Sunday, May 29, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Friday, May 06, 2011
Take It Apart
I beseech you to read "A Codified Set of the Builder's, Crafters, Makers Rules" at Wondermark
For shed men everywhere.
Special Agent Rin Tin Tin
I read the following in a BBC account of the Bin Laden raid:
I suspect the truth was somewhere near this:
T minus twenty seconds;
"At the ready men, and prepare to land; Holy Crap! Agent Dugard, explain yourself!"
"Sir, I'm sorry Sir! Sir, believe me I tried, but Mary Sue is in the jug for drink-driving again and her sister who normally does the dog-sitting is working double-shifts at the chicken-ranch. If I leave him at home he chews up the trailer! Sir!"
"We'll talk about this later, just keep that thing under control! OK men: Jump!"
Two minutes later.
"Minsky, we're still waiting for you! What's the problem now!"
"Sir, I'm sorry sir!" Sir; I think its the excitement sir! He's kinda sensitive!"
"Well make sure you pick that up on the way out!
"Sir, yes Sir!"
"Woof!"
"Cool your jets Jimbo, we're in enough trouble! Jeez, look! That's the guy from the posters!"
Gunshots are heard.
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
No One Wants to Discuss the Truth
Oh yeah, like anyone believes that Bin Laden is actually dead!
Of course he was buried at sea: in a casket with breathing apparatus!
There was a submarine below the whole canard, waiting to transport Agent Bin Laden back to CIA headquarters in Langley, where he'll be debriefed before being retired to secret quarters.
Apparently, he's acquired a taste for the ladies since having 17 wives, and is insisting on a similar arrangement in Oregan.
He'll be moving into a community with the other decommissioned agents like Bruce Lee, Elvis Presley and Benny Hill.
Actually, I'm not sure about that last one. I read that at the normally reliable angryabouteverything.com, but I'm beginning to question their judgement recently since they claimed that Obama didn't even HAVE a birth certificate because he was a cyborg created at the back of a surfing novelty shop in Honolulu during a particular low tide.
Anyway: he's alive!
Or, and I'm inclined towards this one: they have his head alive in a jar, just in case they need access to an evil genius to resist future alien onslaught.
Oh I don't know, it must be one of the two, but I'm undecided.
It's just that I've been having a few identity issues recently, and feeling more than my usual level of alienation since Mr Chutney the rent collector moved in with Mom. Apart from his carnal advances upon her, he's also been looking at porn images of fat chicks on my laptop, and then blaming me!
But will the Navy Seals do anything about him?
No, of course not! It's SO UNFAIR!
Of course he was buried at sea: in a casket with breathing apparatus!
There was a submarine below the whole canard, waiting to transport Agent Bin Laden back to CIA headquarters in Langley, where he'll be debriefed before being retired to secret quarters.
Apparently, he's acquired a taste for the ladies since having 17 wives, and is insisting on a similar arrangement in Oregan.
He'll be moving into a community with the other decommissioned agents like Bruce Lee, Elvis Presley and Benny Hill.
Actually, I'm not sure about that last one. I read that at the normally reliable angryabouteverything.com, but I'm beginning to question their judgement recently since they claimed that Obama didn't even HAVE a birth certificate because he was a cyborg created at the back of a surfing novelty shop in Honolulu during a particular low tide.
Anyway: he's alive!
Or, and I'm inclined towards this one: they have his head alive in a jar, just in case they need access to an evil genius to resist future alien onslaught.
Oh I don't know, it must be one of the two, but I'm undecided.
It's just that I've been having a few identity issues recently, and feeling more than my usual level of alienation since Mr Chutney the rent collector moved in with Mom. Apart from his carnal advances upon her, he's also been looking at porn images of fat chicks on my laptop, and then blaming me!
But will the Navy Seals do anything about him?
No, of course not! It's SO UNFAIR!
Monday, May 02, 2011
Dun Laden
Well, that's just typical.
Americans celebrating the death of Bin Laden, with no consideration for those of us chasing debts.
I haven't been paid for all that tunneling work and air conditioning we put in for him about a decade ago!
And I've still got a dodgy stomach from my time on the Tora Bora food plan.
I mean, there's a recession on and the building trade is in enough difficulty without this.
I've still got a bloody "super-gun" out the back that Saddam ordered of me. No chance of getting rid of that either!
Americans celebrating the death of Bin Laden, with no consideration for those of us chasing debts.
I haven't been paid for all that tunneling work and air conditioning we put in for him about a decade ago!
And I've still got a dodgy stomach from my time on the Tora Bora food plan.
I mean, there's a recession on and the building trade is in enough difficulty without this.
I've still got a bloody "super-gun" out the back that Saddam ordered of me. No chance of getting rid of that either!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Please Wear The White Gloves Provided
Researching as I do, I stumble upon the poorly designed yet unteresting The National Museum of Science & Industry (NMSI) site, which provides details of museum collections.
Heavily featured, site left, at the head of the 'Popular Objects' section is a link to the Arita Drug and Rubber Goods Company pre-war sex aids collection.
This may give us a glimpse of the world had the Japanese won the war.
Happy Christmas Mr. Lawrence indeed!
Heavily featured, site left, at the head of the 'Popular Objects' section is a link to the Arita Drug and Rubber Goods Company pre-war sex aids collection.
This may give us a glimpse of the world had the Japanese won the war.
Happy Christmas Mr. Lawrence indeed!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Volcanic Dust Inquest
So we learn that the no-fly declaration following last year's Icelandic volcano eruption was valid after all.
Volcanic Dust Sand Blasting Effect
However I am bemused to read the statement:
Some 10 million travellers were affected by the shutdown .
The travellers on the camp down the road from me don't look like the jet-setting kind, and are far too busy fly-tipping and horse-trading to leave their caravans.
Surely some mistake?
Volcanic Dust Sand Blasting Effect
However I am bemused to read the statement:
Some 10 million travellers were affected by the shutdown .
The travellers on the camp down the road from me don't look like the jet-setting kind, and are far too busy fly-tipping and horse-trading to leave their caravans.
Surely some mistake?
Thursday, April 21, 2011
The Royal Wedding Broadside
A colonial acquaintace asked my thoughts on next weeks Royal Wedding.
This came out:
Although I am no monarchist, I've never been too bothered to go out of my way to exhibit my opposition.
Some will feel the need to demonstrate their ire by phoning up the media and putting on a display of having a picnic miles away from anywhere without TV or Radio, to ensure that their protest is duly noted. It’s the modern way, and no doubt there’s even an appropriate Facebook page available to register one’s disdain.
Having said that, I've yet to come across too much of such posturing, as the dissenters are choosing to just get on with their lives. And actually, now we're no longer tied to old media, it's so much easier to live in parallel without the big day obstructing normal life.
On the day of Diana's death, the British media came to a standstill as all their resources were re-routed to re-cycle the same story ad nauseam throughout the day. The BBC received so many complaints, they had to revert back to normal programming to stem the tirade. My partner and I went to see The Full Monty, it was very good.
Back in 1981, at the Charles / Diana bout, there were a plethora of "fuck the Royal Wedding" gigs on the big day. In fact, it was at one of these that I met a future partner-to-be (but don't get me started on HER!). I'm sure that this time there will be a host of similar events, musical and otherwise, although (like with the Facebook thing) I am now too old to know where.
Basically, there are as many antagonists as there are enthusiasts, but the wadge in the middle who don't mind either way will watch it with everyone else, the way they watch the world cup final, or Wimbledon in a disinterested way, yet are reluctant to miss out on the goodwill generated. It therefore appears that the numbers are generally in favour; it's a party after all.
What will actually happen is the nation will unite because "it’s what we do best". We can't produce a world beating football team or Wimbledon champion, or retain a car industry, or function in one inch of snow, but we can do pomp. It will run like clockwork. It will be spectacular. It will cost a fortune, but as no-one knows how much, and couldn't care less because no-one understands just how big the recession is anyway.
It's a feel-good event. We'll never get a welcoming parade for the end of the war in Afghanistan because that war will never end. The England team will never parade the streets of the capital in an open-topped bus with the world cup. But we have our Royals; they’ll do.
And it has to be said, they couldn't have found a better bride. My God she's a belter!
I'm amused that the press are doing their best to portray her as the commonest of commoners, descended from lowly miners no less. This is conveniently ignoring the fact that she is the daughter of multi-millionaire business owners and her father is from staunch Banker/Lawyer stock, going back generations. I suspect that there was a time when Kate's mother was also well fit, and traded those looks on the market for a prize worthy of her own mercantile ambitions. Hence a dynasty is born, and now they have aspired to the very top. Millions in the bank today, and a king for a grandson tomorrow. The icing on the cake.
Anyway, going back to "what we do best". Did you know that Diana got the Queen Mother's funeral? The Queen Mother (literally, the mother of the present queen, who had been Queen previously, married to the king from The Kings Speech) lived a LONG TIME. There was a funeral arranged and budgeted-for, awaiting her demise. When the "Princess Whore" pegged it in that Parisian tunnel with her swarthy paramour, the powers-that-be activated the old-dear's ceremony and commandeered it for the people’s slapper.
The world sat in wonder as Britain put on a flawless display, inch-perfect and to the second, at such short notice. My partner’s brother-in-law, an Albanian, was in awe. When I bemoaned the event he objected.
"That was incredible" he argued. "To achieve such perfection! In Albania we couldn't do that; you wouldn't be able to find the guy!"
(“The guy” being whoever was responsible for organising things, disappeared elsewhere in a dereliction of duty, up to no good. Not unlike George Bush with Hurricane Katrina.)
And so it will be next week. William will stand grinning, with his pasty face and male-pattern baldness inherited from his father (unlike his brother who boasts the thick ginger locks owing to HIS patronage). Kate will be radiant, and do her bit to sell tabloids, gossip sheets and TV specials around the world. Everybody wins.
Except the tax payer. It will be claimed that the income from this, in fees and tourism, will more than pay for it, although no-one will show any statistics to prove this. And no-one will ask to see them.
That's how it works. As the event escalates, the public get drawn in, and once the mass develops its collective consciousness dissent will be shouted down. Why would ANYONE want to spoil the fun? Why are there people who always have to piss on our chips? BOO!
It never makes any sense, but it always happens, and I think it's to do with our inability to do anything else. Royal events of this magnitude are the only thing that won't let us down. We're in our element; it's what we're good at, and we feel good doing it, because we're in control and we have the rulebook.
At football and war, the opposition won't let us win, (although we could if they’d play to the rules!) but there are no barriers to success at a Royal Wedding.
So why aren't there riots?
It's not a political event, and it's difficult to tie the Royals into the Global Capitalist Conspiracy because they are perceived as apolitical, and their money is so old that nobody can remember who died in it’s making.
As for our anarchists, they are just that; disaffected and unconnected from the system. They don't arrange anything. They rely on the G8 summits, or anti-government demos to create a pre-arranged event to which they can just gatecrash and take their photo-opportunity. Look at me; I'm the spirit of 1848! The Royal Wedding is not a protest march. There is no fuel.
There won't be riots because no-one will be bothered to turn up and instigate one. Those who do have the wherewithal are the very same people setting themselves up outside the city demonstrating how disconnected they are, enduring their dissenters' picnic in the Shetland rain..
Yes, it’s a travesty, but like class, and the decline in serving standards in pubs, it’s something we know isn’t right, but that we can’t be bothered to do anything about.
Indeed, if there’s one thing Britain does better than ceremony, it’s a crippling form of begrudging apathy.
Bah!
This came out:
Although I am no monarchist, I've never been too bothered to go out of my way to exhibit my opposition.
Some will feel the need to demonstrate their ire by phoning up the media and putting on a display of having a picnic miles away from anywhere without TV or Radio, to ensure that their protest is duly noted. It’s the modern way, and no doubt there’s even an appropriate Facebook page available to register one’s disdain.
Having said that, I've yet to come across too much of such posturing, as the dissenters are choosing to just get on with their lives. And actually, now we're no longer tied to old media, it's so much easier to live in parallel without the big day obstructing normal life.
On the day of Diana's death, the British media came to a standstill as all their resources were re-routed to re-cycle the same story ad nauseam throughout the day. The BBC received so many complaints, they had to revert back to normal programming to stem the tirade. My partner and I went to see The Full Monty, it was very good.
Back in 1981, at the Charles / Diana bout, there were a plethora of "fuck the Royal Wedding" gigs on the big day. In fact, it was at one of these that I met a future partner-to-be (but don't get me started on HER!). I'm sure that this time there will be a host of similar events, musical and otherwise, although (like with the Facebook thing) I am now too old to know where.
Basically, there are as many antagonists as there are enthusiasts, but the wadge in the middle who don't mind either way will watch it with everyone else, the way they watch the world cup final, or Wimbledon in a disinterested way, yet are reluctant to miss out on the goodwill generated. It therefore appears that the numbers are generally in favour; it's a party after all.
What will actually happen is the nation will unite because "it’s what we do best". We can't produce a world beating football team or Wimbledon champion, or retain a car industry, or function in one inch of snow, but we can do pomp. It will run like clockwork. It will be spectacular. It will cost a fortune, but as no-one knows how much, and couldn't care less because no-one understands just how big the recession is anyway.
It's a feel-good event. We'll never get a welcoming parade for the end of the war in Afghanistan because that war will never end. The England team will never parade the streets of the capital in an open-topped bus with the world cup. But we have our Royals; they’ll do.
And it has to be said, they couldn't have found a better bride. My God she's a belter!
I'm amused that the press are doing their best to portray her as the commonest of commoners, descended from lowly miners no less. This is conveniently ignoring the fact that she is the daughter of multi-millionaire business owners and her father is from staunch Banker/Lawyer stock, going back generations. I suspect that there was a time when Kate's mother was also well fit, and traded those looks on the market for a prize worthy of her own mercantile ambitions. Hence a dynasty is born, and now they have aspired to the very top. Millions in the bank today, and a king for a grandson tomorrow. The icing on the cake.
Anyway, going back to "what we do best". Did you know that Diana got the Queen Mother's funeral? The Queen Mother (literally, the mother of the present queen, who had been Queen previously, married to the king from The Kings Speech) lived a LONG TIME. There was a funeral arranged and budgeted-for, awaiting her demise. When the "Princess Whore" pegged it in that Parisian tunnel with her swarthy paramour, the powers-that-be activated the old-dear's ceremony and commandeered it for the people’s slapper.
The world sat in wonder as Britain put on a flawless display, inch-perfect and to the second, at such short notice. My partner’s brother-in-law, an Albanian, was in awe. When I bemoaned the event he objected.
"That was incredible" he argued. "To achieve such perfection! In Albania we couldn't do that; you wouldn't be able to find the guy!"
(“The guy” being whoever was responsible for organising things, disappeared elsewhere in a dereliction of duty, up to no good. Not unlike George Bush with Hurricane Katrina.)
And so it will be next week. William will stand grinning, with his pasty face and male-pattern baldness inherited from his father (unlike his brother who boasts the thick ginger locks owing to HIS patronage). Kate will be radiant, and do her bit to sell tabloids, gossip sheets and TV specials around the world. Everybody wins.
Except the tax payer. It will be claimed that the income from this, in fees and tourism, will more than pay for it, although no-one will show any statistics to prove this. And no-one will ask to see them.
That's how it works. As the event escalates, the public get drawn in, and once the mass develops its collective consciousness dissent will be shouted down. Why would ANYONE want to spoil the fun? Why are there people who always have to piss on our chips? BOO!
It never makes any sense, but it always happens, and I think it's to do with our inability to do anything else. Royal events of this magnitude are the only thing that won't let us down. We're in our element; it's what we're good at, and we feel good doing it, because we're in control and we have the rulebook.
At football and war, the opposition won't let us win, (although we could if they’d play to the rules!) but there are no barriers to success at a Royal Wedding.
So why aren't there riots?
It's not a political event, and it's difficult to tie the Royals into the Global Capitalist Conspiracy because they are perceived as apolitical, and their money is so old that nobody can remember who died in it’s making.
As for our anarchists, they are just that; disaffected and unconnected from the system. They don't arrange anything. They rely on the G8 summits, or anti-government demos to create a pre-arranged event to which they can just gatecrash and take their photo-opportunity. Look at me; I'm the spirit of 1848! The Royal Wedding is not a protest march. There is no fuel.
There won't be riots because no-one will be bothered to turn up and instigate one. Those who do have the wherewithal are the very same people setting themselves up outside the city demonstrating how disconnected they are, enduring their dissenters' picnic in the Shetland rain..
Yes, it’s a travesty, but like class, and the decline in serving standards in pubs, it’s something we know isn’t right, but that we can’t be bothered to do anything about.
Indeed, if there’s one thing Britain does better than ceremony, it’s a crippling form of begrudging apathy.
Bah!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Is This It?
Today didn't start too well, and the job has been a little bit pointless recently.
Then, today, I find that my inbox includes and invitation to attend a "residential ventilation seminar".
Yes, a residential ventilation seminar!
Is this what my life has come to?
Maybe it's time to consider the tranquilisers/scotch cocktail.
Help yourself to my effects
Then, today, I find that my inbox includes and invitation to attend a "residential ventilation seminar".
Yes, a residential ventilation seminar!
Is this what my life has come to?
Maybe it's time to consider the tranquilisers/scotch cocktail.
Help yourself to my effects
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
To Hell In A HandCart!
OK everybody: there's a recession on!
Except in Northamptonshire, where they have nothing better to do than go round some old lady's house and measure the volume of a cat's purr.
OK, fair enough; if that's what you want to do with your life, let them get on with it, but witnesses inlcuded:
Daventry MP Chris Heaton-Harris, veterinary nurse Kaye James, Diana Johnson from Cats Protection, and British Airways captain Alisdair Tait.
A Member of Parliament and an Airline pilot attended a purring contest?
I'm sorry, but shouldn't they be elsewhere? You know: at work?
Maybe they're they are unemployed already? Possibly this is the future of unemployment?
I obviously know nothing anymore!
Except in Northamptonshire, where they have nothing better to do than go round some old lady's house and measure the volume of a cat's purr.
OK, fair enough; if that's what you want to do with your life, let them get on with it, but witnesses inlcuded:
Daventry MP Chris Heaton-Harris, veterinary nurse Kaye James, Diana Johnson from Cats Protection, and British Airways captain Alisdair Tait.
A Member of Parliament and an Airline pilot attended a purring contest?
I'm sorry, but shouldn't they be elsewhere? You know: at work?
Maybe they're they are unemployed already? Possibly this is the future of unemployment?
I obviously know nothing anymore!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Fukashima!
Whilst the world is gawping at the internicine fighting in the middle east (masquerading as democratic reform) Japan is drowning in radioactive liquid!
Apparently, according to the BBC, water leaking on the sight of the Fukashima nuclear plant is the most contaminated to be found at the plant so far, exceeding 1,000 millisieverts per hour.
(According to the internet a Sievert is a unit of radiation, and not one of those furry creatures that pooh coffee; that's a Civet).
Anyway, there was a moment of light relief, when Tepco , the hapless contractor in charge of the meltdown, originally claimed that radiation levels at reactor No 2 were 10 million times higher than normal. Imagine our relief when then realised their mistake and downsized it to a mere 100,000!
Phew, you had us there!
I also like the way that the "experts" interviewed to fill airtime on the subject are all nuclear industry people who have the look of "oh my god, I'm going to be unemployed!" about them. It doesn't help that they keep reiterating the mantra that this isn't another Chernobyl, MERELY another Three Mile Island.
Oh, that's all right then.
I think we need to keep watching Japan whilst that thing is slow burrowing it's way through the Earth towards us, and possibly emerging to wipe out the Middle East for once and for all!
Apparently, according to the BBC, water leaking on the sight of the Fukashima nuclear plant is the most contaminated to be found at the plant so far, exceeding 1,000 millisieverts per hour.
(According to the internet a Sievert is a unit of radiation, and not one of those furry creatures that pooh coffee; that's a Civet).
Anyway, there was a moment of light relief, when Tepco , the hapless contractor in charge of the meltdown, originally claimed that radiation levels at reactor No 2 were 10 million times higher than normal. Imagine our relief when then realised their mistake and downsized it to a mere 100,000!
Phew, you had us there!
I also like the way that the "experts" interviewed to fill airtime on the subject are all nuclear industry people who have the look of "oh my god, I'm going to be unemployed!" about them. It doesn't help that they keep reiterating the mantra that this isn't another Chernobyl, MERELY another Three Mile Island.
Oh, that's all right then.
I think we need to keep watching Japan whilst that thing is slow burrowing it's way through the Earth towards us, and possibly emerging to wipe out the Middle East for once and for all!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Gadzooks! Fetch My Cape!
London Underground are prepared to roll out wi-fi on the tube.
Boris Johnson is all for it:
"The roll out will finally allow Londoners to use mobile devices to pick up their e-mails and stay in touch with the world while they traverse our subterranean network."
Yes, our Mayor uses phrases like "traverse our subterranean network"!
Boris Johnson is all for it:
Yes, our Mayor uses phrases like "traverse our subterranean network"!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
I Visit Third World At Post Office!
It's been a long time since I had to queue to claim benefits. The last time I claimed dole was 1978, and the final time I "signed on" as unemployed (although untitled to dole) was 1988, when I went to the social security office in Lewisham, where I was the only claimant who wasn't Irish, black or tattooed; and yes, there were some who qualified for all three.
I mention this as I realised how long it has been since I experienced the deprivation and soul destruction that is the long wait to have you number called amongst the hoi polloi.
This line of thought was triggered by a visit to the Post Office in Camden Town, where there is some cruel and unnecessary experiment taking place. You cannot queue in this post office, you have to get a ticket. There are four categories of ticket: Business, Special Delivery, Currency Exchange and Counter Services each with its own numbering system.
You take a ticket, and then wait for when your number comes up. And you wait. And wait.
There are seats provided, but they are full of the crazed, the local indolent and the elderly despondent.
I did the calculation: time to process one person times the number of tickets waiting, divided by the counters available. Ten minutes?
But what is this? People with Business tickets are prioritised! If a business ticket appears on the display board, it becomes the next number at the next available counter. Three business tickets means you just went backwards by three places! Then it is realised that the same applies for Currency tickets!
At least in the time now available, I was able to go back out to the high street and buy a) some tea, milk and bananas, b) a book (Seized, by Max Hardberger) and c) a cake.
On returning, my number was fifth in line to be served. I still had to wait ten minutes.
And the piece de resistance?
Twenty minutes plus after first encountering the squalor, I was finally served; albeit efficiently, but only to find the teller offering to sell me car insurance!
Royal Mail staff are being asked to sell car insurance to people who have been held against their will in a conditions that would appal a Mombassan prison guard!
How does that work? Is this what we've come to?
Now had I been offered euthanasia....
I mention this as I realised how long it has been since I experienced the deprivation and soul destruction that is the long wait to have you number called amongst the hoi polloi.
This line of thought was triggered by a visit to the Post Office in Camden Town, where there is some cruel and unnecessary experiment taking place. You cannot queue in this post office, you have to get a ticket. There are four categories of ticket: Business, Special Delivery, Currency Exchange and Counter Services each with its own numbering system.
You take a ticket, and then wait for when your number comes up. And you wait. And wait.
There are seats provided, but they are full of the crazed, the local indolent and the elderly despondent.
I did the calculation: time to process one person times the number of tickets waiting, divided by the counters available. Ten minutes?
But what is this? People with Business tickets are prioritised! If a business ticket appears on the display board, it becomes the next number at the next available counter. Three business tickets means you just went backwards by three places! Then it is realised that the same applies for Currency tickets!
At least in the time now available, I was able to go back out to the high street and buy a) some tea, milk and bananas, b) a book (Seized, by Max Hardberger) and c) a cake.
On returning, my number was fifth in line to be served. I still had to wait ten minutes.
And the piece de resistance?
Twenty minutes plus after first encountering the squalor, I was finally served; albeit efficiently, but only to find the teller offering to sell me car insurance!
Royal Mail staff are being asked to sell car insurance to people who have been held against their will in a conditions that would appal a Mombassan prison guard!
How does that work? Is this what we've come to?
Now had I been offered euthanasia....
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Richard Ayoade's Submarine
I can thoroughly recommend Submarine; provincial teenage existentialism encapsulated.Actually,I can imagine that the younger audiences may find it a little difficult to sit through due to the cringe factor.
One note: does suffer from the poor light that blights most British Films.
The BIG News Stories
In a week where there is an abundance of news, with nuclear meltdowns, all out war in the Middle East and the chancellor's budget intentions, it's nice to know that the BBC is still able to run stories featuring the phrases booze apocalypse and sodomy ad ban
Blimey!
Blimey!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Did You Know?
Did you know that the raunchy French sex-hit of the 1960s "J'Taime", was originally an advert for cigarettes called "Gitanes"?
Basically, it was the same music, but instead of the sultry moaning of the young chanteause Jane Birkin, it featured the tobacco-induced coughing of Serge Gainsbourg.
Serge later re-mixed the track after marketing testing amongst the target audience indicated that they'd rather listen to someone having it off than hacking it up.
Jane is now the director of France's leading chain of teeth-whiting clinics.
Basically, it was the same music, but instead of the sultry moaning of the young chanteause Jane Birkin, it featured the tobacco-induced coughing of Serge Gainsbourg.
Serge later re-mixed the track after marketing testing amongst the target audience indicated that they'd rather listen to someone having it off than hacking it up.
Jane is now the director of France's leading chain of teeth-whiting clinics.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Ducking Gaddafi's Shit Storm
As the world watches Libya and deludes itself that civil war may produce liberal democracy, there are others that view the footage muttering "Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck" as they see their ill-gotten gaddafi gravy-train gains splash back from the the fan and discolour their careers.
For example: Thatcherite university LSE has been showing just how much money can be had by wallowing amongst dictators and oligarchs.
Elsewhere, the agents of ill-advised, yet admittedly greedy and amoral Celebrities have been phoning them up and breaking the news that the money has to go back.
It's rare that it comes to this, but their loss is our schadenfreude.
For example: Thatcherite university LSE has been showing just how much money can be had by wallowing amongst dictators and oligarchs.
Elsewhere, the agents of ill-advised, yet admittedly greedy and amoral Celebrities have been phoning them up and breaking the news that the money has to go back.
It's rare that it comes to this, but their loss is our schadenfreude.
Oh Dear
For our American listeners: Carsi is arabic for lavatory, and is used in England as a vulgar term for the same.
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