Market v. Democracy

I appreciate that this post is 26 years late, and the arguments have been had, but I think that after all this time we should be able to do something about it.

I'm not a fan of advertising or the commercialisation of society, and I'm reluctant to support any campaign, but I am willling to be amused by ambush marketing, and particularly in the context of our brave new world's willingness to allow Mammon to buy our sporting jamborees.

The Bavaria brewery's low-budget / high impact lager ladies campaign has to be applauded if it highlights the vulgarity of sovereign nations allowing themselves to be bullied by the global corps into legislating on their behalf. Legislating!

According to the Daily Telegraph:

South Africa introduced legislation to provide protection for Fifa's sponsors, who have paid an estimated $1.2billion to be associated with the tournament. With sponsors providing a third of the revenue from the event protection is seen as crucial to maintaining the value of the rights. The UK has introduced similar legislation to protect the 2012 London Olympics.

To think that South African has only recently shaken off the totalitarian hand cuffs, I think it insane that they should be so keen to re-adopt them so freely.

We took our eye off the ball: We think we're fighting Big Brother, but it's Big Mac that's dictating who the dissidents are, and instructing our courts what the charges should be.

Shouldn't we be able to vote against this?

The World Turned Upside Down

I'm a tolerant man, as you know, but.

I've just been downstairs, and, on looking into the living room, witnessed the following:

To my right; an ironing basket, untouched. In ironing board, in place, with an iron in position at readiness.

To my left; my partner on the sofa watching Top Gear.

She didn't even look up.

Top Gear I ask you.

I mean.....

Top Gear!

There was football on the otherside for christs sake!

I'm come back upstairs to compose myself before taking it further.

North London Now

Somewhere
out
there,
is
a
large
black
cat
refusing
to
come
in

Dear Director General

I once worked with a young woman from New Zealand whose accent was so extreme that she actually talked out of the side of mouth, contorting her lips to the right in order to do so. You had to stand next to her to hear what she said.

I remember her solely because of the way she hated Britain. She hated everything about the mother country, but what she hated most of all, she hated the weather. And she felt that the weather was clearly the fault of the Britons.

I am reminded of this on the news that the BBC has received 545 complaints about the vuvuzela, the idiotic and insufferable novelty horn which is ruining the World Cup.

Like the weather, the vuvuzela has to be someone's fault, and who more appropriate than the BBC?

I didn't pay my licence fee to listen to a bunch of hottentots impersonating an oversubscribed moped rally!

Come to think about it, I didn't pay my licence fee!

Mary Whitehouse, where are you when we need you?

World Cup Opinion

Although I am failing to engage in the Brand-fest in South Africa, I have glimpsed from afar.

Two observations; Robert Green has received a pasting for his goalkeeping error, as expected, yet the press seem unable to comment on Gerrard's tendency to pass the ball square to the opposition just outside the England box. He's been doing it for years (and lost us the game against France in Euro2004) but such is his golden boy status, he remains untouched. He did it twice against the USA, who were mercifully unable to capitalise. That won't be the case against the real teams.

And talking of real teams. I've never been a believer in the nonsense that it's OK to scrape through ineffectually in the early rounds, as you have to save yourselves for the big games. The fact that England always scrape through and then FAIL to get further than the quarter finals proves a point.

Now watching the Germans last night: they went three nil up and put another striker on! Then they got a forth and put ANOTHER striker on.

That, gentlemen, is a statement of intent.

Sans Paroles

So we barrel out of the pub and over to the bus stop, where we have a seven minute wait for the next one, and I decide to pop into the offy for a couple of cans.

On the way in I see this, but damn it, I've forgotten my camera. I buy my cider and discuss to the resurgence of Forlan with the offy man who is pre-occupied with the France v. Uruguay. I'm on my way out, when I ask if he minds if I nab the Beaver poster.

Without taking his eyes off the game he laughs and says "Yeh"

Which leader, and which beaver is anyone's guess.

Limbo

Fun and Games from the Danes at Limbo

Now Wash Your Hands

I was at the urinal this morning, when I heard rustling, a flush, the click of a cubical door from which a chap emerged.

So far, so ordinary, but what happened next disturbed me.

At the sink, the man from trap one rolled up his sleeves, filled the sink with hot water, doused his hands in liquid soap and proceded to rigorously 'scrub up' with considerable persistance as though preparing to perform open-heart surgery on an immunity-deficient child.

I don't know what had just happened in that cubicle, and I don't want to know, but I do know that I won't be shaking HIS hand any time soon.

Disgusting

Meanwhile

The Unda Wunda!

Another week, another exhibition.

Greenwich Maritime Museum has a exhibition of Toy Boats , but the use of 'toy' is deceptive.

These are beautifully crafted works of art which a wonderfully evocative of a past era.

Notably, many of the exhibits represent some form of educational value, of how ships were built, or how they functioned. Yes, back when we MADE things rather than just bought things, we taught our children how the world worked.

But who needs that when you've got Britain's Got Talent?

The Trial, and Other Woes.

A rather Kafkaesque moment this afternoon.

Seeking a place to read a tedious document, I found an unoccupied meeting room in the old building. It's a large oak panelled chamber, with a large ovoid table and many chairs, which before the war would have been full of chain-smoking town planners plotting against the tax payers.

It is now actually a pleasantly cool space to work in relative quiet.

Ten minutes into my sojourn, a strident middle-age women with an eton crop marched in around the table and stood opposite me, where she barked out "Hate Crime!"

I was a little taken aback, until it occured to me that the room was probably booked for a meeting, and that I should leave.

As I did so, a group of retro-lesbians arrived, enquired "Hate Crime?" then looked me up and down, mentally castrating me, before brushing me aside and slamming the door behind them.

Now that hasn't happened for a long time; I felt almost nostalgic.

Surveillance: British Fauna Fights Back!

We humans may be sleepwalking into a surveillance state, but the animal kingdom is having none of it!

When would-be Stasi recruit Julie Worsley attempted to snoop on her local Badger sett, the resourceful brocks organised, and in an act of collective action, destroyed the machinery of the state in a glorious effort to free themselves from the yolk of oppression.

They then resumed their tradition way of life of steeling clothes and spreading TB to cattle.

Note: there's a fox near us who is often seen out in daylight. As a nocturnal creature, how do we know he's not sleep-walking?

Our Finest Hour?

If the Daily Telegraph web site is to be believed, Dunkirk was some kind of olfactory nightmare.

Didn't tell us about that at school!

And Take Your Paperclip With You!

A week after Microsoft is perceived to have fallen behind Apple on the stockmarket, what could be a body blow is delivered by Google which may (or may not) believe that Microsoft Windows is too flaky to trust!

We all know Windows is shit, but the functionality at those prices has always pursuaded the majority that the crap is worth putting up with.

However, this may not last, as the corporate world may be beginning to realise the long term benefits of using a professional computing solution.

Apple's dominance is based on its lead in must-have products, not on computer sales, but Google's decision may well mark a watershed in Microsoft's domination, as a trend towards more secure operating systems can only undermine the House of Gates.

Fingers crossed, Eh?

Protein Threat: Latest

Took a trip to the revamped Museum of London.

Imagine our joy to see this on display!

For those that don't know, a chap called Stanley Green toted this sign along Oxford Street for decades, handing out pamphlets estolling the virtues of abstinence in the face of proteins. For Mr Green, proteins wrought nothing but a torrent of filth.

I'm sure he'd be pleased to know that his message lives on in public, just next to a Legalise Pot banner from 1967!

Hollywood Babylon:

We've all been suspicious of Peter Pan, and I have no doubts about what HE'S up to these days; but Tinker Bell?

Look at her!

Buy this Belle a drink, and she'll let you Tinker with her alright!

Micky Flanagan

If you can, listen to Flanagan's What Chance Change? one of the funniest and most intelligent programmes currently on Radio 4

Suicide? That's Not In Your Job Description!

There's been discontent at the factory of Taiwan iPhone-maker Foxconn
where the staff have prone to a bit of suicide lately.

Apparently:

"the company has told workers to sign letters promising not to kill themselves"

What measures Foxconn plan to take against employees that renage on this agreement is not stated.

And to think that I work amongst people who think it's a bit much for the management to request that they turn up on time EVERY DAY!

The Man in the Brown Rubber Coat?

I was sifting through CVs today, including one with the claim that the candidate had once been a "Latex Foreman".

I mean, REALLY!

In Sickness and in Health, Until DEATH TO ALL HUMANS!

At a recent wedding, the not-too-happy couple were left wondering if they were actually married after a ceremony in which the vicar appeared to be so hapless that it was unsure if the nuptials were actually followed through correctly.

However, trust the Japanese to do away with any wedding day uncertainties with Robo Registrar

I suppose it alleviates the anxieties during the "and does anyone know of any impediment that would forbid this marriage? Speak now or hold thy peace!" bit of the show, as any potential interruptant would not want to risk being lasered into oblivion by the cyber-priest.

Which reminds me: Lasers are Fifty Years Old!

New Dawn; Latest

Word from the cabinet is that things are settling down, and that sterling work is being done to address the nation's pressing issues.

However, head boy, Osborne, has been complaining about the influx of other boys, and their behaviour in particular.

"This morning" he told us "some of the new boys said they had some special binoculars that could show us a vision of the New Britain"

"When I looked through them I couldn't see anything, and when I said so the others just sat there giggling like there was something funny about it. I told them they were just stupid and they all burst out laughing and ran off!"

When asked about the rings of black ink around his eyes, Osborne appeared to be perplexed, before running off towards the dormitories, cursing.

And The Winner Is....

Things are moving apace in Lord David "Dave" Cameron's new improved cabinet, but there has been some dissent from his new best friend Nick Leg.

Westminster School boy Nick, who won his place in the cabinet on a TV popularity contest, is questioning the set up.

"When I entered the TV contest, I'm sure that the prize was being Prime Minister!" said Leg. "In fact, when I was going on, I was really nervous, but the lady with the clipboard said don't worry, just go out there and tell them why you want to be Prime Minister", so that's what I did."

"Anyway, when I got to number ten, "Dave" told me that he had already been to see the Queen, and that HE was the Prime Minister because the Queen asked him already, which is really unfair because his Mum and Dad already know her, and it's unfair because I won the TV contest!"

However, it does appear that the boys have made up, and are now inseparable, although it is unknown whether they have actually become blood brothers with a rusty pen-knife or something.

Politic experts are yet able to ascertain whether any of this makes sense.

Lord Snooty & His Chums: The Parliament Years

It's taken a week, but Britain's new government has finally sat down and started work with its first cabinet meeting.

However, things got off to an unsteady start this morning, as the gathering proved to be disruptive with the two sides attempting to settle in together.

"It was the boys from the other schools that started it" said Cameron's head boy, Osborne. "They were throwing bread rolls at David's top hat, trying to knock it off, which is just bad form, and certainly not Eton rules!"

Osborne attempted to maintain order but was frustrated.

"I even asked Matron to do something about it, but she just looked at me and said "I'm the Home Secretary you twat!"which was a little uncalled for, and I'll certainly get my parents to write to the Head about her."

"The problem is" Osborne continued "people don't appreciate that Eton chaps are born to lead. It's nothing to do with the fact that our parents are very rich and well connected, it's because we're just superior. I mean, look at how well Boris is getting on in London, and he's just a blithering idiot!"

As Osborne turned to re-enter to the room, which was a riot of paper aeroplanes, it became apparent that someone had attached a "Kick Me" sign to his back.

Political experts are at a loss to explain where this will all lead.

BBC: Tories Are Evil; Fact!

According to the BBC, in a direct consequence of the the Conservative Party's coup Britain Froze Over in May!

OK, they don't quite spell it out like that, but note the dates: the last time it happened was under Tory rule in 1996.

As you know, the Shoebox is not biased, but it knows that it never happened under the thirteen years of labour!

It doesn't augur well. It'll be raining frogs next.

Election Latest

For our foreign readers, regarding our exciting new coallition government, a brief explanation may be necessary.

Basically, David Cameron, from elite boys school Eton, has pursuaded Nicholas Clegg, from elite boys school Westminster to be his Fag.

Expect High Jinks!

Nude Latest: Turkey

First it was Volcanic Ash shutting the airports, now the leisure killjoy police want to stop us enjoying the first Nude Hotel in Turkey!

Admittedly, the hirsute Turkish nude is probably not to everybody's taste but come on, loosen up!

Notorious

On the day that Britain welcomes its first Green Party member of parliament, we alos get to read about the UK's Gay Marriage to End in Murder

Apparently, the convicted man;

admitted often beating up or trying to strangle John, 35, as a "means of relieving stress".

Come on, what's wrong with a glass of wine and a massage?

Goodnight, And Goodluck

Nigeria's president has died, so meet their new leader:

Goodluck Jonathan

And in Nigerian politics, he'll need it.

Kings College

PM: Stating the Bleedin' Obvious

Yes, Mr Brown, you've got that about right.

Vote Wisely

A chilling warning from the Evening Standard, spelling out the possible consequences of voting Eton on Thursday.

The sight of Mayor Johnson cycling around London in a body-hugging "action-tunic", able to evaporate the poorer citizens with nothing more than a haughty, disdainful squint would possibly be a step too far!

Mind you, I'm not sure that dispensing preternatural gifts is actually in the Prime Minister's gift?

Or have I got the wrong sort of Superpowers?

Maybe Dave has the post-war Soviet Union in mind?

Or 16th Century Spain?

Yes, that sounds about right; Boris in a doublet and hose, sending the poor to certain death as doomed mariners vainly searching for El Dorado.

Be careful where you put your tick.

Dear Diary

Despite the damp and cold, the Shoebox has enjoyed an extended weekend.

On Friday, my partner and I visited the Quilt exhibition at the V&A.

On telling a colleague as I left work the evening before, he looked concerned and kindly suggested that, at a pre-arranged signal, he could call me, claiming a "Civil Emergency " to get me out of there.

There was, however, no need for this, as the exhibition is rather excellent. However, as one of the few males present, and walking around separated from my partner, I believe that there was an assumption amongst the women folk that I may be a little "light on my feet".

Anyway, just to balance things out, on my way home I caught Kick Ass at the cinema. Rather wonderful, in a dodgy violence-porn kind of way.

Then home to watch UP. I have been told that unlike Disney, who test everything to death, Pixar like to trust their own judgement. UP justifies this stance totally, and should be considered a surrealist masterpiece, although the fact that it is animation and Hollywood it will certainly never be given the credit it deserves.

On saturday it was Ricky Gervais' Cemetery Junction.

A nice piece of verisimiltitude, if a little unfocussed, although Gervais' ear for a good soundtrack is found to be flawless.

Sunday: Pet food run, via Garden Centre.

Monday: to the tip, where the staff were flying a kite tied to one of the bigger bins. Wonderful.

This Island Breed

As we yet endure the winter that just won't leave, I wonder just who the swimmers were that the coastguard were rescuing in Devon yesterday?

According to my research, Devon had a temperature of 10° C, (50°F), with a Northerly blowing to add the appropriate level of wind-chill to suggest that it was not a day for the beach.

Can I reassure readers that I grew up next to the English Channel, and I can reassure them that it offers a cold swim even in July/August.

Therefore, May 3rd would not be my choice to start the summer. It would not surprise me to see some of those rescued were clutching on to ice-floes.

Yes, it's the Bank Holiday mindset: it's sunny, therefore it's summer. Shorts, sunglasses, short-sleeves and hypothermia.

It's the British Way.

Last Night's Task

Have you ever tried to put a sock on a cat's tail?

It's not just more difficult than it looks, it is actually impossible, like eating more than three cream crackers without water, or watching Simon Cowell without wanting to take a brick to his face.

Basically, the cat will not comply.

Mascara On The Move: Latest

My work's intranet site is advertising the services of a

"Mobile False Eyelashes Technician"

I'm not sure what mobile false eyelashes do exactly, but I imagine that a technician would be essential to keep them under control.

Or maybe some shady character was stopped and asked what they do for a living, and they just shouted out the first four words that came into their head?

Next thing you know, someone in comms has said "that sounds exciting; let's run a feature!"

Sometimes, a sit com writes itself.

What The.......!

On reading the Guardian this morning, I turned the sports pages and did a double take.

Father Dougal McGuire playing cricket in a skirt? Well, it's the kind of thing they'd have him doing.

However, this is not the case. Apparently a lady cricketer called Claire Taylor. Not a good look.

2011: The End of an Era

Did you know that Sony still make Floppy Disks?

Well they do, but not for much longer!

Who knew that the old format had so much life in it? Who knew that anybody still had the facility to USE them?

At the Institute for Historical Research, there used to be a 5.5" disk, proudly displayed at the front of the software cabinet and entitled "Ye Olde Floppe Diske" written expertly in gothic copperplate.

Ah the old technology; these kids these days don't know they're born!

Reclaiming Adult Space

A long overdue initiative from the Science Museum: Late Openings for adults where children are BANNED.

They've even roped in one of the greatest astrophysicists of all time!

I hope this idea catches on at all museums and public spaces; hopefully to the point where "children's hours" will be squeezed into the weekends and the breeders will have to cede territory to the rest of us.

Now I can walk around the exhibits without tripping over somebody's idiot brat, and I can openly shout out "Fucking Hell, look at that Fucker! Fuck Me!" whilst pointing at the wonders of the modern age.

Yes, I like the idea of Lates very much.

History Today

I'm disappointed to say that the shaming of Orlando Figes did not totally surprise me.

It is not unusual for our more talented academics to be vain, self-serving, and subsequently bitchy to their colleagues. If you're born clever, you can end up mistaken that it makes you superior to others.

Figes, despite a successful career, a marriage and kids, has never shaken off the air of a cocky teenager who wants to show off.

And now he has to sit on the naughty step. Bad boy, naughty boy! In your basket!

UK Welcomes Pope With Suitable Distain

I was delighted that the Home Office are planning lots of japes ahead of the The Pope's Visit.

Some may say that the idea of the pontiff opening an abortion clinic, or starting a brand of eponymous condoms would be inappropriate. However, given his church's record, and their inability to fess up, I think they should be grateful for every offer they can get.

Hoorah for the Civil Service! Keep up the good work!

Look, No Hands!

You'd think that the sight of a working man setting out to better himself would bring encouragement. The notion that a common artisan should seek self improvement through book learning has long been a fundamental tenet of egalitarian thinking , and I think all decent people would agree with this.

Well, you'd think so wouldn't you? Then you need to think again!

Yes, it's the Health & Safety police with their heavy handed rules and regulations!

They've found a bus driver who likes to read, and now they want to put a stop to it.

OK, admittedly he likes to read whilst driving the bus, "steering with his elbows while holding a small book." but is that really so bad. I bet it gets really boring doing the same old route every day, and at least reading a good page turner gives you a decent excuse to ignore the passengers.

I don't think the H&S people have thought this through. I mean, what possible harm could come from it?

Crazy bureaucracy!

At Last: Time For The Caspian Sea Monster

As Europe grinds to a halt due to the flight ban, maybe we can consider an alternative from our Soviet chums back in the 1970s. Let's bring back the Ekranoplan!

Yes, it's a plane that flys JUST ABOVE THE WATER! Brill!

Meanwhile, I was surprised that our rail union comrades at the RMT haven't taken strike action in response to the volcanic ash threat on the usual "Health and Safety" grounds. However, I was reassured to hear that the French railway workers were resorting to type, and that in Europe's hour of need SNCF staff have walked out disprupting the repatriation of hundreds of thousands!

Meanwhile, at Calais Dan Snow's Dunkirk inspired publicity stunt has been stifled by the Gallic lackies. Note: this link may contain bias which does not necessarily represent the views of the Shoebox.

Vive la republique!

Dick of the Day

On exiting the platform at Belsize Park tube today, there was some delay on the steps and passengers were stalled on the steps.

Was it a young mother, struggling with a buggy? Perhaps a disbled person desperately dragging their withered, enfeebled limps up each torturous step? Or possibly even an elderly couple, out enjoying their free travel entitlement at our expense?

No, it was a dick reading a newspaper. Not even a newspaper really, it was one of the free sheets that litter the tube like some daily environmental catastrophy. So there we were waiting as some DICK took his time up the stairs whilst he read a paper he hadn't even paid for.

I was all for taking it off him, rolling it up and beating him about the head with it until he snapped out of his arseholery, apologised and got himself a job.

However, I was too busy and settled for pushing him out of the way, French style, and got on with my day.

PAH!

I'm Dead; Fly Me

You know how your grandad was always going on about how the only good German was a dead one?

Anyone who has had to endure the wonders that pass for Scouse company will know that on Merseyside they're keen on a good fat story, usually involving Liverpool and some exclusively ridiculous circumstances unknown elsewhere.

It is therefore appropriate that this story from the BBC took place at Liverpool John Lennon Airport (better known as Speke), where two German ladies have been caught in attempting to smuggle a cadaver out of the country.

Apparently:

Staff became suspicious when the women tried to check in the man, who was wearing sunglasses, for a flight to Berlin on Saturday.

No doubt security were concerned that the stiff may have been stuffed full of explosives. Fortunately the "Corpse Bombers" were apprehended in the nick of time.

Seriously though, the authorities should have at least had some sport from whole affair and let them past, just to see how they fared in getting Das Toten Fritzen onto the plane and into a seat. I imagine that the rigor mortis may have required that breaking off limbs in the execution; with hilarious consequences!

To your typewriters; your screenplay starts: NOW!

Mercury Rising

A moment of wonder tonight.

On looking west from the spare room, just after sunset I thought I saw an aircraft light, but not moving, a lone star in the early evening sky. Actually Venus, which tends to be bright.

Anyway, I fetched the binoculars (which I keep on hand just in case the lady over the way is 'displaying'*) and had a look at the bright planet. Then I notice a smaller light just to the right, also not flickering (therefore a planet). Intrigued I do a quick search to realised I've just spotted Mercury!

The heavens continue to give me a childlike thrill, and I always amazed to look at an actual planet.

*How do we know that Galileo wasn't just the local perv, who had invented the telescope for voyeuristic opportunism?

Thump Thump! "let us in Galileo, we know you're in there! We had complaints from the nuns!"

"Er, I can explain everything!"

"My God, what's this for?"

"It's , er, it's for looking at the sky!

"Eh?"

"Yeh, it's, er, it's a 'telescope', it's for looking at stars and planets and stuff, honest!"

"Oh, yeh, and what does the church think of this?"

"Oh, Bugger!"

Great Names of Sport:

Meet Charlie Sharples!

As in "Bugger Me! It's Charlie Sharples!"

Don't know if he's any good; he's a rugby player, and according to Wikipedia, he was born in Hong Kong!

Disaster Scenario? Make Mine A Large One

Nice to know that our men at London Transport have their priorities right when faced by adversity.

Avian Wang Bar Demo

Goodnight, and Sleep Tight

When I was a lad, there was a local factory, known for its low standards, that offered work to even the most unlikely candidates. In those days it was the dole, or XXXXXX (they're still in business, and have foodstuffs in a supermarket near you.)

I always thought about XXXXXX whenever I read a theatre programme, and saw The Bill listed in an actor's credits.

Even the hammiest of thesps could guaranteed work on the police soap, turning up as victims or wrong'uns, often as both in the longer careers, but for not much longer.

Call me a snob, but I'm quite proud to admit I have never seen a single episode of The Bill, and therefore won't miss it, but I do feel for those struggling actors who are now having to turn even more to historical enactment roles within our more ill-conceived themed museum exhibits around the country.

Alex Chilton

I saw Chilton at Dingwalls in 1980, and I'd never seen anyone detune a guitar before, and I thought "I'm having some of that!"

Actually, I so wanted great things from him, and was ultimately disappointed. But that's smackheads for you.

Julian Temple: Detroit

If you didn't see it, go to BBC iPlayer and watch it.

Post - Industrial American heritage being reclaimed by the wilderness. A city too expensive to demolish that it is being left to collapse as a symbol of distopia.

A city with 47% illiteracy rates. That is: a city in a first world country with 47% illiteracy.

A hopeful ending though, as residents are returning to the land and are farming the wasteland.

Awesome.

Winchester

Harry "Administration" Redknapp!

On the morning that Pompey are declared insolvent, and thus condemned to relegation and the probable plunge into the depths of the lower leagues, it is worth noting that Portsmouth, like their south coast rivals Southampton and Bournemouth, have gone under following the stewardship of Harry Redknapp.

West Ham, the other club managed by the ex used car salesman, are potentially in a similar situation.

Will Spurs survive Harry's love of a big squad with extravagant wages?

Will this recession have a second dip? Do you feel lucky?

Animals v. Humans

So the lady got killed by her captive?

The clue is in the name: KILLER Whale.

If you're going to encase an animal (that should swim hundreds of miles amongst its fellow creatures) in a tank, you have to accept that it has plenty of time to wait for the opportunity to get its own back.

Meanwhile, outside my office, I've just witnessed a blind man, guided by a dog, waiting to cross the road. A car pulled up, and to indicate that it was safe to cross the driver FLASHED HIS LIGHTS!

Maybe they teach the dogs optical semiotics at guide school?

Dark Arts Corner

Learn to make a Microsoft Voodoo Doll at ChiGarden

Once more, thanks to Curved White

Oh My God; We're All Going To DIE!

And probably at the hands of a disorientated motorist as the Sun takes it's revenge upon us puny humans.

Yes, our nearest star is about to wreak vengeance as it wakes up after a bit of a nap, and throws out a shed-load of radioactive solar flares, which will tamper with our orbiting communication satellites.

Down here on Earth, this will cause Sat Nav Chaos which will lead to anybody aged under thirty being totally unable to drive anywhere because they have no sense of direction and don't understand how to read a map.

Eco-warriors; this is our moment!

Objet Trouvé

Bold statement at Wood Green tube.

Not only does this work reduce the traditional view of the Madonna and child to an elemental state, but it goes further to present us with a representation of that child, hypertrophic with precocity, prepared to challenge us by competing with it's own mother for the available space in a boldness that is not so much oedipal, than cannibal.

My New Catchphrase

I've been trying out the use of "Is that a euphemism for something, disgusting?"

So far this has been to little effect.

However; the Republican party of American are declaring themselves to be Tea Baggers.

"Tea Bagging? Is that a euphemism for something, disgusting?"

Dirty Sarah Palin, Dirty Dirty Girl.

When In Rome

As the Paul Gascoigne tragedy slowly continues towards its inevitable alcoholic conclusion, the BBC offers us his latest arrest here

I only feature this because it contains the sentence:

In December, Gascoigne was given a fixed penalty notice for being drunk and disorderly in Newcastle

Which begs the question: Just how drunk do you have to get to be "drunk and disorderly" in Newcastle? How do they know?

Cat / Coffee Table Interface

Yes, and it's available from Here

Spotted on the too cool for its own good Curved White

Ortery Photosimile 5000

3D Photo Device £17,000

Connotations for:

a) On-Line Retail

b) Internet Porn

Motorcycle + Exploding Cigarette = Dental Work

On a slow news day one can always rely on the thread: third world; health & safety; comedy fag; and teeth, to present a fantastically usable piece of copy.

This story here at the BBC contains the phrase:

"We do not put any strange materials in the cigarettes, so we think that this is a weird case"

Orphaned? You Are Now: Praise The Lord!

What is it about distaster zones that attract fundamentalist christians?

As the native population takes to the streets in an orgy of looting whilst the world looks the other way, those evangelists fly in and round up the local kids like god-bothered child-catchers, intent in whisking them away to a life of hygienic torpor in the bible belt.

I imagine the scene on the border:

Border Guard: "Anything to declare?"

Missionaries (posing as tourists)"Er; No?"

Border Guard: "What about these 30 children?"

Missionaries: "Oh My? Where did THEY come from? They must of followed us, the little monkeys! SHOO SHOO! It's our overwhelming goodness that attracts them!"

Every distaster presents an opportunity; to some it's a free toaster, to others it's the chance to impose one's values upon the helpless. Seemingly inevitable, but both equally unpalettable.

One Of Those Art Gallery Moments

Letting Daylight In On Magic

Deep inside my cynical thick-skinned shell exists a simpler character that feeds on life's brief heart-warming moments; usually involving the animal kingdom.

When the fairy-tale wolf photo won the Wildlife Photograph of the Year award thing, I so wanted it to be true, however unlikely it looked.

Sadly it is not to be so. The cheating Spaniard used aStunt Wolf and is thus disqualified.

Mind you, anyone who has ever attempted to train a DOG to do ANYTHING will realise what a magnificent achievement this photo actually is. So hoorah for that instead!

How Great Empires Fall

Meanwhile, at the British Museum, we gain an insight into how the Aztecs declined.

Ultimately, it didn't work for Charlie Parker ; didn't work for Jim Morrison; or even Bez from Happy Mondays. What was the Mexican Boy thinking?

The Future: Flying Car Latest

I don't know how you get to be a professional future predictor, but according to the BBC there's a group of government people who get paid to do just that!

According to this Government Thinktank some lucky people will be able to cite their occupation as "space pilot"!

However, there appears to be no news about the flying car. We put a man on the moon FORTY YEARS AGO for christ sake, like; before computers and moisturiser for men were available, so what's the delay?

Apparently policemen are going to be arresting people for meteoroligical crimes.

Big deal! What's the use of that if they can't chase the climate criminals in flying cars? What a Swizz!

Vindaloo Revisited

Well, I got to midday and had to concede that I was not fit enough to stay at work, what with having this cold and all.

I therefore set the Out of Office reply and made my way home via the local curry house.

I haven't had a vindaloo for probably 25 years, since I reached a stage where I finally felt that I had proven my point, and elected to taste my food from then on.

Well, having decided to try one out in order to go nuclear on this damn cold , and being way beyond the need to show what I can do in the bad lad stakes, I can confirm that there is little point in a vindaloo APART from clearing one's ague. Why else would anyone elect to eat it?

And to think that it's what I ate EVERY time we went into the Indian.

Of course I was young and idiotic back then, and at least it was less stupid than getting a tattoo.

Or doing those stuntman japes for laughs which have probably contributed to my chronic back problem.

Got some great laughs though.

Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport

As my viewers know, the Shoebox neither approves of, nor suffers, illness.

However, once in a while one finds oneself inadvertantly dipping into the illness experience, and although irritating, it can often be interesting.

For example; I began my day yesterday with 'a bit of a temperature' and due to the adverse weather conditions, and the failure of my employer's heating systems, I fell low yesterday evening and had a night of ague.

Subsequently I lie downstairs in a bit of a sweat and fell into a hallucinatory state where I had some unusual experiences, including the belief that my being had fallen down the back of all of the appliances in the room.*

I think my atoms were confused.

Much better today though and back to work.

* Many years ago, when suffering from an allergic reaction to penicillin following surgery, and having been awake for over 36 hours due to the itching, I procured sleeping pills and expected a night of rest.

However, this was not the result.

I just became very very tired, but found sleep impossible due to the skin irritation.
As a result, I had a series of hallucinations, including one where I was an Australian stand-up comedian delivering a set in a night club.

When I recounted this experience to a friend who had recently recovered from a broken leg, he retorted: "Interesting; when I was on those odd pain-killers I thought I was Australia!"

Big Chill: Latest

I appreciate that the weather conditions out there are going to have a detrimental impact upon our infrastructure, and that there will be disruption. Ditto, the temperatures are making life difficult, and things FEEL more unpleasant, but can everybody just GROW UP.

My journey was delay twice this morning due to passengers demanding attention at Finsbury Park, and then Kings Cross. The last couple of mornings, the platforms have exhibited "ailing" passengers with their hands held to their wan brows in self-pity whilst the rest of flow around them just GETTING ON WITH IT.

Why the upsurge? Obviously, the stop-start nature of tube travel this week has delayed journeys, and for some the extra 5 minutes is all too much. I think the exacerbating factor centres upon the 'special conditions' being experienced by all of us, but for some, it's a chance to grasp at that all elusive attention.

I'm not going down the National Service route, but I do fear how our nation will fare in a war.

So why have I just wasted two minutes writing about this? I myself can't bear my irritation at the woman, who on encountering the ticket barrier at the station exit, stopped in front of me in order to TURN THE PAGE OF HER NEWSPAPER!

All I'm saying is that there should be by-laws against this kind of thing.

Postman In Hammersmith Palais

Back in the late 70s, we'd amuse ourselves in the pub by imagining the KTEL compilations of the future, and the TV advert that would ask:

"Do you remember 'Anarchy in the UK' by THE SEX PISTOLS? What about 'Love Comes in Spurts by RICHARD HELL AND THE VOIDOIDS?. How could we forget 'Orgasm Addict' by THE BUZZCOCKS?

Well, guess what?

They're all here with 20 other fantastic punk hits on one GREAT album; KTEL's great new 'Fuck Me; It's The 1970s!

Yes for only £2.99! you can remember those gob-spattered years all over again!

Remember, this record is only available by phone, and is not available in the shops!"

That the counter-culture could be imagined as mainstream in the future was so remote that such a joke was actually funny at the time. It took Post-Modernism to wipe the smile off of our spotty anti-authoritarian faces.

And just when you think that the barrel has been scraped dry, and every scintilla of our radical heritage has been appropriated by the man, the Royal Mail goes and issues stamps based upon "Great Album Covers".

Now had they chosen any of Ray Lowry's Nazi cartoons instead of his Clash cover, then THAT would impress me.

London Grocery Failure

As Jack Frost increases his savage grip upon the nation, I have to say that there is one particular issue that is being ignored by the British media.

Those that know me know that I like to start the day with a banana inside me, however, I'm concerned about the quality of the capital's supply!

Unfortunately, none of the grocers in my neighbourhood understand the need to keep their bananas indoors in the warm during the cold snap. Instead they're left out front where they cease to ripen, go green/grey and end up manky.

I haven't enjoyed a decent banana for weeks, but I haven't seen or heard a word about this in the media ANYWHERE.

Fortunately we have the internet, and the truth is now out there; so let's see some banana action!

School's Out

Spent the weekend revisiting my home neighbourhood.

The apocalyptic site above is actually my old primary school, or rather, what remains of it.

They tore down what they were allowed to tear down, but never got to build the flats intended due to the economic downturn. Subsequently, the remaining building, a listed 1867 Education Act primary school, is being neglected, no doubt with the hope that it will deteriorate and become a dangerous liability which can be demolished to make way for more profit, home-buying opportunities.

Meanwhile, I went to football to see the mighty Cherries, who are second in League Two (the old division 4). Well I say I went to see football, it actually resembled an audition for A Chorus Line. What a bunch of nancies! How that team has sustained it's elevated status so far is a mystery.

Mind you, despite the cold, and the miserable 0-2 humiliation, we received a lift in spirits towards the end. One "surprisingly overweight for a professional sportsman" member of the opposition was being substituted, giving the home crowd a little comfort in cruelty. As he wound the clock down by waddling off slowly, a wag in the crowd suggested that he "Have A Salad!". How we laughed!

Economy Latest

The disgruntled bankrupt remarked;

"We were able to see out the economic depression and believed that we were relatively strong in the face of consumer defection to internet commerce, but in the end we were totally unprepard for this year's penchant for slip-ons! Who would have thought that elastication held such appeal? God Damn Casual Wear!"

North London Tool Mystery

The population of an entire London Borough were shamefaced on having to admit that they had misplaced an essential component from the Metalwork cupboard.

The Shoebox eventually found a resident willing to speak anonymously:

"We can't find the Bastard!" he explained from his shed.

After waiting for the snickering to subside, he continued:

"That's the name of it, it's a Bastard file. Admittedly, it's a bit big for most work, but if you're going to restrict yourself to one all-purpose file, it'll do most things. However, I've argued for some time now that a half-round double-cut would prove to be far more versatile, but no-one listens to me around here."

When pressed on the impact of the missing tool, our man would only say

"The whole neighbourhood is strewn with burred edges, and there's only so much you achieve with emery cloth! One could suffer a rather nasty skin abrasion if you accidently rubbed up against an unfinished extrusion!"

Asked who lost it, our man was willing to speculate.

"I can't name him, but put it this way; the chisels always come back blunt, he never recharges the drill before returning it, and God knows how he broke the strimmer. I'm sure he's letting his wife use them; and that's strictly against regulations!"

Asked, why he didn't just buy his own tools, our man in the shed just looked confused.

"What do you mean, like private ownership? In Haringey? No, that could never be. This isn't Brent!"

Pushing it's luck, the Shoebox then asked the anonymous shed person if he had greased any nipples lately, only to be expelled with some force.

Blue Moon

That is: two full moons in the same month, 13 in one year.

Not another until 2018.

Seasonal Latest

Reprise

You may remember that I'm filling my time by revisiting old tapes, in an attempt to preserve my past in the new fangled digital format.

Imagine my joy then, to discover that "someone" has wiped a considerable part of MY archive to compile the worst party mix of all time circa 1985. Despite the box AND the reel having MY NAME on them, and the words: DO NOT ERASE clearly written on the outside.

A whole phase gone, for the sake of a party that HE (and I know exactly who did this) has long forgotten.

I Heard The News Today; Oh Boy

Enduring my forced leave due to the "Festive Season", I get to lie in bed and listen to the Today programme at length.

I was amused by the feature on celebrity football thug Joel Barton, bemoaning his plight as a wanker. Give him credit though, he did get to say "actually, most footballers are knobs". Out of the mouths of babes.

Meanwhile, America's WAR ON TOURISM continues.

President Obamarama is angry at his "intelligence" agents for letting the underpants bomber onto a flight.

Now, I find it difficult to get too alarmed at a man who attempted to set fire to his Y-Fronts on a flight. Back in the seventies, Keith Moon used to do that sort of thing every week!

Come, ease up everybody, just give the man a gig at the Jim Rose Circus!

No, I'm more worried about the Terror Watch List that the president mentioned. I assume that this is a batch of explosive Timex's? Maybe at a given moment in time all of the Timex's have been synchronised to blow the left arm off of each wearer!

Obviously, given Timex's usual unreliability this would take place over some considerable time, but it's still likely to create quite a spectacle.

Fortunately, as a local government officer, I have never really had need for timekeeping.

Fleur

Superglue: Now For Cats

Wild Thing

I was musing on the decision of Richard Hell to re-record an album from his salubrious past, as he felt that the original recording was marred by his over-enthusiastic use of drugs at the time.

I think we should consider this notion from another angle, and wonder if the work of Cliff Richard would have BENEFITTED from a liberal intake of illegal substances?

Get him back in the studio now; stoned off his box; "OK, Bachelor Boy, 1.2.3..."

Look Back In 15ips:

Spending the time off transfering old reel to reel tapes onto digital.

Sadly, some tapes have deteriorated and are relatively useless.

However, the biggest disappointment lies within one of the few masters that have retained their quality. It contains the only thing that I ever recorded that I thought was ever any good.

The tape has never been played before, and imagine my dismay to discover that the engineer has mastered the track WITHOUT THE LEAD GUITAR. I'm not talking about Clapton levels of virtuosity here, but it's useless without the key riff.

Damn you Peter Whatisname! And to think that I gave you my Korg MS10 on permanently loan!

There Goes The Neighbourhood

Well you have to feel sorry for the lucky country.

Previously it was a plague of boat people bobbing up around their shores.

Now, according to the BBC

"Recent heavy rainfall in parts of Queensland has prompted large numbers of marsupials to flock to the newly green countryside."

Yes, the farmers are overrun by Kangaroos. They open their curtains in the morning and their pastures have taken on the appearance of a vast trampoline.

Disturbingly, the situation has been exacerbated:

"It is not only wet weather that has boosted marsupial numbers but also Russia's suspension of kangaroo meat imports earlier this year because of hygiene concerns"

Hygiene? What are the Ruskies doing eating Kangaroos anyway?

No-one's going to tell ME old Skippy is UNHYGENIC?

"What's that Skippy?; Destroy all humans? Oh no, Skippy, not YOU as well!"

Whiteout

After years of no snow whatsoever, we get it twice in one of the warmest years on record.

I wouldn't mind, but the tomcat is reluctant to go out and have a shit, so he's lying around the house farting all day.

Weather Update: Panic On The Streets!

Snow falling in London. Stop

Breakdown in social fabric anticipated. Stop

God Help Us. Stop

Rebuffed!

OK, So I put the Christmas Card proposal to my other half, and, do you know, she can be so NEGATIVE sometimes.

Turned it down flat.

Now she wants to go out for a meal next week.

I said, you name it, I could cook it cheaper at home.

She said, that's not the point.

I said, I'm not made of money and there's a recession on.

Fell on deaf ears.

Tsk.

Bah Humbug!

The Age of Waste

And so, as the Consumer Season (Sponsored by Coke) is upon us, and home owners across the country bedeck their property with decorations in order to compete to be the most wasteful household in the neighbourhood, I have been pleased to observe that the street on which we live is untouched by such environmental suicide, with one exception, the usual lacklustre display down the way that always looks like an annual cry for help.

I had hoped that the RECESSION that everyone seems to have forgotten would taken its toll on this nonsense, yet on jogging my route last night I discover that the posh houses appear to have succumbed to the nonsense, and that someone has sold them all identical displays for their privet hedges. Yes, in these houses the current events in Copenhagen don't exist, and everyone's getting a Jeremy Clarkson DVD in their stocking.

Economic Prudence

Meanwhile, this morning, I was musing over my partner's compulsion to distribute Christmas Cards to the neighbours, and naturally worried about the unnecessary cost that this would incur.

Then it occurred to me; just do one large card with all the names on, and post it in the house on the end. Then, on opening it they tick their names and pass it next door where the process is repeated.

We are therefore seen to reciprocate to all THEIR Christmas Cards, but without the time and expense of writing individual responses.

I'll ask her what she thinks when I get home.


Dream

Finally, I had a dream this morning.

I'm walking through this village, and there appears to be some sort of parade, and a battered old car rattles past slowly, followed by a duck, only a duck with little arms and a walking stick.

And I ask myself "What sort of village is this?"

Maybe it was the peanuts I had in the pub last night?

Dry Cleaning for Students?

On my post-prandial peregrenations this lunch-time, I passed the local Dry Cleaners who were advertising "20% off for Students".

Students using Dry Cleaners? What possible use would a student have for dry cleaning?

Or have I got the wrong end of the stick? Is it now fashionable to have the students themselves dry-cleaned? What is the position in regard to Health & Safety on this?

Is it a student craze involving whizzing around in the tumbler?

Has suede made a comeback?

I'm clearly out of touch on this one.

What Hairpiece?

I played my first gig in about 12 years at the weekend. It was just a village hall in a provincial town, in front of a bunch of people whose idea of a saturday night out is to visit a provincial village hall and watch a bunch of men in their 50s attempt to recapture their youth.

I bring your attention to this to state that my great moment of pride was in the observation that I was the only performer with a full head of hair.

However, as I return to work this morning, the harsh flourescent light of the gents reminds me that I am growing incrementally grey, with my only remaining colour retained in the longish bits at the top. Unfortunately, this gives me the appearance of A MAN WEARING A TOUPEE!

Either I go for the bootpolish look all over, or I cut off the offending coloured hair and look like a grey man who is preparing for baldness.

Or wear a hat permanently, like the bald one in U2.

I am not built for this aging process, it's ugly, and it's unfair.

News From The North

I'm not prejudiced, as you all know, but I always look to the North for entertainment at the time of a recession.

Guess what they're up to now?

Well, according to the BBC they're shoving their little 'uns in the recycle bins in order to STEAL THINGS OTHER PEOPLE HAVE THROWN AWAY!

Fantastic: can't wait to see it on You Tube!

Do they have You Tube in the North?

How To Make A Video

I envy the Arctic Monkeys because they are so effortlessly talented, and have yet to put a foot wrong.

The Canteen Is Another Country, They Do Things Differently There

The canteen facility at work has never been the best, and has often managed to achieve the worst on numerous occasions.

Staffing has often been the issue, particularly when they draft in someone at short notice, on the sole qualification that they are actually available. Such personnel, by default from the third world, are usually disadvantaged by their lack of English, and particularly when they have no familiarity with British Food (although I concede that even the most practiced native would struggle to recognise the fayre presented on some days).

I once addressed this issue in a team meeting where I related my plight, concerning the time when my request for peas resulted in a generous dollop of baked beans. "No!" I protested; "PEAS!" pointing to the appropriate vegetable. In response, my adversary pointed to the beans and exclaimed; "Yes Peas!"

"That's nothing," responded a colleague, "I asked for gravy, and he put custard on me roast!"

For a while, it looked like those days had passed, and even the fruit salad improved over the previous green apple / red apple in orange juice offering, but, alas, not for long.

This lunchtime, I have just waited in a enormous queue, only to discover that the delay was arising from the cashier's total unfamiliarity with sterling currency. Yes, a cashier with no idea of what the coinage represents, as befuddled as a tourist on their first day in Ulan Bator.

When he short-changed me, it wasn't out of perfidy, he was simply unaware of which bits of the round metal pieces that were due to me.

I say bring back Slutty Rose; what she lacked in virtue and underwear, she more than made up with numeracy!

I'll be making my own sandwiches tomorrow.

The Past Is Another Country

And Nick Hornby's An Education looks like a foreign film.

C'est tres chic!

Probably his masterpiece. An evocation of a time before corporate globalism swamped us all.

There is also sufficient evidence in recent years to indicate that the British are learning to make films worth watching.

Hoorah!

Dunned By The Tongs!

I have just been passed in the street by a man of Chinese appearance who walked the lengths of the road WITH HIS ARMS FOLDED!

And I don't mean that he stopped to admire something for a while, maybe an architectural gem, a flower, or a blue plaque, and then forgot to unfold his arms on continuing his walk.

He clearly walked the length of the road with his arms folded, as though he'd been cornered by a bunch of ruffian tailors who had corned him, pinned him down and sadistically sewn each cuff to the opposite elbow.

Maybe this happened in Hong Kong, where the hapless victim, on collecting his 24 hour suit had attempted to bargain down the price by fabricating some form of greivance, like saying the vents weren't deep enough.

Disgruntled, the cruel couturiers had taken umbrage, ganged-up, performed a "stitching", before bundling the punter into a Heathrow-bound container, confident that the distant (and bemused) baggage-handlers would incompetently misdirect him into London's West End where he would be doomed to wander the streets in a state of confusion with a defensive body-language posture.

Yes, now I've thought it through, I'm sure that that answers all the questions.

Yes, that's definately what happened.

Phew!

Overheard

I've just witnessed a wonderful "Dora Bryan" moment in the staff kitchen.

Chap 1 "How's the new job?"

Chap 2 "Yeh, great, thanks!"

Chap 1 " Did they fill your 'ole?"

Chap 2 -Unsure what he had just heard- "Pardon??"

Chap 1 "Did they fill your ROLE?"

Chap 2 -somewhat relieved- "Err, yes."

Hack Space

Fancy mending things with a soldering iron?

Remember when we didn't throw things away?

Like to hear things hum as the warm up for use?

Check out Hack Space

Everything is OK

Again thanks to Greg at Arctic Ghetto

Nostalgia; The Ache From An Old Wound

On manly duties after work last night, I left work in pursuit of jump leads, as our VW seems to have a flat battery.

Rather than surrender my money to the capitalist running dogs of the high street chain, I elected to procure my wares from the small-world tories in the long-standing motor factors just round the corner from my old flat.

Imagine the horror as I passed number 123 and saw the addition of shiny new UPVC where my beautiful old sash windows once were.

My partner and I spent HOURS taking those windows out; stripping, repairing, filling and painting/varnishing them, before rehanging them newly weighted to adjust for the lighter modern glass panes that we had installed. You could lift and close them with one finger, such was the expertise of the work.

It was a huge achievement, and probably the refurbishment we were most proud of.

The sight of the UPVC struck me like a rusty blunt dagger through the heart.

Bugger them!