them, full of youthful optimism, making new friends, discovering new places and opening up to new experiences—possibly with a older man they've met in a bookstore—and enjoying the beautiful things in life.
Anyway, I was enjoying this vista of nubility, when my gaze shuddered to a halt at the sight of an obese ginger-haired woman wearing....No, I can't bring myself to describe the scene. Anyway this optical assault was no less than visual pollution to someone gifted with such a discerning eye.
And yet this sideshow exhibit was not alone: you would not BELIEVE some of the people I saw walking about today. Some were even unaccompanied and in full view! I saw one man with a balding head that was too large for his body. Wearing cheap spectacles. Carrying his belongings in a carrier bag.
Now whenever I raise this subject people throw up their hands with opprobrium, and start raving on about human rights, diversity and the right to life, etc, so before you JUMP to conclusions, hear me out!
Obviously, I'm not talking about licensing for ugly/unusual people, don't get me wrong. Well actually, yes I am, but it would be purely consensual.
Basically, a local government officer would interview those put forward and discuss why they had been referred (the office would be equipped with a choice of mirrors, and weighing scales as an aid to this process), and the plugs/weirdos, would be persuaded to do the socially decent thing, and accept a generous set of conditions dictating the hours which they would be recommended to be out. Obviously, there would be no right to appeal, as some may be too stupid to know what's good for them, and we don't want to waste tax-payers' money in the courts.
It's not like they don't know why they've been referred, and most of them, when alone at night, probably pray for someone to do something about it. (Like that werewolf chap who insists on being locked in the room). Take that ginger lard-arse lady for example: what is her appearance in public other than a cry for help?
Is this too much? Let's face it, it's their well-being that I'm thinking of. It can't be easy going through life being pointed-at and making milk go sour, when all they probably want to do is a twelve hour shift at a call centre. And with 24hr shopping there's no reason they can't gather with their own kind overnight, which is probably the way they like it. They're certainly more likely to find their own kind on the tills at that hour anyway.
Obviously, I'm not going to address the issue of sterilisation because that belongs to a whole other debate, but I think it worth putting in the public debate.
Look, life has been cruel enough to these people, who are we to prolong the misery. Write to your MP today, and make them see sense.
If that doesn't work, we'll burn cars, invade the TV studios and declare parliament void until we get our way.
I was in the bookshop by the University today, eruditely checking the latest titles, when I happened to notice the new influx of undergraduates, pert with their slim young limbs, enjoying the prolonged good weather in their scanty summer clothes.
Oh how I envy them, what with all their life ahead of them, full of youthful optimism, making new friends, discovering new places and opening up to new experiences—possibly with a older man they've met in a bookstore—and enjoying the beautiful things in life.
Anyway, I was enjoying this vista of nubility, when my gaze shuddered to a halt at the sight of an obese ginger-haired woman wearing....No, I can't bring myself to describe the scene. Anyway this optical assault was no less than visual pollution to someone gifted with such a discerning eye.
And yet this sideshow exhibit was not alone: you would not BELIEVE some of the people I saw walking about today. Some were even unaccompanied and in full view! I saw one man with a balding head that was too large for his body. Wearing cheap spectacles. Carrying his belongings in a carrier bag.
Now whenever I raise this subject people throw up their hands with opprobrium, and start raving on about human rights, diversity and the right to life, etc, so before you JUMP to conclusions, hear me out!
Obviously, I'm not talking about licensing for ugly/unusual people, don't get me wrong. Well actually, yes I am, but it would be purely consensual.
Basically, a local government officer would interview those put forward and discuss why they had been referred (the office would be equipped with a choice of mirrors, and weighing scales as an aid to this process), and the plugs/weirdos, would be persuaded to do the socially decent thing, and accept a generous set of conditions dictating the hours which they would be recommended to be out. Obviously, there would be no right to appeal, as some may be too stupid to know what's good for them, and we don't want to waste tax-payers' money in the courts.
It's not like they don't know why they've been referred, and most of them, when alone at night, probably pray for someone to do something about it. (Like that werewolf chap who insists on being locked in the room). Take that ginger lard-arse lady for example: what is her appearance in public other than a cry for help?
Is this too much? Let's face it, it's their well-being that I'm thinking of. It can't be easy going through life being pointed-at and making milk go sour, when all they probably want to do is a twelve hour shift at a call centre. And with 24hr shopping there's no reason they can't gather with their own kind overnight, which is probably the way they like it. They're certainly more likely to find their own kind on the tills at that hour anyway.
Obviously, I'm not going to address the issue of sterilisation because that belongs to a whole other debate, but I think it worth putting in the public debate.
Look, life has been cruel enough to these people, who are we to prolong the misery. Write to your MP today, and make them see sense.
If that doesn't work, we'll burn cars, invade the TV studios and declare parliament void until we get our way.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Dust Off The Barricades
Congratulations to Hungary and Thailand for ignoring the trends of history, and taking a definately retro approach to politics.
It's like the millenium never happened.
I'm going to avoid the coverage on the rolling news, and rely on dispatches sent by telegraph. That is if those pesky rebels haven't cut the wires!
Hmm, nostalgia.
It's like the millenium never happened.
I'm going to avoid the coverage on the rolling news, and rely on dispatches sent by telegraph. That is if those pesky rebels haven't cut the wires!
Hmm, nostalgia.
Philip Morris: The Environmental Cortez
As a smoker, I always had the problem of rationalising my choice to smoke, against my conscience that otherwise led me to the moral choice when providing consumer support to the forces of evil.
I wouldn't buy apartheid flavoured Outspan oranges, or Pinochet's Chilean wine, or use supermarkets that were bank-rolling the Thatcher government. So why should I give my money to the bastards in the tobacco industry who were beyond contempt?
Did I crave tobacco THAT much?
It seems that I'd underestimated the tobacco bastards. They're responsible for more than the average wrong-doing as environmentalist George Monbiot's Guardian article explains.
Want to know where those "scientific" refutations of global warming/climate change originated? Step forward Philip Morris, who shoved the whole tanker of doubt away from the quayside and out into the ocean of disinformation. Much of the unqualified lies perpetuated are still being cited as genuine research contradicting evidence of environmental decay.
It seems Philip Morris and Exxon were made for each other, and it's the Oil/Tobacco alliance that may win the political debate, at the cost of the earth.
I think the old analogy of cigarettes and coffin nails is a little bit more real after this.
I wouldn't buy apartheid flavoured Outspan oranges, or Pinochet's Chilean wine, or use supermarkets that were bank-rolling the Thatcher government. So why should I give my money to the bastards in the tobacco industry who were beyond contempt?
Did I crave tobacco THAT much?
It seems that I'd underestimated the tobacco bastards. They're responsible for more than the average wrong-doing as environmentalist George Monbiot's Guardian article explains.
Want to know where those "scientific" refutations of global warming/climate change originated? Step forward Philip Morris, who shoved the whole tanker of doubt away from the quayside and out into the ocean of disinformation. Much of the unqualified lies perpetuated are still being cited as genuine research contradicting evidence of environmental decay.
It seems Philip Morris and Exxon were made for each other, and it's the Oil/Tobacco alliance that may win the political debate, at the cost of the earth.
I think the old analogy of cigarettes and coffin nails is a little bit more real after this.
Jean Charles De Menezes
Not surprisingly the Metropolitan Police are unwilling to take responsibility for the slaughter of Jean Charles De Menezes last July. I was appalled to hear the police defence, which runs along the lines of:
(I have to paraphrase as I can't find it in text)
"The police did not set out on that day to kill Jean Charles De Menezes, they set out to protect the citizens of London"
Dear Metropolitan Police, Jean Charles De Menezes did not set out that day to get shot in the head seven times, or, for all we know, to commit any crime that would lead him to be shot in the head seven times. Jean Charles De Menezes was a citizen of London who should have been protected by the individuals who shot him seven times in the head.
This is not the time to take the "policing's a difficult job" approach. Someone cocked up and an innocent man died. That someone must take responsibility for their actions, or we cannot trust those paid to defend us.
(I have to paraphrase as I can't find it in text)
"The police did not set out on that day to kill Jean Charles De Menezes, they set out to protect the citizens of London"
Dear Metropolitan Police, Jean Charles De Menezes did not set out that day to get shot in the head seven times, or, for all we know, to commit any crime that would lead him to be shot in the head seven times. Jean Charles De Menezes was a citizen of London who should have been protected by the individuals who shot him seven times in the head.
This is not the time to take the "policing's a difficult job" approach. Someone cocked up and an innocent man died. That someone must take responsibility for their actions, or we cannot trust those paid to defend us.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Infallible or Infidel?
Well, I'm getting a bit sick of all this religion crap, and it's distressing that the World Political Climate—which isn't ALL the west's fault—continues to be dominated by it.
The Pope was doing nothing different from all the other Popes, identifying heresy, only we live in an age of instant communication where there are enough opportunists in the islamic world who have enough time on their hands to sit around waiting to get angry at "anti-islamic" sentiments, before telling the guys out in the street who have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE TO DO to go burn flags.
And the longer we obsess about it (ie: the fear of the Fatwa; the inability to balance the right of freedom of speech, with the right of the fundamentalists to threaten death on their critics), then the less able we will be to concentrate on what really counts down here on Earth, things like Poverty, Human Rights, Environmental Decay, Universal Education etc.
Let's start by winding down any belief in al-Qaeda.
If it ever did exist, it probably perished with Bin-Laden, who probably pegged it some time ago around the time the access to his money ran out. Let's face it, all we're left with is al-Zawahiri with a video camera.
Admittedly, those fellow Saudis that perpetrated 9/11 were almost certainly bank-rolled by Bin-Laden, but that was about it. That was the big one, the place in history, but it's downhill after that. Think big night out with the stolen credit card.
The idea that all muslim fundamentalism is part of a monolithic structure with Bin-Laden at its head is erroneous and owes too much to the Dr Evil school of thought favoured by the Bush administration because a) it's easier to imagine for anyone who has been to the movies, and b) it's easier to frighten people with.
Fundamentalism, popular with young men with messianic fantasies, has many shades, coloured by national, cultural and ethnic origins. And even if some of these kids have trained in Pakistani training camps in Afghanistan, they owe their leanings to the Mujahideen concept of the Jihad, not Bin-Laden, however much they may admire him.
Yes, al-Qaeda gets cited by the new wave of subversives, but only like a form of branding, like a global franchise. They want to be associated with the 9/11 phenomena, they like the fear that the brand evokes. It's a shortcut to notoriety.
However, if you put all these groups in one place for a week and they'd develop enough animosity on national, cultural and ethnic grounds to forget the infidel and start killing each other. And that's before they start on their religious differences.
Obviously, the al-Qaeda concept is attractive because it carries the hope of a cure. America kills the bad guys at the top and the little people at the bottom run like cowards into the shadows.
But it isn't like that. Islamic fundamentalist terror is amorphous and with us for a generation. Individuals will conspire to make big statements with atrocities, as that will bring them greater glory than a lifetime of political struggle and human endevour. What the rest of us have to do is learn to live with it without it undermining our values, or sense of perspective, whilst doing everything we can to undermine the folly that is religious fervour.
Religion won't get us out of this, any more than armies will.
The Pope was doing nothing different from all the other Popes, identifying heresy, only we live in an age of instant communication where there are enough opportunists in the islamic world who have enough time on their hands to sit around waiting to get angry at "anti-islamic" sentiments, before telling the guys out in the street who have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE TO DO to go burn flags.
And the longer we obsess about it (ie: the fear of the Fatwa; the inability to balance the right of freedom of speech, with the right of the fundamentalists to threaten death on their critics), then the less able we will be to concentrate on what really counts down here on Earth, things like Poverty, Human Rights, Environmental Decay, Universal Education etc.
Let's start by winding down any belief in al-Qaeda.
If it ever did exist, it probably perished with Bin-Laden, who probably pegged it some time ago around the time the access to his money ran out. Let's face it, all we're left with is al-Zawahiri with a video camera.
Admittedly, those fellow Saudis that perpetrated 9/11 were almost certainly bank-rolled by Bin-Laden, but that was about it. That was the big one, the place in history, but it's downhill after that. Think big night out with the stolen credit card.
The idea that all muslim fundamentalism is part of a monolithic structure with Bin-Laden at its head is erroneous and owes too much to the Dr Evil school of thought favoured by the Bush administration because a) it's easier to imagine for anyone who has been to the movies, and b) it's easier to frighten people with.
Fundamentalism, popular with young men with messianic fantasies, has many shades, coloured by national, cultural and ethnic origins. And even if some of these kids have trained in Pakistani training camps in Afghanistan, they owe their leanings to the Mujahideen concept of the Jihad, not Bin-Laden, however much they may admire him.
Yes, al-Qaeda gets cited by the new wave of subversives, but only like a form of branding, like a global franchise. They want to be associated with the 9/11 phenomena, they like the fear that the brand evokes. It's a shortcut to notoriety.
However, if you put all these groups in one place for a week and they'd develop enough animosity on national, cultural and ethnic grounds to forget the infidel and start killing each other. And that's before they start on their religious differences.
Obviously, the al-Qaeda concept is attractive because it carries the hope of a cure. America kills the bad guys at the top and the little people at the bottom run like cowards into the shadows.
But it isn't like that. Islamic fundamentalist terror is amorphous and with us for a generation. Individuals will conspire to make big statements with atrocities, as that will bring them greater glory than a lifetime of political struggle and human endevour. What the rest of us have to do is learn to live with it without it undermining our values, or sense of perspective, whilst doing everything we can to undermine the folly that is religious fervour.
Religion won't get us out of this, any more than armies will.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
BMW Bargain
Yes, a Red BMW for only £350!
Up on the A10 on the way to Edmonton, on the left by the abandoned shops next to the bus stop.
I reckon you could probably haggle him down to £320.
Imagine the envy of your friends.
Up on the A10 on the way to Edmonton, on the left by the abandoned shops next to the bus stop.
I reckon you could probably haggle him down to £320.
Imagine the envy of your friends.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Control
I forgot to mention the woman in Starbucks (don't judge me) a couple of weeks ago who handed back her cappuccino and insisted on "more froth", despite the queue behind her.
I can't imagine a more perfect specimen of a naked gesture.
I can't imagine a more perfect specimen of a naked gesture.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
The Freedom Loving Killing Machine
Those freedom hating lefties at the Guardian have produced some statistics regarding the "War On Terror".
Apparently, since 9/11, globally there have been 4,319 deaths at the hands of terrorists, and 92,469 deaths at the hands of the freedom loving "allies". Imagine, 92,469 terrorists! How many more could there possibly be?
I make that Terrorists 1, Freedom 23, so we're doing pretty good.
Sadly, 9/11, America's second "Day of Infamy" has been followed by a war that has now taken longer than the war that followed the first back in 1942.
America saw off the Japanese within four years, although they took the short cut in the end (and 215,000 civilian lives) with those atom bombs. Now the war in Afghanistan is approaching five years old, and still those pesky Talibans haven't got the message. What is it about free trade that they don't understand?
And isn't it about time Osama stopped delegating to his No. 2 and started doing some real work? And I mean videos, not those crappy cassette efforts. What's the point of being a world villain if you're not going to go for vainglory?
Where is Ian Fleming when we need him?
Apparently, since 9/11, globally there have been 4,319 deaths at the hands of terrorists, and 92,469 deaths at the hands of the freedom loving "allies". Imagine, 92,469 terrorists! How many more could there possibly be?
I make that Terrorists 1, Freedom 23, so we're doing pretty good.
Sadly, 9/11, America's second "Day of Infamy" has been followed by a war that has now taken longer than the war that followed the first back in 1942.
America saw off the Japanese within four years, although they took the short cut in the end (and 215,000 civilian lives) with those atom bombs. Now the war in Afghanistan is approaching five years old, and still those pesky Talibans haven't got the message. What is it about free trade that they don't understand?
And isn't it about time Osama stopped delegating to his No. 2 and started doing some real work? And I mean videos, not those crappy cassette efforts. What's the point of being a world villain if you're not going to go for vainglory?
Where is Ian Fleming when we need him?
Monday, September 11, 2006
Why I Hate The Tories
Reluctant to turn this post into a long list of grievances, I'll concentrate on the point at hand, which was highlighted by this story about the perilous state of British wildlife at the hands of the landowning rich.
Now I appreciate that ornithology may not be the grooviest topic on the agenda, but I think that the plight of the hen harrier is a pertinent reminder of how vulnerable the environment is in Tory hands; and most of it in this country is.
The rural landowners are constantly bleating about how they should be just left alone to run the countryside without urban interference, and how their diligent care of the land over the centuries has produced England's peerless landscape. Yet in practice, they prove to be narrow-minded and cash-grabbing, in their constant striving for short-term gain.
Grouse are raised in their thousands to be killed by those rich-enough to attend a shoot. Thus the event serves both purposes of the Tory life-style: a profit is made and it perpetuates an elitist ritual. The hen-harrier is therefore a nuisance, and may nibble into their profits, therefore it has to be eradicated.
When the landowners pledge their love of the countryside, they merely mean their love of living commodities, that which exists to create profit. Their love fails to extend beyond this, and converts very quickly to hatred when faced with the non-commodity that is the rest of nature: ie; the vast majority of the environment, which the Tories believe to be in direct competition with them, setting out to deprive them of their heritage, like some chaotic saboteur.
The Tory landowning class will never rest until every un-commodifiable animal and plant is extinguished, even if it meant that their own future was doomed. Money in the bank now and the social status that that brings, that's what counts, not some scraggy wild vermin and weeds favoured by the communist Townies. And the rest of us can only sit by and watch our world shrink as a result.
Ten years ago, around the time of the Frankenstein-like BSE crisis, the farmers of Dorset seemed to be united against the EC (who were reluctant to contaminate Europe with British Beef) and everywhere one looked there were large hand-made signs disparaging Brussels. The basic message was "hands of the British countryside". In one picture-book village, there was a classic 17th century pub, displaying its loyalty with a "keep Britain British" sign at the gate to the beer-garden.
I say picture-book village, but it wasn't quite, as the verdant beauty of the surrounding countryside was marred by the horror that was that pub's beer-garden, decked out as it was by a sea of gaudy scarlet sunshades advertising Coca-Cola.
Nationalise the land NOW!
Now I appreciate that ornithology may not be the grooviest topic on the agenda, but I think that the plight of the hen harrier is a pertinent reminder of how vulnerable the environment is in Tory hands; and most of it in this country is.
The rural landowners are constantly bleating about how they should be just left alone to run the countryside without urban interference, and how their diligent care of the land over the centuries has produced England's peerless landscape. Yet in practice, they prove to be narrow-minded and cash-grabbing, in their constant striving for short-term gain.
Grouse are raised in their thousands to be killed by those rich-enough to attend a shoot. Thus the event serves both purposes of the Tory life-style: a profit is made and it perpetuates an elitist ritual. The hen-harrier is therefore a nuisance, and may nibble into their profits, therefore it has to be eradicated.
When the landowners pledge their love of the countryside, they merely mean their love of living commodities, that which exists to create profit. Their love fails to extend beyond this, and converts very quickly to hatred when faced with the non-commodity that is the rest of nature: ie; the vast majority of the environment, which the Tories believe to be in direct competition with them, setting out to deprive them of their heritage, like some chaotic saboteur.
The Tory landowning class will never rest until every un-commodifiable animal and plant is extinguished, even if it meant that their own future was doomed. Money in the bank now and the social status that that brings, that's what counts, not some scraggy wild vermin and weeds favoured by the communist Townies. And the rest of us can only sit by and watch our world shrink as a result.
Ten years ago, around the time of the Frankenstein-like BSE crisis, the farmers of Dorset seemed to be united against the EC (who were reluctant to contaminate Europe with British Beef) and everywhere one looked there were large hand-made signs disparaging Brussels. The basic message was "hands of the British countryside". In one picture-book village, there was a classic 17th century pub, displaying its loyalty with a "keep Britain British" sign at the gate to the beer-garden.
I say picture-book village, but it wasn't quite, as the verdant beauty of the surrounding countryside was marred by the horror that was that pub's beer-garden, decked out as it was by a sea of gaudy scarlet sunshades advertising Coca-Cola.
Nationalise the land NOW!
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Evening Standard: Jamie Oliver Attacks Parents
Well, if he's the result of their efforts, Mr & Mrs Oliver were probably asking for it.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
They Think It's Moldova....
Well, I came downstairs and sat down in front of the TV, only to discover that the Macedonia v. England wasn't on!
I listened to the first half on 5Live, before setting off to the pub for the second half.
Due to the queue at the cash machine by Wood Green Tube (some stupid woman using a teddy bear to obscure her key strokes), I missed the start of the second half; which means I missed the only goal. Which I still haven't seen, as Sky failed to show it again, despite the mediocrity of the game.
Anyway, I'm not a fan of watching England games in the pub because:
a) the boorishness of the drunken English fan,
&
b) the recent trend of "face-painters" that have adopted England as one of their brands, despite their complete lack of football experience. (You know, the guys in Beckham jerseys who look around the room in confusion as England struggle against the nobodies: Why can't England display the superhero skills exhibited in the adverts? ).
But, it was actually quite interesting. Not only was there little bigotry on display— only one loudmouth Londoner to whom the game was his chance to shine as "the people's commentator" (Thanks, but no thanks)—and the face-painters were subdued (including the "Tottenham Fan" in front of me with a Rooney shirt—how does that work?) so it was actually quite bearable.
So the highlight was actually the pub's reaction to the scores elsewhere:
San Marino 0-10 Germany got a cheer, but then France 3-1 Italy got a round of applause. When it got to San Marino 0-13, the cheers contained the Whey Hey! quality that England lost years ago.
I like the current Germany squad: they have that Keegan's Newcastle quality of aspiring to overcome their shortcomings by outscoring the opposition, however many goals that takes. So when it comes to San Marino they don't know when to stop: which puts England's five against Andorra into perspective.
Remember: I qualify as a German by birth! Come on yooo krauts.
And well done Northern Ireland against the perenially overrated Spanish lightweights. Fantastic result which shows just how overrated modern footballers at the top level are.
I listened to the first half on 5Live, before setting off to the pub for the second half.
Due to the queue at the cash machine by Wood Green Tube (some stupid woman using a teddy bear to obscure her key strokes), I missed the start of the second half; which means I missed the only goal. Which I still haven't seen, as Sky failed to show it again, despite the mediocrity of the game.
Anyway, I'm not a fan of watching England games in the pub because:
a) the boorishness of the drunken English fan,
&
b) the recent trend of "face-painters" that have adopted England as one of their brands, despite their complete lack of football experience. (You know, the guys in Beckham jerseys who look around the room in confusion as England struggle against the nobodies: Why can't England display the superhero skills exhibited in the adverts? ).
But, it was actually quite interesting. Not only was there little bigotry on display— only one loudmouth Londoner to whom the game was his chance to shine as "the people's commentator" (Thanks, but no thanks)—and the face-painters were subdued (including the "Tottenham Fan" in front of me with a Rooney shirt—how does that work?) so it was actually quite bearable.
So the highlight was actually the pub's reaction to the scores elsewhere:
San Marino 0-10 Germany got a cheer, but then France 3-1 Italy got a round of applause. When it got to San Marino 0-13, the cheers contained the Whey Hey! quality that England lost years ago.
I like the current Germany squad: they have that Keegan's Newcastle quality of aspiring to overcome their shortcomings by outscoring the opposition, however many goals that takes. So when it comes to San Marino they don't know when to stop: which puts England's five against Andorra into perspective.
Remember: I qualify as a German by birth! Come on yooo krauts.
And well done Northern Ireland against the perenially overrated Spanish lightweights. Fantastic result which shows just how overrated modern footballers at the top level are.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Post-Modern Ironing
Older readers in the UK will remember those blissful days before FM radio when evenings were spent trying to listen to chart music on Radio Luxembourg, as "All The Young Dudes" would fade in and out of the wall of static that was European broadcasting. That and those Peter Stuyvesant ads. And Clearasil! Hey Kids, don't let acne get you down: have another fag!
If you do remember, you'll also recall the little fanfare identification signal from Tirana that would rise and fade morbidly in the background. A mystery to us teenagers, the signal was there to locate the Albanian National Radio Service whilst it was off the air, and to stop anyone using the wavelength in their absence.
I mention this purely because I feel that is what this post is about.
I have nothing to say tonight, but if I don't post anything people will give up looking, which would impair the moment when I DO have that shrewd insight, or inspired wit to impart, and no-one's looking.
Please keep this channel open; I'm sure SOMETHING will turn up.
And check out The Shed
If you do remember, you'll also recall the little fanfare identification signal from Tirana that would rise and fade morbidly in the background. A mystery to us teenagers, the signal was there to locate the Albanian National Radio Service whilst it was off the air, and to stop anyone using the wavelength in their absence.
I mention this purely because I feel that is what this post is about.
I have nothing to say tonight, but if I don't post anything people will give up looking, which would impair the moment when I DO have that shrewd insight, or inspired wit to impart, and no-one's looking.
Please keep this channel open; I'm sure SOMETHING will turn up.
And check out The Shed
Monday, September 04, 2006
What would Thatcher think?
As the tabloids warn us of the dangers of the Eastern European influx, now that we have one million Poles amongst us, I see conflicting messages.
Whilst the Daily Mail readers quake in their beds, the captains of industry they revere seem to quite like the Poles. Apparently, the Poles are industrious and good time-keepers who are willing to put the hours in. Also, the Eastern Europeans tend to share the right wing, racist instincts of those Daily Mail readers, and they are definitely a lot whiter than the previous wave of immigrants.
And anecdotal evidence tends to suggest that employers' inclination towards the Eastern Europeans is creating pressure on the employment prospects of the Black immigration that has been the back-bone of our low-paid ancillary industries.
So are this lot going to suppress the opportunity for the previous wave to climb the ladder? Are black employees going to be sidelined, and held in an employment ghetto where opportunities to advance are restricted? Could be.
In the same vein, one wonders (doesn't one?) if there are parallels in our national game, where the foreign-owned big clubs are now relying on imports in order to avoid the Tommy Atkins school of hard-work and tough-tackling football that has brought the national side fuck-all over the decades.
Who wants a bunch of criminal class piss-artists when you can pay over the odds for a dedicated athlete who has been coached in the art of looking after himself, on and off the pitch.
The reality is that the average Johnny Foreigner is only here for the ridiculous wages, and couldn't give a shit about the club; but as long as the perception amongst the club owners of overseas players as being more professional, more RELIABLE than the home-grown players, then the British product will be continually second-rate.
Not unlike a clapped out Rover, choking out blue smoke, in the wake of the Mercedes and Ferraris on the road to success.
A German Joke: What's the difference between a Jehovas Witness and a British Car?
You can always shut the door on a Jehovas Witness!
Whilst the Daily Mail readers quake in their beds, the captains of industry they revere seem to quite like the Poles. Apparently, the Poles are industrious and good time-keepers who are willing to put the hours in. Also, the Eastern Europeans tend to share the right wing, racist instincts of those Daily Mail readers, and they are definitely a lot whiter than the previous wave of immigrants.
And anecdotal evidence tends to suggest that employers' inclination towards the Eastern Europeans is creating pressure on the employment prospects of the Black immigration that has been the back-bone of our low-paid ancillary industries.
So are this lot going to suppress the opportunity for the previous wave to climb the ladder? Are black employees going to be sidelined, and held in an employment ghetto where opportunities to advance are restricted? Could be.
In the same vein, one wonders (doesn't one?) if there are parallels in our national game, where the foreign-owned big clubs are now relying on imports in order to avoid the Tommy Atkins school of hard-work and tough-tackling football that has brought the national side fuck-all over the decades.
Who wants a bunch of criminal class piss-artists when you can pay over the odds for a dedicated athlete who has been coached in the art of looking after himself, on and off the pitch.
The reality is that the average Johnny Foreigner is only here for the ridiculous wages, and couldn't give a shit about the club; but as long as the perception amongst the club owners of overseas players as being more professional, more RELIABLE than the home-grown players, then the British product will be continually second-rate.
Not unlike a clapped out Rover, choking out blue smoke, in the wake of the Mercedes and Ferraris on the road to success.
A German Joke: What's the difference between a Jehovas Witness and a British Car?
You can always shut the door on a Jehovas Witness!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Evening Standard: Huge Car Gang Smashed
Yeh, apparently these criminal guys were driving around in this really big motor vehicle, yet on being apprehended, they proved to be quite brittle.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Terror in the Skies
I think this story from the BBC is only telling half the truth:Pilot in Toilet Farce as I imagine the co-pilot was playing a little TOO safe on the security front.
Scenario:
Pilot returns from lavatory: Thump Thump, "OK Bruce, you get let me back in now!"
Co-Pilot: "Err, How do I know it's you?"
Pilot: "Stop being an asshole you fuckwit and open this door: I have a plane to land!"
Co-Pilot: "Yeh, but, like I say, how do I know it's you?"
And talk about Terror in the Skies: how did the passengers feel as the crew had to break the door open to the cockpit prior to landing?
And how did they feel about flying in The Bombadier?
I think we need answers.
Scenario:
Pilot returns from lavatory: Thump Thump, "OK Bruce, you get let me back in now!"
Co-Pilot: "Err, How do I know it's you?"
Pilot: "Stop being an asshole you fuckwit and open this door: I have a plane to land!"
Co-Pilot: "Yeh, but, like I say, how do I know it's you?"
And talk about Terror in the Skies: how did the passengers feel as the crew had to break the door open to the cockpit prior to landing?
And how did they feel about flying in The Bombadier?
I think we need answers.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Vintage Guitar Conundrum
Thinking of selling my 70s Strat for its over-inflated value, then exploiting the weak dollar to scale my investment up by buying an better guitar of collector status in the US.
But what guitar?
Or do I just do the Tory thing and buy the instrument which will guarantee the best return?
And can I get it back to Blighty in one piece with the current carry-on restrictions?
"I sorry, but your $4,000 guitar is now matchwood sir"
Decisions, decisions.
But what guitar?
Or do I just do the Tory thing and buy the instrument which will guarantee the best return?
And can I get it back to Blighty in one piece with the current carry-on restrictions?
"I sorry, but your $4,000 guitar is now matchwood sir"
Decisions, decisions.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Manliness
Just finished a week of working on the house, some of which was successful.
Interesting how hiring equipment makes everything time precious: a bit like real work. No breaks, as any delay could lead to another day's hire charges.
Warning: don't hire a paint sprayer to paint the house.
a) they're expensive
b) they spray EVERYTHING, and you'll spend the entire next day fruitlessly attempting to remove paint from everything you'd didn't want to spray, only to conclude that you'll have to hire the big ladder again in order to paint over the sprayed bits to eradicate the erroneous spray that just won't come off,
and
c) you'll spend more time cleaning the paint-sprayer than you will spraying, as it clogs up whenever you attempt to run any PAINT through it.
Never again.
Oh, and forget about using the herbs in the kitchen side herb boxes: the paint sprayer gets them too.
However: one success. After two years, I finally completed the TV cabinet, which is in place, and has yet to collapse.
Interesting how hiring equipment makes everything time precious: a bit like real work. No breaks, as any delay could lead to another day's hire charges.
Warning: don't hire a paint sprayer to paint the house.
a) they're expensive
b) they spray EVERYTHING, and you'll spend the entire next day fruitlessly attempting to remove paint from everything you'd didn't want to spray, only to conclude that you'll have to hire the big ladder again in order to paint over the sprayed bits to eradicate the erroneous spray that just won't come off,
and
c) you'll spend more time cleaning the paint-sprayer than you will spraying, as it clogs up whenever you attempt to run any PAINT through it.
Never again.
Oh, and forget about using the herbs in the kitchen side herb boxes: the paint sprayer gets them too.
However: one success. After two years, I finally completed the TV cabinet, which is in place, and has yet to collapse.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Yet Another Nail in Football's Coffin
Those who saw Ben Thatcher's assault on Pedro Mendes last night should be wondering why this shitty little thug is allowed to take part in the national game.
Prior to the 1970s, his actions would have seen him banned from playing altogether, at any level.
Although it's heartening that the Greater Manchester Police are "looking at the evidence" I suspect that this won't amount to much as the FA discreetly fudges the issue with some dreadful compromise along the lines of "sincere apologies", "stern words", and the subtext that "it's a man's game".
And why? Because Thatcher is worth too much in monetary terms to Manchester City to him to be expelled from the game, and if action was taken to proscribe the little shit, then a precedent would have been set and other clubs would be looking at financial loss whenever inappropriate behaviour was punished proportionately.
And we all know that no club is going to allow the FA that power.
Prior to the 1970s, his actions would have seen him banned from playing altogether, at any level.
Although it's heartening that the Greater Manchester Police are "looking at the evidence" I suspect that this won't amount to much as the FA discreetly fudges the issue with some dreadful compromise along the lines of "sincere apologies", "stern words", and the subtext that "it's a man's game".
And why? Because Thatcher is worth too much in monetary terms to Manchester City to him to be expelled from the game, and if action was taken to proscribe the little shit, then a precedent would have been set and other clubs would be looking at financial loss whenever inappropriate behaviour was punished proportionately.
And we all know that no club is going to allow the FA that power.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
24 Hours Deja Vu
Good luck to our friends in NYC who are recreating past glories.
Me? I'm painting the house, striving daily to overcome vertigo on a seemingly too frail ladder.
Me? I'm painting the house, striving daily to overcome vertigo on a seemingly too frail ladder.
Monday, August 21, 2006
The Homebase Incident
I was about to leave my local hardware outlet when I was approached by the commision-only salesman who optomistically sits by the exit attempting to sell doors (or windows?).
"Excuse me sir?" he asked "Are you trade?"
I mean REALLY!
Naturally, I took immediate umbrage and huffed at him, before clutching my all purpose mortar and storming out.
That's not the sort of thing one expects at Homebase: at B&Q maybe, but not Homebase.
"Excuse me sir?" he asked "Are you trade?"
I mean REALLY!
Naturally, I took immediate umbrage and huffed at him, before clutching my all purpose mortar and storming out.
That's not the sort of thing one expects at Homebase: at B&Q maybe, but not Homebase.
Friday, August 18, 2006
The Street
Just finished watching The Street by Jimmy McGovern.
Good series, and great TV, but why does everything from the North West insist on peddling the same reactionary cliché that all middle class people in positions of authority are a) gormless, b) insensitive, c) snobs.
Class affects us all, but it's the working class prejudice against the aspirational that keeps the working class down.
Why can't the English learn to think upwards like the Americans and the Australians?
Come on, let's give it a try.
Good series, and great TV, but why does everything from the North West insist on peddling the same reactionary cliché that all middle class people in positions of authority are a) gormless, b) insensitive, c) snobs.
Class affects us all, but it's the working class prejudice against the aspirational that keeps the working class down.
Why can't the English learn to think upwards like the Americans and the Australians?
Come on, let's give it a try.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Moisturiser verses Bush: the war on terror is lost
UA923 from Heathrow has been diverted to Boston with a fighter escort.
If a flight can be rendered suspect because a cantankerous woman—who simply MUST have her moisturiser on a dehydrating long-haul—ignores already over the top boarding restrictions, then the whole concept of national security is proven to be a farce.
Was she EVER considered a threat? Or were the crew merely following the letter of the (hastily scribbled) law as it stands THIS week. We now have a situation where no-one wants to take any risk of incuring the wrath of Rumsfeld, lest their career takes a dive. And this includes the British Aviation Authority.
How much does it cost to scramble two fighters? What was the point of spreading out the luggage on the runway?
This is weakness on the part of the executive, and illustrates just how confused their thinking is.
Even the BBC foolish allowed itself to publish an unsubstantiated claim that the passenger had " a screwdriver, Vaseline, matches and a note referring to al-Qaeda ", but it then continued to refute the allegation for the rest of the day.
If it was unsubstantiated, why print it at all?
Because that's what the government would approve of. It's scene setting, it's softening the public up.
Is our civilisation eating itself?
If a flight can be rendered suspect because a cantankerous woman—who simply MUST have her moisturiser on a dehydrating long-haul—ignores already over the top boarding restrictions, then the whole concept of national security is proven to be a farce.
Was she EVER considered a threat? Or were the crew merely following the letter of the (hastily scribbled) law as it stands THIS week. We now have a situation where no-one wants to take any risk of incuring the wrath of Rumsfeld, lest their career takes a dive. And this includes the British Aviation Authority.
How much does it cost to scramble two fighters? What was the point of spreading out the luggage on the runway?
This is weakness on the part of the executive, and illustrates just how confused their thinking is.
Even the BBC foolish allowed itself to publish an unsubstantiated claim that the passenger had " a screwdriver, Vaseline, matches and a note referring to al-Qaeda ", but it then continued to refute the allegation for the rest of the day.
If it was unsubstantiated, why print it at all?
Because that's what the government would approve of. It's scene setting, it's softening the public up.
Is our civilisation eating itself?
Saturday, August 12, 2006
OK Everybody, Move Along, Nothing To See
Sorry, I sort of missed yesterday's nonsense, chiefly because I couldn't take it seriously.
All I could think about on hearing how dangerous the plot WOULD be, was Team America's "it will be like 9/11 times a hundred!"
So until the authorities say "In this house, we found these explosives, and these flight tickets" I remain sceptical, for I suspect that someone at the top of the British security forces has told those beneath him to get a victory to placate the Americans after a bad year.
Anyway, thanks to Titivil for bringing our attention to this excellent comment which basically sums it all up for all of us.
Which is more than can be said for yesterday's link to Larry Johnson, which frankly read like a typical whiny America throwing his toys out of the pram because he couldn't make the silly English people act to his will by shouting at them.
Not unlike the America woman of girth who I passed in Kings Cross station on the way to work earlier this week who was BELLOWING at the ticket counter "I DON'T CARE! I WANT ONE, AND I WANT IT NOW!" And as though passing one national stereotype was not enough, I then encountered a German in Leiderhosen. At 8:00 in the morning! I braced myself as I left the station, should I be assailed by a stripey-shirted French Onion seller.
As a boy, on the south coast of England, I have memory of the Breton onion seller who used to cycle Dorset on his bicycle, burdened with onions. He didn't have a stripey shirt, prefering a heavy sailor's jumper, but he did wear a beret. Thus, whenever my brother set off for Sea-Cadets in his own beret, family members would ask him to bring back onions and a packet of Gitanes.
Simple days.
All I could think about on hearing how dangerous the plot WOULD be, was Team America's "it will be like 9/11 times a hundred!"
So until the authorities say "In this house, we found these explosives, and these flight tickets" I remain sceptical, for I suspect that someone at the top of the British security forces has told those beneath him to get a victory to placate the Americans after a bad year.
Anyway, thanks to Titivil for bringing our attention to this excellent comment which basically sums it all up for all of us.
Which is more than can be said for yesterday's link to Larry Johnson, which frankly read like a typical whiny America throwing his toys out of the pram because he couldn't make the silly English people act to his will by shouting at them.
Not unlike the America woman of girth who I passed in Kings Cross station on the way to work earlier this week who was BELLOWING at the ticket counter "I DON'T CARE! I WANT ONE, AND I WANT IT NOW!" And as though passing one national stereotype was not enough, I then encountered a German in Leiderhosen. At 8:00 in the morning! I braced myself as I left the station, should I be assailed by a stripey-shirted French Onion seller.
As a boy, on the south coast of England, I have memory of the Breton onion seller who used to cycle Dorset on his bicycle, burdened with onions. He didn't have a stripey shirt, prefering a heavy sailor's jumper, but he did wear a beret. Thus, whenever my brother set off for Sea-Cadets in his own beret, family members would ask him to bring back onions and a packet of Gitanes.
Simple days.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Has Charles Been Buggered?
Well, that's what I THOUGHT the Daily Mail headline said!
Then it turns out about the Prince of Wales having his phone tapped.
Oh, THAT old rumour.
Then it turns out about the Prince of Wales having his phone tapped.
Oh, THAT old rumour.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Hizbullah Rocket Attacks Increase
And everyone's pointing the finger at Iran as the likely supplier.
Why aren't they asking who is SELLING these weapons in the first place?
Who's making them; and who's policing the manufacturers?
Why aren't they asking who is SELLING these weapons in the first place?
Who's making them; and who's policing the manufacturers?
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Viva Castro!
I'd like to let our American friends know that we're all rooting for Fidel over here.
If the White House and their chums down in gun-drenched Miami think they're going to walk straight back in, just wait until they find out how much advance the Europeans have made already.
Basically, Cuba is a shit poor island, but what does work is the Spanish run tourist industry catering for the European visitors who have laid claim to the island over the years of American neglect. And they aren't going to give it up without a fight.
The only thing America has to offer—apart from turning the already sterile Varadero into another Cancun—will be the introduction of the drug trade which will destroy an unprepared, and undeserving country.
Come Fidel; stick it up Uncle Sam just one more time. Solidalidad!
If the White House and their chums down in gun-drenched Miami think they're going to walk straight back in, just wait until they find out how much advance the Europeans have made already.
Basically, Cuba is a shit poor island, but what does work is the Spanish run tourist industry catering for the European visitors who have laid claim to the island over the years of American neglect. And they aren't going to give it up without a fight.
The only thing America has to offer—apart from turning the already sterile Varadero into another Cancun—will be the introduction of the drug trade which will destroy an unprepared, and undeserving country.
Come Fidel; stick it up Uncle Sam just one more time. Solidalidad!
Red Devil Blues
So Manchester United have launched a programme to combat depression amongst their fans.
I take it they're anticipating another crap season.
I take it they're anticipating another crap season.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Local Authority News
From our Welsh desk, Newtown have found someone at last. Check out Council Vacancy Filled
Stop snickering at the back!
Stop snickering at the back!
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Terror Good, Botox Bad, Apparently
If this is the end of the enlightenment, I have been considering where the "enlightened" go from here.
Maybe it's time to unleash the bigot within us and reconfigure our belief systems into something more pragmatic and flexible.
Let's tolerate the things we like, yet be less giving to that which we disagree with.
For example: The right to choose: Good. The right of teenage boys to wear their jeans below their arses: Bad. The right to vote: Good. The right to vote for George Bush: Bad. That kind of thing.
I'm not a fan of the Fatwa, yet when I heard that the Islamic Fatwa of Malaysia had vetoed the use of Botox, I felt that they may be right, as it's a useless practice and worthy of scorn (although it seems a bit mean considering that it stops devout muslim women from treating the only bit of flesh they get to show—that bit between their eyebrows).
And all credit to the Malaysian government who banned chewing gum, saving themselves the bill of cleaning it off the streets for which "democracies" elsewhere have to divert funds away from the welfare state (£150 million in the UK). And let's face it, no reasonable person agrees with the death penalty, but used sensibly it could save us shitloads on prison fees.
Yes, it's time for the enlightment to bow out the way it arrived, festooned with despots. Obviously, an elite will be needed to decided what is goes and what don't—it's a delicate process after all, requiring impeccable judgement—but we know who we are, and there will be no need for consultation with the public for whom we'll provided guidance.
The Democratic/Christian/Liberal impulse needs revision, so let's give the new, new world order with a taste of their own medicine!
Dirigiste? Moi?
Maybe it's time to unleash the bigot within us and reconfigure our belief systems into something more pragmatic and flexible.
Let's tolerate the things we like, yet be less giving to that which we disagree with.
For example: The right to choose: Good. The right of teenage boys to wear their jeans below their arses: Bad. The right to vote: Good. The right to vote for George Bush: Bad. That kind of thing.
I'm not a fan of the Fatwa, yet when I heard that the Islamic Fatwa of Malaysia had vetoed the use of Botox, I felt that they may be right, as it's a useless practice and worthy of scorn (although it seems a bit mean considering that it stops devout muslim women from treating the only bit of flesh they get to show—that bit between their eyebrows).
And all credit to the Malaysian government who banned chewing gum, saving themselves the bill of cleaning it off the streets for which "democracies" elsewhere have to divert funds away from the welfare state (£150 million in the UK). And let's face it, no reasonable person agrees with the death penalty, but used sensibly it could save us shitloads on prison fees.
Yes, it's time for the enlightment to bow out the way it arrived, festooned with despots. Obviously, an elite will be needed to decided what is goes and what don't—it's a delicate process after all, requiring impeccable judgement—but we know who we are, and there will be no need for consultation with the public for whom we'll provided guidance.
The Democratic/Christian/Liberal impulse needs revision, so let's give the new, new world order with a taste of their own medicine!
Dirigiste? Moi?
Thursday, July 27, 2006
The End of Civilisation As We Know It?
There's no point in spending all night pointing the searchlight on the insanity of the White House/Israeli axis, or the ultimate conclusion on world affairs (for the worst) that their actions have put into motion, but it does appear that the balance of power across the world has fallen into the laps of the misinformed, and everybody else must sit by and witness the global car-crash that will consume us all.
The enlightment was a beautiful thing whilst it lasted.
The enlightment was a beautiful thing whilst it lasted.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Small Cat Diary
Our Tom Cat caught his first rat tonight!
We were enjoying a salad on the new garden table, when there was a kerfuffle behind the shed, from whence came a eeking and a squeeking, followed by the emergence of our Archie (eagerly accompanied by Alli, girl cat) head aloft with said rodent in his jaws.
In the confusion that followed, with me preventing him from giving Rodent1 a tour of the house, all three animals rushed to the flowerpots, where Ratty broke free. As Archie trashed the geraniums in an attempt at recovery, I stepped in—gloved—and removed the Tom to the shed and girl cat to the house, whilst the vermin climbed the fence into the ivy, where no doubt he still awaits nightfall.
Obviously, we're all proud, but have realised that we probably have another 12 years of this, and as my partner is of the "standing on a chair screaming" school of creature control, I will have to play Mellors.
We were enjoying a salad on the new garden table, when there was a kerfuffle behind the shed, from whence came a eeking and a squeeking, followed by the emergence of our Archie (eagerly accompanied by Alli, girl cat) head aloft with said rodent in his jaws.
In the confusion that followed, with me preventing him from giving Rodent1 a tour of the house, all three animals rushed to the flowerpots, where Ratty broke free. As Archie trashed the geraniums in an attempt at recovery, I stepped in—gloved—and removed the Tom to the shed and girl cat to the house, whilst the vermin climbed the fence into the ivy, where no doubt he still awaits nightfall.
Obviously, we're all proud, but have realised that we probably have another 12 years of this, and as my partner is of the "standing on a chair screaming" school of creature control, I will have to play Mellors.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Supermarket Blitz
Hey, guess what? Yes, the United States has voiced its disapproval over the Israeli actions in Lebanon. Like DUH!
Basically, we all know that the White House agreed the Israelis a week's grace to do as they like, before Condo Rice shows up playing the part of the good guy.
It's like a form of Supermarket Sweep, where the lucky winner gets one minute to scour the store to grab as much they can; only in this version Israel waved away the trolley in favour of a sledgehammer, as they set about wasting the electricity junction boxes; freezers and cash tills before pissing over the meat counter and stamping on the fruit, then hastily grabbing a couple of bottles of Johnny Walker, declaring "this is what we came in for!" just as Condoleeeza Rice blows the whistle: whereon the underpaid Saturday girl is informed that she has to work late to clean up after them.
And wait until the Americans find out that Hizbullah* are still there! They're going to be SO pissed off! "Jesus, you guys; what have you been DOING in there?!"
*Yes, there's a spelling war. I'm sticking with the Guardian's choice, but I suspect that the BBC's Hezbollah is going to win the day. Maybe they're different branches of the same gang. Maybe they should take each other on to sort this spelling business out for once and for all.
Basically, we all know that the White House agreed the Israelis a week's grace to do as they like, before Condo Rice shows up playing the part of the good guy.
It's like a form of Supermarket Sweep, where the lucky winner gets one minute to scour the store to grab as much they can; only in this version Israel waved away the trolley in favour of a sledgehammer, as they set about wasting the electricity junction boxes; freezers and cash tills before pissing over the meat counter and stamping on the fruit, then hastily grabbing a couple of bottles of Johnny Walker, declaring "this is what we came in for!" just as Condoleeeza Rice blows the whistle: whereon the underpaid Saturday girl is informed that she has to work late to clean up after them.
And wait until the Americans find out that Hizbullah* are still there! They're going to be SO pissed off! "Jesus, you guys; what have you been DOING in there?!"
*Yes, there's a spelling war. I'm sticking with the Guardian's choice, but I suspect that the BBC's Hezbollah is going to win the day. Maybe they're different branches of the same gang. Maybe they should take each other on to sort this spelling business out for once and for all.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Economic Warfare
If the demise of the Cold War was the "End of History ", then life after 9/11 must be the start of Post-History, an era when the western governments began to create a new bogeyman in "terrorism" (See Here) in order to undermine the democracies under their control. Blair introduces ID cards, an anathema to the British; the Americans begin to use anti-terror legislation as a Foreign policy weapon, such as against the NatWest3 (heaven forbid Enron had anything to do with Americans) and now we see the Israelis imposing economic warfare upon its neighbour under the pretext that it's fighting Hizbullah.
Lebanon completely destroyed itself in the 80s, yet recovered, stabilised and was preparing to thrive before the Israelis bombed it back into poverty. Practically none of Israel's targets have been related to Hizbullah. The fundamentalists don't work at petrol stations, dairies or power plants, they're too busy living the martyr's dream out in the wilderness with their weapons.
Yes, the Israelis don't like arabs, and neither do they want their security undermined: but the evidence indicates that this attack is an opportunist war in order to curb Lebanon's recovery as an economic region. It's a Tory mentality: short term gain at the expense of everybody else's quality of life.
The consequences of this attack—ie: the nurturing of revenging terrorists—will have to be shared by the rest of us.
Fuck off Tel Aviv, and tell your buddies in the White House to fuck off back to their ranches with their billions and to leave the world alone.
Lebanon completely destroyed itself in the 80s, yet recovered, stabilised and was preparing to thrive before the Israelis bombed it back into poverty. Practically none of Israel's targets have been related to Hizbullah. The fundamentalists don't work at petrol stations, dairies or power plants, they're too busy living the martyr's dream out in the wilderness with their weapons.
Yes, the Israelis don't like arabs, and neither do they want their security undermined: but the evidence indicates that this attack is an opportunist war in order to curb Lebanon's recovery as an economic region. It's a Tory mentality: short term gain at the expense of everybody else's quality of life.
The consequences of this attack—ie: the nurturing of revenging terrorists—will have to be shared by the rest of us.
Fuck off Tel Aviv, and tell your buddies in the White House to fuck off back to their ranches with their billions and to leave the world alone.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Heatwave Shorts Ban
Yes, the boys at the Evening Standard continue to struggle for news as the above billboard indicates.
I cannot confirm that the ban is the result of London Mayor Ken Livingstone, but I'm sure the Evening Standard will find a link.
I cannot confirm that the ban is the result of London Mayor Ken Livingstone, but I'm sure the Evening Standard will find a link.
Israeli Alibi
As Israeli intelligence senses that the USA is becoming isolated from Israeli actions in Lebanon, the following excuse has been cobbled up to keep the Rumsfeld/Cheney camp on board: Apparently Iran did it all along!
Ridiculous? Well, Rumsfeld/Cheney/Bush ran with the "Saddam is head of Al Queda" bullshit and entered Iraq accordingly. Maybe they'll LOVE this claim!
Hell in a handcart.
Ridiculous? Well, Rumsfeld/Cheney/Bush ran with the "Saddam is head of Al Queda" bullshit and entered Iraq accordingly. Maybe they'll LOVE this claim!
Hell in a handcart.
Religion; Tradition: No Hope
Twenty years ago, it was claimed that caring people had began to suffer the guilt that accompanied "compassion fatigue", the post-Live Aid inability to mobilise against the continued want in the Third World. However much it mattered, it was deemed impossible to maintain public empathy as donors began to refocus upon concerns in their own lives.
I think the same is happening in the Middle East, where Third World Bully Israel over-reacts and pounds its poorer neighbours in a tedious spat between cultures that will destroy innocent lives needlessly. It's not as though western liberals don't care anymore, or that there isn't the will to do something about it: I just think that people have sussed that there is no end to this conflict as none of the protagonists want it to end. The conclusion reached therefore, is to focus on what CAN be achieved in the world.
When I hear Israeli ministers—the elected representatives of a democracy—shouting at BBC interviewers because they've been asked to account for themselves, or listening to Palestinian mothers saying how proud they would be if their son became a suicide bomber, then I cannot imagine how such a fucked up region could ever reach an equilibrium. And I suspect that this notion has begun to influence otherwise positive, radical thinkers into creating a blind spot regarding the sensory over-load coming from the Middle-East. More people died in one suicide bombing in Baghdad yesterday than at the hands of the Israelis. This will continue tomorrow, and so on.
So what can we do? A plague on both their houses?
Maybe we draw breath and consider the folly of concentrating on what's happening now, and begin to consider the ridiculous possibility that there's a 0.1% chance that, in time, SOMETHING, (possibly something unimaginable to our generation) may shift in the history of the region that will make the current options untenable to the protagonists. It is therefore everyone's responsibility to ensure that that 0.1% chance is not obstructed, because it's the only one on the table.
Personally, I feel that the world's fate has fallen into the hands of a those that never matured beyond the mindset of 14 yr old boys, who "ain't gonna be dissed, init!" as the work of centuries of western enlightenment is about to disappear down the toilet because it has too many shades of grey for their polarised world.
And the only superpower available is in the hands of a certifiable idiot.
I think the same is happening in the Middle East, where Third World Bully Israel over-reacts and pounds its poorer neighbours in a tedious spat between cultures that will destroy innocent lives needlessly. It's not as though western liberals don't care anymore, or that there isn't the will to do something about it: I just think that people have sussed that there is no end to this conflict as none of the protagonists want it to end. The conclusion reached therefore, is to focus on what CAN be achieved in the world.
When I hear Israeli ministers—the elected representatives of a democracy—shouting at BBC interviewers because they've been asked to account for themselves, or listening to Palestinian mothers saying how proud they would be if their son became a suicide bomber, then I cannot imagine how such a fucked up region could ever reach an equilibrium. And I suspect that this notion has begun to influence otherwise positive, radical thinkers into creating a blind spot regarding the sensory over-load coming from the Middle-East. More people died in one suicide bombing in Baghdad yesterday than at the hands of the Israelis. This will continue tomorrow, and so on.
So what can we do? A plague on both their houses?
Maybe we draw breath and consider the folly of concentrating on what's happening now, and begin to consider the ridiculous possibility that there's a 0.1% chance that, in time, SOMETHING, (possibly something unimaginable to our generation) may shift in the history of the region that will make the current options untenable to the protagonists. It is therefore everyone's responsibility to ensure that that 0.1% chance is not obstructed, because it's the only one on the table.
Personally, I feel that the world's fate has fallen into the hands of a those that never matured beyond the mindset of 14 yr old boys, who "ain't gonna be dissed, init!" as the work of centuries of western enlightenment is about to disappear down the toilet because it has too many shades of grey for their polarised world.
And the only superpower available is in the hands of a certifiable idiot.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Wyatting Revisited, a reader responds
The NSSB has received correspondence re: "Wyatting" (see below), the misuse of jukeboxes for purposes of dissent/amusement. (The author has withheld their identity, but from the information available, I suspect it is either actor Hugh Grant, or former Tory leader William Hague.)
They write:
"In my day the weapon of choice was 'Goldfinger', which for some reason in the late 1970s was still present on 2 jukeboxes in Oxford, viz. the one in the Bulldog and the one in the Lamb and Flag. There were still grants then, so it could be played repeatedly until someone large at the bar noticed who was feeding the machine.
PS What the hell is an 'internet jukebox'?"
(Correspondence ends)
The discovery of vestigal hits on neglected jukeboxes was the topic of a colleague of mine, who informed me earlier today that, as a younger man in the mid 1980s, (well, we were ALL younger then) he discovered Lieutenant Pigeon's "Mouldy Old Dough" on a jukebox in a Bermondsey pub. Naturally, he selected it for play eight times, but left after the first spin, complaining about the quality of the music in that gaff.
For those overseas: causing bother to the pub-goers of Bermondsey in the 1980s was like wearing the Star of David on a Beirut firing range, not to be recommended. Tasty work Dave!
And thankyou, "anonymous", this blog accepts all correspondence, on any topic, but cannot offer payment.
They write:
"In my day the weapon of choice was 'Goldfinger', which for some reason in the late 1970s was still present on 2 jukeboxes in Oxford, viz. the one in the Bulldog and the one in the Lamb and Flag. There were still grants then, so it could be played repeatedly until someone large at the bar noticed who was feeding the machine.
PS What the hell is an 'internet jukebox'?"
(Correspondence ends)
The discovery of vestigal hits on neglected jukeboxes was the topic of a colleague of mine, who informed me earlier today that, as a younger man in the mid 1980s, (well, we were ALL younger then) he discovered Lieutenant Pigeon's "Mouldy Old Dough" on a jukebox in a Bermondsey pub. Naturally, he selected it for play eight times, but left after the first spin, complaining about the quality of the music in that gaff.
For those overseas: causing bother to the pub-goers of Bermondsey in the 1980s was like wearing the Star of David on a Beirut firing range, not to be recommended. Tasty work Dave!
And thankyou, "anonymous", this blog accepts all correspondence, on any topic, but cannot offer payment.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Italian Shame is Deflation's Gain
With the World Cup behind us, we now face the pre-season speculation of who goes where, as clubs, managers & players jostle for advantage on the merry-go round of European football. Yet as the "Van Nistelrooy to Real" style hype builds—and if you believe the tabloids, Real are going to sign EVERYBODY—one must surely question the impact of the Italian cheating scenario, which, with the punishment of Juventas & Milan, has not only removed twenty per cent of Europe's big clubs from the transfer market (no-one will want to go there), but has flooded the market with talent.
This surplus could only undermine the circus with an impact on transfer fees, or at least WAGES. Unless, of course, Chelsea & Real do buy the surplus, at the asking price, to stop their opponents buying them, and then put everyone on the bench for next season. Feasible I suppose, and for someone like Fabio Cannavaro an opportunity to take a final big wage in exchange for an early retirement.
Those most affected, however, are the journeymen like Hasselbaink (and their agents), who will find their wage demands just a little bit more difficult to fulfill, as their worth declines in proportion to the surplus. Well, let's hope so.
This surplus could only undermine the circus with an impact on transfer fees, or at least WAGES. Unless, of course, Chelsea & Real do buy the surplus, at the asking price, to stop their opponents buying them, and then put everyone on the bench for next season. Feasible I suppose, and for someone like Fabio Cannavaro an opportunity to take a final big wage in exchange for an early retirement.
Those most affected, however, are the journeymen like Hasselbaink (and their agents), who will find their wage demands just a little bit more difficult to fulfill, as their worth declines in proportion to the surplus. Well, let's hope so.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Summer Killer Wasp Invasion!
Yes it's a quiet week for London's Evening Standard, as tonight's billboard scrawl indicates.
Mayor Ken Livingstone hasn't threatened to tax middle class car owners and the RMT hasn't planned Tube strikes based on European Union influenced human rights.
"Oh well, we'll have to dust off the Killer Wasp thing again."
What we all need to know is what is Mayor Ken going to do about it?
Mayor Ken Livingstone hasn't threatened to tax middle class car owners and the RMT hasn't planned Tube strikes based on European Union influenced human rights.
"Oh well, we'll have to dust off the Killer Wasp thing again."
What we all need to know is what is Mayor Ken going to do about it?
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Zinadine Zidane, Political Football
It appears that Iran's politicians have seen an opportunity to exploit the "ZZ Incident" for their gain. Ho Hum
HERE
HERE
New York Madrid London Mumbai
Mumbai transport system is the latest to be targeted.
As the irritation of unthinking obscurantism continues, another urban space is disfigured and modernism takes another hit.
And now we're running out of things to say, as the obvious is becoming a cliché from overuse.
The Prime Minister of India declares that "No-one can make India kneel" and insists that those affected reacted with "courage & humanism". A commuter declares that "I will go on the train today again. I am not afraid of death".
So much the same as we've heard amongst the previous attrocities.
During WWII, both RAF Bomber Command & the Luftwaffe were encouraged to target the opposition's civilian populations, under the belief that it was possible to break the opponent's public moral and thus shorten the war. Equally, both sides bought into the notion that BEING BOMBED bred resilience, and brought out the best in the native people. Neither side saw any contradiction in this, convinced as they were that it was the OTHERS that lacked the moral fibre.
It appears that the citizens of the world are much alike, and therefore they need to lean on the same rhetoric to make sense of the atrocities before them. Equally, our young radicals share a passion for the rhetoric that suggests they too will emerge redeemed.
Maybe we should find an alternative to rhetoric.
As the irritation of unthinking obscurantism continues, another urban space is disfigured and modernism takes another hit.
And now we're running out of things to say, as the obvious is becoming a cliché from overuse.
The Prime Minister of India declares that "No-one can make India kneel" and insists that those affected reacted with "courage & humanism". A commuter declares that "I will go on the train today again. I am not afraid of death".
So much the same as we've heard amongst the previous attrocities.
During WWII, both RAF Bomber Command & the Luftwaffe were encouraged to target the opposition's civilian populations, under the belief that it was possible to break the opponent's public moral and thus shorten the war. Equally, both sides bought into the notion that BEING BOMBED bred resilience, and brought out the best in the native people. Neither side saw any contradiction in this, convinced as they were that it was the OTHERS that lacked the moral fibre.
It appears that the citizens of the world are much alike, and therefore they need to lean on the same rhetoric to make sense of the atrocities before them. Equally, our young radicals share a passion for the rhetoric that suggests they too will emerge redeemed.
Maybe we should find an alternative to rhetoric.
World Cup Autopsy: Zidane Speaks
OK, so Zinedine's issued a qualified apology for the head-butt, but has not disclosed what Materazzi said.
Lip readers are daggers-drawn about what passed between them, so I think I'm going to have to clear this up for once and for all:
They grapple, Materazzi is a little too rough.
ZZ: "You wait 'til I get you home"
M: "I'm not coming home"
ZZ: "What do you mean? I've bought Tiramasou!"
They begin to walk forward.
M: "No, I won't be coming home again. I've met someone else; he's an interior designer. He's going to teach me pilates."
ZZ: "You cheap slut"
Zidane begins to walk away.
M (piqued): "I never lost that sweater you bought me for Christmas. I lied: I BURNT IT, it was horrible. I HATED IT!"
Zidane stops, turns, OVER-REACTS.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Lip readers are daggers-drawn about what passed between them, so I think I'm going to have to clear this up for once and for all:
They grapple, Materazzi is a little too rough.
ZZ: "You wait 'til I get you home"
M: "I'm not coming home"
ZZ: "What do you mean? I've bought Tiramasou!"
They begin to walk forward.
M: "No, I won't be coming home again. I've met someone else; he's an interior designer. He's going to teach me pilates."
ZZ: "You cheap slut"
Zidane begins to walk away.
M (piqued): "I never lost that sweater you bought me for Christmas. I lied: I BURNT IT, it was horrible. I HATED IT!"
Zidane stops, turns, OVER-REACTS.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
A Right Wyatt
I understand from the Guardian that people are "Wyatting" in pubs these days. HERE
This refers to the practice of trawling internet jukeboxes in pubs, with the purpose of choosing tracks considered inappropriate for the setting. Hence these are usually long "difficult" works, such as that by Brian Eno or Robert Wyatt. The article debates whether this is some kind of statement, or just a childish prank.
Well, sod "Wyatting", I didn't even know that there were internet jukeboxes! (Although, it does explain the playing of the Argentinian national anthem in the Nelson the other night, particularly as the version appeared to be from circa 1928)
And anyway, when I was doing this kind of thing thirty years ago, it was called taking the piss: just one of many tedious practical jokes to which teenage boys are attracted.
Of course, as far as the pre-internet options were concerned, there wasn't a vast opportunity for dissent back in the 1970s, as the jukeboxes would only hold something like 100 singles of dubious quality, and these ranging from "Distant Drums" to "Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep".
In fact, the only record available for subversive purposes was "Sultanesque" . This was an otherwise obscure B-Side of Roxy Music's "Love is the Drug", an early experiment in "electronic" music. This comprised of a long throbbing intro, with Bryan Ferry playing a single note sawtooth wave, manually turning the knob on an early synthesizer, producing a sound not unlike the electric current running through a badly wired guest house. This lacklustre din continues for over a minute until a simplistic "beat" arrives, followed by, well, little else. For 5 minutes & 24 seconds.
In the interest of research, I've just played my copy, and with the passage of time it doesn't sound too different to a lot of early electronic music of the period, (usually practiced by the Germans, and "avant gardists"). However, back then, hardly anyone had been exposed to that kind of thing outside of art-schools, and it wouldn't be unfeasible if some who had purchased the A-Side on the strength of its radio performances or it's position at No. 2 in the charts, may well have played the B-side and concluded that the disk was faulty and needed to be returned.
Thus, armed with my only option, I would sit in the Rockley Arms, awaiting my moment to squidge across the beer-soaked carpet to the juke box, where I would deposit the freshly minted decimal coinage in the slot, select the track by punching the clunky buttons, before returning to my rickety seat to admire my work.
To the clients of that nicotine-stained boozer, the 5 minutes & 24 seconds that would follow was never considered educational or enlightening. No one said "Hmm; interesting, this could prove to be a prescient moment in popular music", or even "the brave thing to do would be to release this as an A-side!"
No, what they would actually say was "BLOODY HELL, WHO PUT THIS SHIT ON?" or "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!" or even—amongst the more mannered patrons—"Excuse me Landlord, could you turn this down, it's giving my lady wife a headache!"
And yet to me it was hilarious. There they were one moment, swigging their Watney's Red Barrel, moaning about the England football team, the perils of immigration and their disappointment with Brentford Nylons, whilst not really listening to "Hold Back the Night" and "Tie a Yellow Ribbon". Then the room would be slowly, and initially imperceptively, infused with a sonic fug, which would only slowly seep into their consciousness.
Conversations would stall, brows would furrow, and geezers would turn about in their seats looking in the direction of the Juke Box: possibly expecting to see an electrician sorting out the apparently poor earthing. The initial confusion would give way to disgruntlement, which in turn would rapidly develop into an opprobrium of the "WHICH ONE OF YOU CUNTS DID THIS" variety.
I didn't need Cannabis, the response of the drinkers to that track could keep me giggling senselessly for months.
Mind you, I only witnessed this the once, as I was very much of the belief that practical jokes were not about schadenfreude (although I didn't know there was a name for it back then), and that it should be suffice to merely set up the circumstances of a prank, and then leave the hapless recipients to their fate*. I found the concept of their plight far more agreeable than the vulgarity of witnessing it first hand. From then onwards, I would merely visit the juke box as we were leaving a bar, dial up "Sultanesque" and exit, smirking for the rest of the evening at the confusion to come.
*I went too far with this once, when, attempting to smoke bomb the Red Lion, I quickly realised that the Fumite I had just ignited was NOT appropriate for a prank, designed as it was to help plumbers detect the extent of blockages in flues. As the rank, over-bearing odour belched from the fizzing tablet atop the cistern I struggled, Napoleon Solo-like, with the lavatory windows, only to find that Jack, the world's meanest landlord, had NAILED them shut. Choking and blind, my eyes streaming with tears I ran into the bar and gestured to my (unknowing) cohorts that it was time to leave. We donned coats and made our way to the door as brows furrowed and the atmosphere grew acrid as the locals began to rub their eyes.
After spending the rest of the evening at the Potter's Arms, it was decided to risk the Red Lion on the way home. We arrived in time for last orders, just as a police car pulled away.
Apparently, my "prank" had cleared the pub with the impact of an early 70s counter-terrorism raid. The air was still viscious, and those few stragglers left stood around squinting through blood-shot eyes, sporadically coughing, and unable taste their drinks (but then, in the Red Lion, not a bad thing). Jack couldn't prove anything, but his grimace that night as he served me was more menacing than the usual distain.
Of course, we knew how to make our own entertainment in those days.
This refers to the practice of trawling internet jukeboxes in pubs, with the purpose of choosing tracks considered inappropriate for the setting. Hence these are usually long "difficult" works, such as that by Brian Eno or Robert Wyatt. The article debates whether this is some kind of statement, or just a childish prank.
Well, sod "Wyatting", I didn't even know that there were internet jukeboxes! (Although, it does explain the playing of the Argentinian national anthem in the Nelson the other night, particularly as the version appeared to be from circa 1928)
And anyway, when I was doing this kind of thing thirty years ago, it was called taking the piss: just one of many tedious practical jokes to which teenage boys are attracted.
Of course, as far as the pre-internet options were concerned, there wasn't a vast opportunity for dissent back in the 1970s, as the jukeboxes would only hold something like 100 singles of dubious quality, and these ranging from "Distant Drums" to "Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep".
In fact, the only record available for subversive purposes was "Sultanesque" . This was an otherwise obscure B-Side of Roxy Music's "Love is the Drug", an early experiment in "electronic" music. This comprised of a long throbbing intro, with Bryan Ferry playing a single note sawtooth wave, manually turning the knob on an early synthesizer, producing a sound not unlike the electric current running through a badly wired guest house. This lacklustre din continues for over a minute until a simplistic "beat" arrives, followed by, well, little else. For 5 minutes & 24 seconds.
In the interest of research, I've just played my copy, and with the passage of time it doesn't sound too different to a lot of early electronic music of the period, (usually practiced by the Germans, and "avant gardists"). However, back then, hardly anyone had been exposed to that kind of thing outside of art-schools, and it wouldn't be unfeasible if some who had purchased the A-Side on the strength of its radio performances or it's position at No. 2 in the charts, may well have played the B-side and concluded that the disk was faulty and needed to be returned.
Thus, armed with my only option, I would sit in the Rockley Arms, awaiting my moment to squidge across the beer-soaked carpet to the juke box, where I would deposit the freshly minted decimal coinage in the slot, select the track by punching the clunky buttons, before returning to my rickety seat to admire my work.
To the clients of that nicotine-stained boozer, the 5 minutes & 24 seconds that would follow was never considered educational or enlightening. No one said "Hmm; interesting, this could prove to be a prescient moment in popular music", or even "the brave thing to do would be to release this as an A-side!"
No, what they would actually say was "BLOODY HELL, WHO PUT THIS SHIT ON?" or "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!" or even—amongst the more mannered patrons—"Excuse me Landlord, could you turn this down, it's giving my lady wife a headache!"
And yet to me it was hilarious. There they were one moment, swigging their Watney's Red Barrel, moaning about the England football team, the perils of immigration and their disappointment with Brentford Nylons, whilst not really listening to "Hold Back the Night" and "Tie a Yellow Ribbon". Then the room would be slowly, and initially imperceptively, infused with a sonic fug, which would only slowly seep into their consciousness.
Conversations would stall, brows would furrow, and geezers would turn about in their seats looking in the direction of the Juke Box: possibly expecting to see an electrician sorting out the apparently poor earthing. The initial confusion would give way to disgruntlement, which in turn would rapidly develop into an opprobrium of the "WHICH ONE OF YOU CUNTS DID THIS" variety.
I didn't need Cannabis, the response of the drinkers to that track could keep me giggling senselessly for months.
Mind you, I only witnessed this the once, as I was very much of the belief that practical jokes were not about schadenfreude (although I didn't know there was a name for it back then), and that it should be suffice to merely set up the circumstances of a prank, and then leave the hapless recipients to their fate*. I found the concept of their plight far more agreeable than the vulgarity of witnessing it first hand. From then onwards, I would merely visit the juke box as we were leaving a bar, dial up "Sultanesque" and exit, smirking for the rest of the evening at the confusion to come.
*I went too far with this once, when, attempting to smoke bomb the Red Lion, I quickly realised that the Fumite I had just ignited was NOT appropriate for a prank, designed as it was to help plumbers detect the extent of blockages in flues. As the rank, over-bearing odour belched from the fizzing tablet atop the cistern I struggled, Napoleon Solo-like, with the lavatory windows, only to find that Jack, the world's meanest landlord, had NAILED them shut. Choking and blind, my eyes streaming with tears I ran into the bar and gestured to my (unknowing) cohorts that it was time to leave. We donned coats and made our way to the door as brows furrowed and the atmosphere grew acrid as the locals began to rub their eyes.
After spending the rest of the evening at the Potter's Arms, it was decided to risk the Red Lion on the way home. We arrived in time for last orders, just as a police car pulled away.
Apparently, my "prank" had cleared the pub with the impact of an early 70s counter-terrorism raid. The air was still viscious, and those few stragglers left stood around squinting through blood-shot eyes, sporadically coughing, and unable taste their drinks (but then, in the Red Lion, not a bad thing). Jack couldn't prove anything, but his grimace that night as he served me was more menacing than the usual distain.
Of course, we knew how to make our own entertainment in those days.
Monday, July 10, 2006
World Cup 2006: Hey Materazzi, Shuddupya Face!
And so the great speculation begins: what did Materazzi say in the World Cup final that so incensed Zidane, that it would lead to the maestro's disgrace.
All theories appear to revolve around aspersion made against Zidane's Mother/Sister/Boyfriend.
Apparently "Lip Readers" have got involved, although no-one's saying what language the Italian was using when he berated the Spanish-based Algerian.
One thing is certain: whatever is was that could produce such vehemence in Zidane, IT HAD TO BE TRUE!
Apparently Zidane has a Golden Ball.
All theories appear to revolve around aspersion made against Zidane's Mother/Sister/Boyfriend.
Apparently "Lip Readers" have got involved, although no-one's saying what language the Italian was using when he berated the Spanish-based Algerian.
One thing is certain: whatever is was that could produce such vehemence in Zidane, IT HAD TO BE TRUE!
Apparently Zidane has a Golden Ball.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
World Cup Final: Frankly, I Feel Let Down
The French couldn't possibly score in open play, but at least went for it, and edged it overall. The Italians' performance grew consistently laclustre as the game went on, so I feel slightly disappointed for the Frogs. And let's face, a world cup won on penalties isn't really a win.
And that was never a penalty, although Malouda's fall in the second half on almost certainly qualified: which make's you wonder if the referee saw footage of his error at half-time and wasn't prepared to make the same mistake twice.
Extra time was merely half an hour of the Italians running the clock down.
A turning point in football history:
Interestingly, the Zidane sending-off wouldn't have happened if it was left to the refereeing staff on the pitch. None of them noticed it (and why should they, the ball was elsewhere)l, but clearly FIFA stepped in, and aware that the biggest global audience ever had witnessed what had happened, realised that they couldn't let it go. We still don't have refereeing by camera in football, but that was clearly the first unofficial decision from off-field.
Henry's not up to much is he? Just an Andy Cole with flair? Flash against the crap defences, nothing against the best.
However, the fact that Coco the Barthez had nothing to cock up in goal said too much about Italy's failure to turn up.
Shame the French couldn't grab it in extra time, I doubt if a French side will reach a final again.
And that was never a penalty, although Malouda's fall in the second half on almost certainly qualified: which make's you wonder if the referee saw footage of his error at half-time and wasn't prepared to make the same mistake twice.
Extra time was merely half an hour of the Italians running the clock down.
A turning point in football history:
Interestingly, the Zidane sending-off wouldn't have happened if it was left to the refereeing staff on the pitch. None of them noticed it (and why should they, the ball was elsewhere)l, but clearly FIFA stepped in, and aware that the biggest global audience ever had witnessed what had happened, realised that they couldn't let it go. We still don't have refereeing by camera in football, but that was clearly the first unofficial decision from off-field.
Henry's not up to much is he? Just an Andy Cole with flair? Flash against the crap defences, nothing against the best.
However, the fact that Coco the Barthez had nothing to cock up in goal said too much about Italy's failure to turn up.
Shame the French couldn't grab it in extra time, I doubt if a French side will reach a final again.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
The World Cup Final 2006
I can't think of a better final than France v. Italy.
The French, faltering, finally got it together, dispatching the over-achieving Spain, the perennially over-rated Brazil, and the over-acting Portugese, with an almost JUST ease. Yes, Henry has sullied his reputation, possibly for ever, with the cheating stuff, but Zidane, having shrugged off his reputation as a fading giant, has rediscovered an almost teenage playfulness which suggests that someone took him to one side and told him to forget the responsibility and play for the sake of it.
Italy, coming in under the radar, despite an incredible unbeaten run, have benefitted from the media's myopia, where the focus has been restricted to the cliched reverence of Brazil, Argentina & Germany. (Except in England, where Sven's over-paid lather-boys were believed capable of winning with naive public devotion alone).
Although they lack a world-class striker, the Azzuri have everything else and they're playing like a side that really has a point to prove. They run, they tackle. They support each other, they're a team and they will win because of it.
Yes, France have Zidane, but he probably had his moment against Brazil. Henry? Actually not that great against real defences, and the Italians have the ultimate defence, even without Nesta.
I hope the Italians don't see the final as reason to rediscover their traditional conservatism. If they approach this game as they have the others in this tournament they can roll the French over. I predict 3-0.
Forza Italia!
The French, faltering, finally got it together, dispatching the over-achieving Spain, the perennially over-rated Brazil, and the over-acting Portugese, with an almost JUST ease. Yes, Henry has sullied his reputation, possibly for ever, with the cheating stuff, but Zidane, having shrugged off his reputation as a fading giant, has rediscovered an almost teenage playfulness which suggests that someone took him to one side and told him to forget the responsibility and play for the sake of it.
Italy, coming in under the radar, despite an incredible unbeaten run, have benefitted from the media's myopia, where the focus has been restricted to the cliched reverence of Brazil, Argentina & Germany. (Except in England, where Sven's over-paid lather-boys were believed capable of winning with naive public devotion alone).
Although they lack a world-class striker, the Azzuri have everything else and they're playing like a side that really has a point to prove. They run, they tackle. They support each other, they're a team and they will win because of it.
Yes, France have Zidane, but he probably had his moment against Brazil. Henry? Actually not that great against real defences, and the Italians have the ultimate defence, even without Nesta.
I hope the Italians don't see the final as reason to rediscover their traditional conservatism. If they approach this game as they have the others in this tournament they can roll the French over. I predict 3-0.
Forza Italia!
Let's Make 7th July Last Year's News
I'm actually old enough to remember life before the one minute silence, let alone life before the two minute silence.
Yes, there was armistace day, when former servicemen assembled in Whitehall and remembered their wars, but that was as far as it went. And I can remember as a youngster, being told by my brother that there had been a time when the whole country, in factories, rail stations et al, would observe a minute's silence. But that had been a previous generation, our generation was the fortunate one; we would not be sacrificed in war and no one would have to mourn our wasted lives, collective grief could become a thing of the past.
Admittedly, there may have been an occasion at a football ground, when a respected servant of the club was honoured by a minute silence, although this was typically punctuated by the hooligans amongst the opposition support.
But then somebody realised that the cause of cheap nationalism could be forwarded by re-inventing the one minute silence, in the pretence that we needed to thank a previous generation for their efforts.
Please accept my sincerity when I state that I personally believe that we owe a massive debt to my parent's generation. I also believe, however, that gratitude should take the form of a decent pension, access to a comprehensive health service and a right to live securely, before we even consider any of the more token forms of gratitude.
I suspect, therefore, that it was the Tories, having set about destroying the quality of life for the elderly, who hit on the jingoist ruse of papering over the cracks by "honouring" the older generation in the highly symbolic—AND ENTIRELY FREE—one minute silence.
But once people had become inured to the practice, it wasn't considered enough to stand for one minute. Apparently that seemed disrespectful, so we got the TWO minute silence, because we all needed a little longing to show how much we care.
But it wasn't just for those war veterans anymore: no, ANYONE could qualify. We became a victim culture. Under touchy-feelie New Labour, we're all super-sensitive. To be human is to feel an other's pain. And it's not enough to feel it; it is necessary to SHOW it.
7th July 2005 was a horrible day. My own experience, however slight in comparison to those who genuinely experienced those events, was too close for comfort, and I found it deeply moving. I willingly took part in the silence that took place a week later, standing with thousands of others in the eerie calm besides Kings Cross, untroubled by the tourists who persisted of wheeling their suitcases through us, as though they were witnessing some eccentric lunch-time custom amongst the locals.
Yet here we are a year later, and we're having another go.
Radio 4's today programme was almost entirely dedicated to digging over the ashes of last year's tragedy. The newspapers reprinted last years photographs, and reinterviewed the victims. And once more we're asked to observe the silence.
Why? How much respect can we bear? Is victimhood something to revere?
Why don't we stick by the rhetoric AND CARRY ON IN DEFIANCE in the face of terrorism?
The more we show how much they hurt us, the greater the value of their actions, the greater their effectiveness at hitting at the society they detest. We should be countering this by actively moving on, putting our tragedies behind us.
Twentieth Century warfare was fought on a massive scale, particularly in terms of the Great War. "The Lost Generation" that perished in that conflict had a profound effect upon their contemporaries left behind to pick up the pieces. Hundreds of thousands were slaughtered, to the effect that every village, every factory, every railway station, had a member taken. The Somme alone claimed 20,000 souls in one day. It is no wonder, then, that the survivors left felt the need to grieve together; everybody had lost someone. It was genuinely a bid to stop it happening again.
Terrorism is wicked, and frightening in its random, pointless violence. It is not, however, anything near the social disaster that the Great War was. Neither are any of the other tragedy's of our age, however hurtful they feel.
In an age when it seemingly only takes one scouser to trip on the litter strewn streets of Merseyside to send the people of Liverpool into a grieving frenzy, (and the florists off to the Mercedes dealerships with their earnings), maybe it's time to ask WHY we need to do this. Are we really that sensitive? Or are we all a little bit too comfortable to feel good about ourselves anymore?
Let's toughen up a bit and take a leaf from our parent's generation; keep it to yourself. I'd rather bottle it up than bottle-it any day.
Yes, there was armistace day, when former servicemen assembled in Whitehall and remembered their wars, but that was as far as it went. And I can remember as a youngster, being told by my brother that there had been a time when the whole country, in factories, rail stations et al, would observe a minute's silence. But that had been a previous generation, our generation was the fortunate one; we would not be sacrificed in war and no one would have to mourn our wasted lives, collective grief could become a thing of the past.
Admittedly, there may have been an occasion at a football ground, when a respected servant of the club was honoured by a minute silence, although this was typically punctuated by the hooligans amongst the opposition support.
But then somebody realised that the cause of cheap nationalism could be forwarded by re-inventing the one minute silence, in the pretence that we needed to thank a previous generation for their efforts.
Please accept my sincerity when I state that I personally believe that we owe a massive debt to my parent's generation. I also believe, however, that gratitude should take the form of a decent pension, access to a comprehensive health service and a right to live securely, before we even consider any of the more token forms of gratitude.
I suspect, therefore, that it was the Tories, having set about destroying the quality of life for the elderly, who hit on the jingoist ruse of papering over the cracks by "honouring" the older generation in the highly symbolic—AND ENTIRELY FREE—one minute silence.
But once people had become inured to the practice, it wasn't considered enough to stand for one minute. Apparently that seemed disrespectful, so we got the TWO minute silence, because we all needed a little longing to show how much we care.
But it wasn't just for those war veterans anymore: no, ANYONE could qualify. We became a victim culture. Under touchy-feelie New Labour, we're all super-sensitive. To be human is to feel an other's pain. And it's not enough to feel it; it is necessary to SHOW it.
7th July 2005 was a horrible day. My own experience, however slight in comparison to those who genuinely experienced those events, was too close for comfort, and I found it deeply moving. I willingly took part in the silence that took place a week later, standing with thousands of others in the eerie calm besides Kings Cross, untroubled by the tourists who persisted of wheeling their suitcases through us, as though they were witnessing some eccentric lunch-time custom amongst the locals.
Yet here we are a year later, and we're having another go.
Radio 4's today programme was almost entirely dedicated to digging over the ashes of last year's tragedy. The newspapers reprinted last years photographs, and reinterviewed the victims. And once more we're asked to observe the silence.
Why? How much respect can we bear? Is victimhood something to revere?
Why don't we stick by the rhetoric AND CARRY ON IN DEFIANCE in the face of terrorism?
The more we show how much they hurt us, the greater the value of their actions, the greater their effectiveness at hitting at the society they detest. We should be countering this by actively moving on, putting our tragedies behind us.
Twentieth Century warfare was fought on a massive scale, particularly in terms of the Great War. "The Lost Generation" that perished in that conflict had a profound effect upon their contemporaries left behind to pick up the pieces. Hundreds of thousands were slaughtered, to the effect that every village, every factory, every railway station, had a member taken. The Somme alone claimed 20,000 souls in one day. It is no wonder, then, that the survivors left felt the need to grieve together; everybody had lost someone. It was genuinely a bid to stop it happening again.
Terrorism is wicked, and frightening in its random, pointless violence. It is not, however, anything near the social disaster that the Great War was. Neither are any of the other tragedy's of our age, however hurtful they feel.
In an age when it seemingly only takes one scouser to trip on the litter strewn streets of Merseyside to send the people of Liverpool into a grieving frenzy, (and the florists off to the Mercedes dealerships with their earnings), maybe it's time to ask WHY we need to do this. Are we really that sensitive? Or are we all a little bit too comfortable to feel good about ourselves anymore?
Let's toughen up a bit and take a leaf from our parent's generation; keep it to yourself. I'd rather bottle it up than bottle-it any day.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
The Press Continue Baiting John Prescott
In London, billboards for the Evening Standard read:
Prescott; the five sex questions.
Surely "who, what, where, when and WHY?
Prescott; the five sex questions.
Surely "who, what, where, when and WHY?
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
World Cup: Portugal Dive Out
As Earl says: you do bad things & bad things happen to you.
Of course the penalty they conceded wasn't a penalty, but that's karma.
Now tell Christine Ronaldo.
Nice to know too, that both finalists qualified with wins, and not penalties.
Barthez is crap though! Just wait 'til the Italians get at him!
Viva Italia!
Of course the penalty they conceded wasn't a penalty, but that's karma.
Now tell Christine Ronaldo.
Nice to know too, that both finalists qualified with wins, and not penalties.
Barthez is crap though! Just wait 'til the Italians get at him!
Viva Italia!
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
The NatWest Three
Three British men are fighting extradiction to the US, linked to the Enron scandal.
I don't think that this is getting the coverage that it should.
Nobody likes smart arsed businessmen, and my first reaction was not to care, but look closer.
They're accused of a crime which took place in Britain, on a British company, where all the witnesses are British.
Their treatment in the US would not be as lenient as here, and the sentence far more excessive.
The US is using 'terror' legislation to bully the world, and this government is not willing to stand up for this country's sovereignty.
It doesn't matter whether these guys are crooks or not, they should be subject to (and under the protection of) the British law, and no other.
I can't believe that we need to turn to Rees-Mogg to spell it out, but read about it here:
dailyreckoning.co.uk
I don't think that this is getting the coverage that it should.
Nobody likes smart arsed businessmen, and my first reaction was not to care, but look closer.
They're accused of a crime which took place in Britain, on a British company, where all the witnesses are British.
Their treatment in the US would not be as lenient as here, and the sentence far more excessive.
The US is using 'terror' legislation to bully the world, and this government is not willing to stand up for this country's sovereignty.
It doesn't matter whether these guys are crooks or not, they should be subject to (and under the protection of) the British law, and no other.
I can't believe that we need to turn to Rees-Mogg to spell it out, but read about it here:
dailyreckoning.co.uk
Monday, July 03, 2006
The Tabloids Defend Rooney
And so the great rationalisation begins: apparently England were cheated.
Rooney's sending off was nothing to do with his stamping on an opponents goolies IN FRONT OF THE REFEREE, it was Ronaldo's intervention!
Otherwise, Rooney would have stayed on, England would have miraculously found their form in the last half an hour against the cheatin' Portugeezers and we'd have gone on to sweep past the French on our way to beating the Hun.
My point: England scored five goals in five games, and one of those was an own goal.
They were rubbish, and as long as the commercial world continues to whip up the flag of St. George in blind support of the patently obvious mediocrity, and the FA believe the jingoism, then there is no hope of English football creating a world beating side.
It's the Brian Clough conundrum. The right man, but the wrong board. As long as people allow themselves to be deceived by the false prophets who say otherwise, we're doomed.
Rooney's sending off was nothing to do with his stamping on an opponents goolies IN FRONT OF THE REFEREE, it was Ronaldo's intervention!
Otherwise, Rooney would have stayed on, England would have miraculously found their form in the last half an hour against the cheatin' Portugeezers and we'd have gone on to sweep past the French on our way to beating the Hun.
My point: England scored five goals in five games, and one of those was an own goal.
They were rubbish, and as long as the commercial world continues to whip up the flag of St. George in blind support of the patently obvious mediocrity, and the FA believe the jingoism, then there is no hope of English football creating a world beating side.
It's the Brian Clough conundrum. The right man, but the wrong board. As long as people allow themselves to be deceived by the false prophets who say otherwise, we're doomed.
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