The Occasional Rants of a 30-Something Singleton

Get busy living...

2010-09-10T18:51:00.002Z

...or get busy dying. So said the character Andy Dufresne in Shawshank Redemption and as Ellis 'Red' Redding said, that's goddamn right. I watched it on Monday night for the umpteenth time and the line really struck a chord. You can't change what's gone before but you can do something about the future and if you don't live the future then you're already dead. So I decided to stop moping. Sure, I'm still sad, of course I am, but you can't live your life in self-pity and regret. You have to get over it and move on and do whatever it takes to be happy again. So that's what I'm doing, and right now I'm busy doing a masup/remix for my new DJ set which will see me once again featuring as this month's guest DJ on Bear Golightly's Alchemy Sessions on DI.fm on the 28th of September. Don't forget to tune in!!

And so it ends

2010-09-06T22:25:00.002Z

It would seem that from the language involved there is absolutely no hope of getting back together. The first time I say "I love you" to a girl and it is wasted and I end up spending all my energy in despair and a black, black depression. It all seems so pointless now. I feel as though I will never meet anyone else like this again. Life just looks like a dull procession of routine and drudgery marked only by the growing nights and smudged by the grey, wet days. If this is love, why do we strive for it so hard? It seems, from this viewpoint, a cruel and mocking emotion that builds you up just for the pleasure of pushing you back down like a playground bully. Nothing seems good and pleasurable any more.

Notes of the afflicted

2010-09-05T20:21:00.004Z

It's funny. I never knew it was possible to feel at once so utterly and excruciatingly frightened and sad yet be so filled with a love that brings warmth to the coldest of places. Right now I'm sitting on a busy inter-city train under harsh, unforgiving strip lights making my way home and therefore by extension closer to the reason for that love. And I both dread and long for the experience. This very train, were I to stay on it, would take me to the place where the girl I am so hopelessly and totally in love with lives. A part of me says "Stay on. Go and see her. Make everything OK" but the rational part of me knows that turning up on her doorstep at 11 pm on a Sunday night would not be a good move, and would leave me stranded a long way from home and very much not in favour. There are other reasons too, whic I won't go into partly because they are private but mostly because thinking about them makes me unhappy beyond belief.

I went away this weekend because I knew I needed some time away. I went to Oxford to see my sister and her family, including my newest nephew for the first time (and what a diamond he is - I don't normally get mushy about babies but this kid just completely captivated me).
Problem was, everything I saw and did, I thought "Oh Em would love this - I must bring her here" and then I'd remember and I'd be back at square one. I even bought a couple of books on popular philosophy hoping to take my mind off things but they just make me question my
previous foolish actions all the more. Can't win.

So what am I to do, stuck on this train and in this melancholy? I don't know, is the short answer. If I were a character in a book or a film, I'm sure there would be some amazing speech i could make to her or I'd appear at her door, sweep her off her feet and we'd live happily ever after. But this is real life, not a trashy airport novel or a big budget Hollywood rom com. Real life doesn't, and never has,
worked like that. I am not used to my future happiness and emotions being in the hands of another and maybe that's the problem. I am, I freely admit, quite emotionally naive. But then this is exactly what the girl I love was talking about. She said that to open oneself up to another, to love them and place your feelings and emotions in their hold is the ultimate expression of love and now I understand exactly what she meant. I just hope it's not too late and that she can still find it in her heart to allow herself love as I mow know she surely does.

Listening to: So Tonight That I Might See - Mazzy Star

How to be a tool in one easy step

2010-09-04T08:55:00.001Z

Gentlemen, take note. No matter how much you think you're a decent,
modern man in tune with his feelings and able to share, I guarantee
you there will come a time in life when you conform to every
stereotype of the reticent male there has ever been. I thought I was
modern and able to share and talk about feelings but at the crunch
moment I discovered that in fact I was the complete antithesis of
everything I had always believed myself to be in that regard. It
rather astonished me, but worse than that it may have caused
irreperable damage to a relationship that I value more than any other
I've ever had. And this is the root of what is eating at me. Even
writing this is making my stomach tie itself in knots as it means I am
thinking about that person and the possibility that I will lose them
for good. Trust me, it feels a bit like the arse is falling out of my
eod and I'm going with it.

Love. It's a small word but possibly it has more ramifications than
any other in the English language. It's bandied about a bit too freely
sometimes, but user beware: It is a very powerful word and once spoken
cannot be taken back. If you mean it then say it and be proud. If you
don't then shut your pie hole because saying it without meaning it can
cause enormous pain. But then even if you mean it, sometimes saying it
is the problem.

And here's where this week ties in. I didn't say it as early as i
could, but I should have because it's not something you should hold
back on. Previously I spoke about not knowing what love really was and
my subsequent realisation. Now I'm going to expand on that somewhat.
Love doesn't just 'happen' in my view. It grows from little things and
gets bigger and bigger until it is a thing in it's own right. Once you
realise it's there, it grows quicker. And as is well documented, it is
the most bitter-sweet of emotions.

For me, now, what began as a dawning on me that someone in particular
made me want to be protective and sharing and all the rest of it, has
developed to the point where thinking about her causes my heart to
skip a beat and my stomach to fill with butterflies. I can't bear the
thought of losing her and knowing that if I do then it's my own fault
isn't helping. I want to be with this person all the time and the idea
of being together for a long time doesn't scare me, it excites me. I'm
not saying she's 'the one' or that we'd marry tomorrow, but i am
saying I reckon we've a good shot at it. And to lose that would be
practically a crime and it would destroy me for the forseeable future.

So, gentlemen, I urge you: Learn from my mistakes, don't be an arse
and above all, talk. Talk about your feelings to the special person in
your life. It doesn't make you a gaylord or weak. In fact quite the
opposite. Don't waste a second on stupid and pointless mithering, get
on and do it or I guarantee you'll be sorry.

Listening to: The Somerset Experiments 004 - Steve Pettifer

The Devil hiding in the details

2010-08-31T18:21:00.003Z

So what really happened? Why am I so upset? This is the same person I've been out with and broken up with twice (oh yes, forgot to mention that). Both times it ended because I couldn't work out what I was feeling or if it was right for me. See, the problem with me is that I'm pretty naive when it comes to relationships and feelings, especially love. I've been in love before, once, a long time ago, and didn't even realise until later (too late) that I had been. The tragedy there is that I clearly didn't take away that lesson and learn from it.

You see, here's the thing: I was scared I wouldn't know if I was in love or not. I knew she was certainly very, very fond of me (I won't say love because I didn't know if it was or not. Turns out it was), but for that very reason I didn't want to keep her hanging on whilst I tried to work out which end of the stick was pointy and not poke myself in the eye. I always thought love was like this great big huge thing that lived inside you and was something akin to a great big trumpet fanfare and a flock of white doves ascending every time the person's name was mentioned. But then I wondered if perhaps that was just the result of watching way too many idiotic films (I do have a soft spot for rom-coms but don't tell anyone). I asked my housemate at one point, "How will I know if I'm in love with her?". She replied with a half-smile, "You'll just know". Problem was I was till hung up on the 'what if I don't fall in love with her' scenario and looking out of a massive pink monster with trumpets poking out of it and dove feathers sticking to in the recesses of my soul.

And now the rub: I finally realised that love isn't like that at all. Love is smiling when you think about someone. Love is missing them when they're not around. Love is wanting to protect them, make them laugh when they're unhappy, pick them up when they fall, keep them warm when it's cold. Love is a lot of things and those things are pretty ordinary and everyday, by and large, but the fact that it involves that someone makes it different and special and important. I was so busy chasing shadows and worrying that I might not fall in love that I didn't realise I already had.

Eventually though, love decided that it was fed up with being overlooked and decided to act. Metaphorically speaking, it backed away, took a run up and kicked me square in the balls with steel toe capped size 13's. "Noticed that, didn't you dickhead? Eh? Eh? All this time you've been wrapped up in your own insecurities and all along the thing you craved the most was there, waiting for you, you just had to look with your eyes, not your imagination. And now it's too late. But you noticed me now, eh, you bloody fool, and what have you to say for yourself? What's that? Nothing? That's right asshat, nothing because you and you alone squandered this. Twat.".

As you can see, my subconscious can be pretty scathing about me. And rightly so. Right now I feel as though a significant portion of my insides have been torn out of my chest and the evening sun seems dull to me. Nothing tastes right, nothing feels right and the future isn't bright, it's grey and drab. I have an extensive collection of downbeat, depressing music to keep me company as I wallow in self-pity (oh, yes, I know full well that's what I'm doing but anyone who has a problem with that can go eat a bowl of fuck), and yes, one day maybe I'll look back on this and laugh but right now that feels like a very, very long way off and a very, very remote possibility.

So I'll leave you with this thought: Alfred Lord Tennyson said in 1850 in the poem In Memoriam:27

'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.

However, in addition to that the Del Amitri song You're Gone says

But if you sit down and count the cost of all those losses, there's no profit at all.

Right now, I'm not sure which is right and which is wrong.

What's on my mind?

2010-08-31T08:05:00.000Z

Well you won't be surprised to learn that it's the world of romance,
or lack thereof. In the not too recent past I had everything I could
wish for and yet somehow I managed to fuck it up. Twice. Anyway, to
pinch the title of the classic war film, too late the hero, I finally
got round to admitting to the girl in question that actually I do love
her. Worse, she knew. Worse still, I left it too late and she's met
someone new. What an idiot. After all that moaning about being single
I had it all and then squandered it. Seriously, what planet are we men
on?

As I'm sure you you can guess, dear reader, I am not in a great frame
of mind now. I think it's fair to say you can probably expect a few
pretty depressing posts. I'm now going to go and put my head into the
oven.

Hitting the airwaves

2010-07-09T18:45:00.002Z

One of my mixes has been chosen to be the guest mix on BEar Golightly's Alchemy Sessions this month on the di.fm progressive channel. You can hear the show from 9pm BST and I'll be playing from 10pm on Tuesday July 27th. I'm pretty excited about this so I hope you all tune in and enjoy the show, and make listening to Bear's excellent mixes a regular event (last Tuesday of every month).

Facebook page is here.

That is all.

Shameless plug

2010-06-07T12:27:00.005Z

OK, so I've started doing mixes digitally and I've been working on my first one. It's about an hour long and it's progressive house. I've put it up on Soundcloud and it's available for download from there (for free - aren't I nice?). Find it at:

The Somerset Experiments 001 by deckmonkey

All comments on it gratefully received!

Tracklist:

1) Loneliness (2010) - Tomcraft (Roy RosenfelD Remix)
2) Sweet Dreams - DJ Nick Corline (Instrumental Mix)
3) Wasted - Andy Duguid Feat. Leah (Original Mix)
4) Two Dots - Lusine (Nic Fanciulli Remix)
5) Freeze - Bimbo Jones (Hector Fonseca & Saul Ruiz Dub Mix)
6) Pizzi - Joonas Hahmo (Proff & Vadim Soloviev Remix)
7) Bounce 2 The Beat (DJ Purple & Sam Diego - Club Mix)
8) Avian - Mr Fluff
9) Ariel - Nicky C (Original Mix)
10) Scarlet - Dinka (Original Mix)

Too good to last

2010-04-13T18:01:00.003Z

I knew it. It had to happen eventually. It was too good to be true. As of today, I am single again because I am completely incapable of being emotionally mature and talking about feelings. Well, I can but not until I know someone really, really well. I mean as in at least 6 months, maybe a year. Certainly not 2 months in. Anyway, that fucked it right up, but at least we parted on decent terms and hopefully, we will remain friendly. Still, fucked my week right up when I realised that I had to end it or risk causing a good deal of hurt to the other party. At least I did (with a little prompting) come to that realisation before any serious damage was done.

Fuck it. Back on the shelf - I know my place...

The joys of the NHS

2010-02-23T18:36:00.000Z

Today I had cause to visit an NHS clinic at a fairly large general
hospital. The website said that it was a walk in clinic and stupidly I
believed it. It was right in the sense that, strictly speaking, I
didn't need an appointment. However when I arrived at 5 I was told
there might be a bit of a wait, despite the almost empty waiting room.
No problem I thought, 45 minutes or even an hour is OK.

Over an hour and a half later I am still waiting. According to the
whiteboard in the waiting area there are 9 staff on duty, so how in
the name of frickin Chuck Norris does it take this long to be seen?
Why advertise it as a walk in clinic when they clearly can't organise
a walk in slot properly? I'd have happily made an appointment but the
website was quite glib in suggesting that there'd be no problem just
turning up.

So learn this lesson well - never, ever trust to sn NHS walk in
clinic, always book an appointment.

New year, new start

2010-02-01T21:19:00.002Z

Right, that's it. I've had enough of being a miserable sod. I've decided that it's high time I stopped moping about and made things happen this year. It is all going to change. I started internet dating again the other week and I've been on a few dates and this weekend just gone I met an absolutely gorgeous girl and we really clicked. We both really like each other and we're chatting every day and seeing each other again this weekend. Now, it's early days, make no mistake about it, but everything looks positive at the moment. I don't want to some over all soppy and start eulogising, but she is gorgeous - absolutely stunning. I am genuinely punching well above my weight and she thinks I'm 'ruggedly good looking' which I'm assured is a very good thing. Not that I've ever though of myself that way, ruggedly plain perhaps, but hell I'm not turning down a compliment like that!

I'm smiling. A lot. Which is pretty unusual for me at the best of times, so I am pretty damned happy right now. Of course, maybe it'll fizzle out or whatever, but even if it does (and I sincerely hope it doesn't), I will have had a fantastic time and now know that there are lots of gorgeous girls out there looking for someone just as I am and some of them seem to like me. So no matter what, I'm going to make this year work and that means being proactive in finding someone and finding a new job that actually pays me what I'm worth and then using the extra cash to pay off my debts (not that I have many) and then start saving properly for a house deposit.

But never fear, dear reader, for I will still feel the need to rant now and again, so the old me will still make comedic appearances to bring occasional mirth and eyebrow raising. But I'm not going to allow myself to be miserable through inertia and excuses.

Listening to: Hafdis Huld - Synchronised Swimmers

Insight, foresight, more sight, the clock on the wall reads a quarter past midnight.

2009-12-11T23:27:00.001Z

If you haven't heard this song, you should. One of the most perfect bits of turntablism ever made.

Hahahahahahaha

2009-12-06T03:36:00.003Z

I use a tracker on this blog just to see where in the world people come from who read whatever shite I'm spouting. I got a hit from New South Wales in Australia based on an ask.com search for "second hand Daewoo Matiz". Burn in hell fucker, wankers like you who buy these shit cars should be condemned to eternal agony.

Fuck you and goodnight.

Listening to: Degradead - Out Of Body Experience

What I thoguht about on my way home

2009-11-27T22:28:00.003Z

The drive home from work tonight was wet and wild but the start, as always, was a slow grind from the M4/M5 junction past the M4/M32 junction. It's a busy junction and the mere presence of inclement weather tends to make people drive like complete muppets. But nothing unusual there. Unfortunately there was a stack on the motorway (fortunately for me, on the other carriageway) which occurred in the outside lane. For those not familiar with the British way of describing motorway lanes, that's the on in the middle. It was a low-ish speed affair, so no injuries that I could see, people out of their cars and on the phone to the police and no one needing to be cut out of their cars luckily. But the cause was all too apparent.

Basically, one car had been rear-ended by another, hard enough to turn the front car through at least 45 degrees and push the nose into the armco on the central reservation, mashing the front of the car pretty badly. the front car was a nondescript euro/jap box of some sort but, for the benefit of my British readers, can you guess what make the car which did the shunting was? Have a think. What brand of car almost always seems to be the one which is three inches from your rear bumper? Yes, that's right. If you said BMW then award yourself 10 points and a mildly patronising pat on the back.

My guess is that Beemer boy was driving like a cock which is bad enough in dry, clear daylight conditions but in the dark and wet it is even more stupid. Of course, I didn't see it, but a penny to a pound the moronic middle manager/salesman behind the wheel had his mobile clamped to his ear (which is illegal in the UK, punishable by fines and points on your license in the unlikely event you are spotted by a policeman. I say unlikely because the UK police forces seem to think that speed cameras are a suitable and effective replacement for plods on patrol. Because speed cameras are just so good at catching bad drivers, unsafe cars, people gabbing on the phone etc etc etc). Not only that, but I will bet that he had swung into someone's safety gap - you know, the gap you leave between you and the car in front to enable you to safely react to what's happening in front without having to stamp on the brakes and so you don't hit the car in front. Unfortunately far too many people think that it is their divine right to heave into this gap at will just because their overpriced penis substitute will just about fit the gap.

This led me onto a musing about how the BMW badge still seems to have such cachet with a certain type of person even though, whisper it, BMW is rumoured to sell more of it's 3 series than Ford does of it's once ubiquitous Mondeo. There is something about the blue and white propeller roundel that attracts social climbers, snobs and the sort of person that always likes to keep up with, if not better, the Joneses. Sure, they're well made. Sure, they have some brilliant engines and their efficient dynamics systems have improved their fuel economy and lowered their emissions hugely. But there is something about BMWs that says "I'm a pushy twat". There just is.

These days, Top Gear say that all the cocks have switched from BMW M3s to Audi RS4s (a car which I have to say I would love as it's a real Q car - very unassuming and fast as stink, although I assure you I am not a cock. Well, not normally), but I don't think this is true. Sure, there are some total turds driving Audis, just like any other brand, but by far the biggest proportion of tossers still seems to be driving BMWs, closely followed by Mercedes.

Anyway, whatever the reason behind the crash, the guy in the Beemer will be held to be at fault since he was behind and in all honesty it probably was his fault. Maybe, I am being harsh and he's a perfectly decent guy who had a lapse of concentration and that's ruined his and the other guys day and he's truly sorry and whatnot. But I have my suspicions.

So, I continued my painfully slow journey home and once I got off the congested A46 I thought "Ah ha. Now we can cruise nicely" but sadly, when I turned off onto a smaller backroad through the countryside to head up over Lansdown (a hill that overlooks Bath) I was immediately stuck behind one of those godawful Wendy houses on wheels from Korea (in this case a Chevrolet Matiz, formerly Daewoo who are definitely Korean). These hateful little pieces of crap are small, tinny and furnished with asthmatic engines that would barely power a medium sized blender. They are bought by people with absolutely no idea about cars and they are just the sort of people who have fuck all idea of how to drive as well.

This nasty little abomination tootled along at barely 20mph on a road where overtaking is not possible, braking for every slight bend or oncoming car (to give you some idea, on a clear dry day I can drive the same road at an average of better than 50mph, so that's averaged over slowing for bends and so on. Granted, that's hooning but maintaining 40 on that road is not hard for anyone). I just do not understand why anyone buys one of these things, and there are plenty of them from the likes of Suzuki, Hyundai and others. Sure, they're cheap, but they're built to a price so they are tinny, noisy, shoddily designed and offer all the crash protection of an MDF cupboard (they scraped three out of five stars but one was struck through which is alike a half, because of an "unacceptably high risk of life-threatening injury to the chest in side impact". Your average new Euro box will be considered a failure without at least 4 stars and many are 5 star rated). I will concede that newer models are improving their protection, an obvious result of the EU rating systems which thankfully people pay more attention to these days, but the older models, even slightly older, are just frighteningly poor. The Matiz is made in India, as is the Tata Nano, touted as the worlds cheapest car, and that has all the strucutral rigidty of damp cardboard. I'm sure they're fine for crowded Asian cities where space is at a premium and you never get above 20mph anyway, but on the open road? Bloody stupid.

And its not as if they can really claim green credentials with their weeny engines either. Diesels have better fuel economy and lower emissions. Again, the newest models are improving and they now use either a 1 litre engine or a turbo charged 1.2 litre, but the older models used 800cc, 900cc and 1 litre engines and they were shockingly bad. I used to know someone who bought an 800cc one thinking the car tax would be cheap (see bottom of post for an explanation of how car tax in the UK is charged. It's a bloody stupid system really). Afraid not. My 150bhp 1.9 litre turbo diesel produces less CO2 per kilometre and returns better economy despite having to haul almost 1 1/2 tonnes of German engineering around (it's a VW, not a Beemer in case you were wondering). As a result I pay some 60 quid a year less in tax and the same, if not less, in fuel costs on a like-for-like mileage basis. Granted, mine cost more to buy and I'm sure the servicing is pricier and if something goes wrong then it sure as hell is more expensive, but it actually doesn't go wrong because it's well built (touch wood). So why buy one new or second hand? Get a better car second hand for the same money as a new Matiz and you will find it a much nicer place to be.

Anyway, I now have a theory: Anyone who goes to a garage and is willing to hand over real, proper, hard-earned/hard-borrowed money for one of these stupid cars should immediately have their driving license revoked because they clearly can't drive.

As a final thought, I wondered why, when Chevvy were looking for a route into the Euro car market, they chose to do it by buying a crap brand from a gigantic Korean industrial conglomerate. Daewoo make (or made - I think the Daewoo group went bankrupt at the end of the last decade) stuff. Lots of stuff, from toasters and microwave ovens, through TVs and heavy plant machinery to ships, great big fuck off ships. they started making cars because someone in a meeting somewhere thought it would be a good idea to diversify even further. Except they didn't really. What they actually did was buy the production lines and rights to make the old GM cars and first appeared in the UK market with the Daewoo Nexia, I think, which was basically the old mark three Vauxhall Astra, which was a shit looking car even then. And frankly it didn't get any better.

Gm already has or had a number of brands punting its dubious and not-so-dubious wares in Europe so why on earth did they decide to take on the Daewoo brand and sell even more shite cars under the Chevvy brand? I must confess I don't know what the stock of the Chevvy name is like in the US, but over here it was basically non existent as they had never really sold cars here, so why try and break into a new market with such irredeemably turgid cars? Needless to say, they don't exactly have a large slice of the UK market and I very much doubt that it will get any bigger. Unless they start flogging Corvettes in right hand drive for sensible money, and that won't happen any time soon, sadly.

Anyway, thats a long enough rant for today I think (and there's still the exciting explanation of UK car tax, or Vehicle Excise Duty as I think it's officially called). I haven't done a decent rant about inconsequential crap for ages now and I thought it was about time I stopped posting the self-pitying shit that has been prevalent of late and re-started doing what I created this blog for - writing comedy rants to amuse my mates.

To paraphrase the little Chinese dude in The Hangover (great film by the way, very funny) - Toodle pip motherfuckaaaaaaaahhhhhs!

Listening to: Bear Golightly - Alchemy Sessions 016

A brief outline of UK car tax:

Right. Like I'm going to type all that shit out. If you really give a monkeys bum about how it's done, look on Wikipedia. But I wouldn't if I weere you unless you suffer insomnia in which case go right ahead. It's like Mogadon in print form.

Where's my mojo, man?

2009-11-12T16:19:00.002Z

It's finally happened. I have totally lost all interest in or concern about my job and my career. I think I knew it was coming, and it has been for a while now, but I finally feel like I have totally lost all enthusiasm for what I do for a living. Once upon a time I was totally up for it, always ready to learn something new and get stuck in. Now I just don't care enough to make any effort.

I just read an article related to something I was thinking of doing and to be honest I only understood about 30% of it even though it was based upon my programming language of choice. It has been so long since I worked in a proper software environment that I have managed to survive on blagging it, making it up as I go along and Google searches, but now I realise that this just won't cut it any more but I just don't give enough of a toss about IT to learn it properly. I'm only in it for the money now because nothing else will pay me this well

I don't want to be here any more. I hate it, hate it with a passion. Now maybe its just this job (and I am looking for a new one, it must be said), but what if the next job is just the same? What if I still don't care? I would dearly love to be able to jack in IT altogether and never have anything to do with it again, but I'm afraid I'd be good for nothing at all then. Perhaps if I get a job in an industry I am interested in (and trust me, I am not even remotely interested in the industry I am in now) then things might be different, and it has to be worth a shot.

But I really can't see myself lasting a whole lot longer and then what? I'm buggered that's what. What I'd really like to do is learn to coppice woodland and have my own patch of it and learn to burn charcoal and what not, but woodland is expensive and it doesn't really pay a great deal so I suspect that's a lottery-win type of affair.

My motivation has just leaked away that little bit more...

Here's to you Mrs Robinson

2009-11-07T12:10:00.001Z

Just watched last nights Have I Got News For You which was hosted by
Kirsty Young. Wow. She looked stunning, absolutely stunning. I would
give one of my arms to have even a date with her. Wonder how I could
apply to be her toyboy?

Shameless self-promotion

2009-10-14T17:54:00.003Z

My self-promotion, that is. I've put a couple of mixes online that I recorded a couple of years ago. They're not the best I've ever done as I was out of practice, and the two that are up are very similar in terms of the tracks on them, but it's a start. I might do more soon and put them up, I'll see if I get the chance.

Anyway, they are progressive, tech and tribal house and trance - think Nick Warren, John Digweed, Sasha etc. You can find them here. Enjoy!

Mmmmm....chicken.....

2009-08-19T14:16:00.001Z

I'm part of a free-range future. Join me at ChickenOut.tv!

Now ehere was I?

2009-06-13T23:06:00.003Z

So that list thing never happened. As usual with these things I got bored and just couldn't be arsed. Oh well. Instead, I thought I might share some music with you. Well, I say share, but you might not want to listen to it, but there you go.

You may or may not have heard of Spotify. In case you haven't, it's a free service which allows you to stream unlimited music to your PC for free. Yes, free. You do get an ad every now and then but frankly, it's not intrusive and it's a lot better than radio - no annoying DJs or shitty low rent ads from local carpet tat merchants. You can get it ad free by paying a monthly sub, buit frankly I don't see the point. I have tos ay, I'm not sure how long they can last as it seems like a rather revenue-light busniness model to me, but what do I know?

To use it, download the client from Spotify and then you can stream music, make playlists or listen to other people's playlists and thats how I intend to share music with you, dear reader. I will eventually put some links on the sidebar but for now, here's the spotify links for my playlists (click them once the client is installed and it should open spotify and start playing).

Seriously heavy metal \m/^~..~^\m/

Some downbeat stuff

Some good old fashioned hip hop

My guilty pleasures list

(Note you might need to refresh the page after clicking the link to get it to work - no idea why).

Happy Blogday to me!

2009-04-28T16:17:00.017Z

And so I come to my 100th post. I was going to make this a bit of a discussion on new music delivery models (namely Spotify) and my thoughts on them, but I've decided that can be post no 101 or even a bit futher on.

No, today we are talking lists, specifically, the kinds of list that tell you you should have read/listened to/done, or whatever, the various things contained therein. Of course, these things are largely pointless because they generally involve lists made up by journos or pundits all of whom, have some sort of agenda and so they are far too abitrary, but I have done one or two of late and thought I'd share them with you.

So, first up, a list of 100 books that apparently everyone should read according so some spurious BBC News article.

Title	Author	Have I?
Pride and Prejudice	Jane Austen	No
The Lord of the Rings	JRR Tolkien	Yes
Jane Eyre	Charlotte Bronte	No
Harry Potter series	JK Rowling	No
To Kill a Mockingbird	Harper Lee	No
The Bible		No
Wuthering Heights	Emily Bronte	No
Nineteen Eighty Four	George Orwell	Yes
His Dark Materials	Philip Pullman	No
Great Expectations	Charles Dickens	No
Little Women	Louisa M Alcott	No
Tess of the D’Urbervilles	Thomas Hardy	No
Catch 22	Joseph Heller	Intend
Complete Works	William Shakespeare	Partial¹
Rebecca	Daphne Du Maurier	No
The Hobbit	JRR Tolkien	Yes
Birdsong	Sebastian Faulks	No
Catcher in the Rye	JD Salinger	Intend
The Time Traveller’s Wife	Audrey Niffenegger	No
Middlemarch	George Eliott	No
Gone With The Wind	Margaret Mitchell	No
The Great Gatsby	F Scott Fitzgerald	No
Bleak House	Charles Dickens	No
War and Peace	Leo Tolstoy	No
The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy	Douglas Adams	No
Brideshead Revisited	Evelyn Waugh	No
Crime and Punishment	Fyodor Dostoyevsky	No
Grapes of Wrath	John Steinbeck	Intend
Alice in Wonderland	Lewis Carroll	Yes
The Wind in the Willows	Kenneth Grahame	Yes
Anna Karenina	Leo Tolstoy	No
David Copperfield	Charles Dickens	No
Chronicles of Narnia	CS Lewis	No
Emma	Jane Austen	No
Persuasion	Jane Austen	No
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe	CS Lewis	Yes
The Kite Runner	Khaled Hosseini	No
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin	Louis De Bernieres	No
Memoirs of a Geisha	Arthur Golden	No
Winnie the Pooh	AA Milne	Yes
Animal Farm	George Orwell	Intend
The Da Vinci Code	Dan Brown	No
One Hundred Years of Solitude	Gabriel Garcia Marquez	No
A Prayer for Owen Meaney	John Irving	No
The Woman in White	Wilkie Collins	No
Anne of Green Gables	LM Montgomery	No
Far From The Madding Crowd	Thomas Hardy	No
The Handmaid’s Tale	Margaret Atwood	Intend
Lord of the Flies	William Golding	Yes
Atonement	Ian McEwan	No
Life of Pi	Yann Martel	Partial²
Dune	Frank Herbert	Yes
Cold Comfort Farm	Stella Gibbons	No
Sense and Sensibility	Jane Austen	No
A Suitable Boy	Vikram Seth	No
The Shadow of the Wind	Carlos Ruiz Zafon	No
A Tale Of Two Cities	Charles Dickens	No
Brave New World	Aldous Huxley	Intend
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time	Mark Haddon	No
Love In The Time Of Cholera	Gabriel Garcia Marquez	No
Of Mice and Men	John Steinbeck	Yes
Lolita	Vladimir Nabokov	No
The Secret History	Donna Tartt	No
The Lovely Bones	Alice Sebold	No
Count of Monte Cristo	Alexandre Dumas	No
On The Road	Jack Kerouac	No
Jude the Obscure	Thomas Hardy	No
Bridget Jones’s Diary	Helen Fielding	No
Midnight’s Children	Salman Rushdie	No
Moby Dick	Herman Melville	No
Oliver Twist	Charles Dickens	No
Dracula	Bram Stoker	No
The Secret Garden	Frances Hodgson Burnett	No
Notes From A Small Island	Bill Bryson	Yes
Ulysses	James Joyce	Intend
The Bell Jar	Sylvia Plath	No
Swallows and Amazons	Arthur Ransome	Yes
Germinal	Emile Zola	No
Vanity Fair	William Makepeace Thackeray	No
Possession	AS Byatt	No
A Christmas Carol	Charles Dickens	No
Cloud Atlas	David Mitchell	No
The Color Purple	Alice Walker	No
The Remains of the Day	Kazuo Ishiguro	No
Madame Bovary	Gustave Flaubert	No
A Fine Balance	Rohinton Mistry	No
Charlotte’s Web	EB White	No
The Five People You Meet In Heaven	Mitch Albom	No
Adventures of Sherlock Holmes	Sir Arthur Conan Doyle	No
The Faraway Tree Collection	Enid Blyton	No
Heart of Darkness	Joseph Conrad	No
The Little Prince	Antoine De Saint-Exupery	No
The Wasp Factory	Iain Banks	Intend
Watership Down	Richard Adams	No
A Confederacy of Dunces	John Kennedy Toole	No
A Town Like Alice	Nevil Shute	Intend
The Three Musketeers	Alexandre Dumas	No
Hamlet	William Shakespeare	Yes
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory	Roald Dahl	Yes
Les Miserables	Victor Hugo	No

1 - Read some plays and sonnets at school but by no means the whole lot. I doubt many people have truly done so or have the patience to put up with the overly-wordy prose.
2 - I started to read it but gave up because, frankly, it was shit.

So, thats the books taken care of. Next was a list on The Guardian website regarding 1000 (yes, one thousand!) songs you should hear before you die, or somesuch. And since it's my blog, I am going to list every last one of the buggers in the next post.

Scrubbing up nicely

2009-04-22T18:24:00.003Z

I've just started to watch the eighth (and probably last) season of Scrubs. I started watching this by accident way back 7 or 8 years ago when I caught an episode on a cable channel and thought it was just about the funniest off-beat comedy in recent times (it also helps that it has an eclectic and often rather good soundtrack). The characters are all very good and well acted, the scripts are good and consistently funny, but for me the absolute shining beacon of the program is one of the lead stars, Sarah Chalke (note that this link points to wikipedia as her official site, or what appears to be her official site, seems to have been hacked by some butt monkey bigging up Palestinian suicide bombers).

Most people will probably know her as Becky, the eldest child in Roseanne. But ever since the start of Scrubs she has been extremely foxy and now, 8 years on she is more stunning than ever. I'm not given to fawning over celebs like some star-struck loser but in her case, I make an exception. A lot of people say they have a 'list' - the ten (or five or whatever) essentially unobtainable celebrities who they would be allowed a pass for in a relationship (usually jokingly I'm sure because no matter who the celebrity I can't imagine your partner being overly keen on you bumping uglies with them). Anyhoo, my list consists of just one person and it's her - she really is awesome. Very elegant, classy, classically beautiful and always seems very genuine and down to earth.

Probably turn out to be totally wrong about that and she's actually an evil, Machiavellian crazy woman, but since I'm never going to meet her (much less date her) I will carefully ignore that possibility. So, the point of this post? Well, there isn't one. I just fancied saying how much I fancy the behind off Ms Chalke. And it's my blog so ner.

You know whta?

2009-04-10T02:03:00.002Z

I'm wrecked. Totally wrecked. I'm also still single but things are moving on. Would be happier if I wasn't single but what the hell - life is pretty reasonable. Happy Easter!! In a totally secular way, obviously.

Old friends

2009-02-06T18:45:00.003Z

I was just browsing eMusic to grab this months allowance of music when I happened upon the new album from Telefon Tel Aviv (Immolate Yourself on BPitch Control / Finetunes, 2009), a Chicago based ambient outfit. I've come across them before on the strength of one tune that was on a down tempo mix album and I tried to get it on vinyl but the record company (a small indie label) said there was a limited run of about 1000 copies and they were all gone (although the guy did have a look around their office for me which I thought was rather nice of him).

Anyway, this album might be their last as it seems on of the band members died, but the thing that came to mind was listening to the song that put me onto them in the first place - Sound in a dark Room. I found it on YouTube (where else?) and thought I'd share it with you, my readers. My advice: turn up the speakers or headphones (and if you only have laptop speakers then I strongly recommend headphones otherwise you just won't get the full effect of this), turn down the lights and bliss out for a few minutes.

Love/hate

2009-01-29T23:59:00.002Z

In my day job, I am a software developer working primarily in Microsoft languages and a Database Administrator dealing with Microsoft databases, and I like their stuff on the whole, it's good, it works and it's good to use on the whole. Tonight I had a job to do which involved ensuring that we had a continuously updated copy of our main database on another server which would live in another building so that should the unthinkable happen and our offices be destroyed, we had a working copy of the system elsewhere.

I practised and planned this carefully but of course I still had endless problems, as you tend to do with these things, but got to the end and the last little setting which would mean that the system would run as fast as possible. All of a sudden, I get an error message. Eh? What the hell is going on? This didn't happen on my test system.

I looked into it and it turns out that Microsoft decided, in their wisdom, that in the edition of the database server we're using, this feature isn't supported. You have to get the super duper expensive one for that. Now I should explain that MS like editions - think Windows XP or Vista, there are endless variants such as x64, Home, Home Premium, Professional and what not. They do this with most things and you tend to get more stuff with the pricier editions as you would expect. We are using the second from top edition of this database server and each server requires two licenses (it is based on the number of processors) and at nearly £5000 per license and two servers, that’s not an insignificant amount of cash (although granted, we get charity pricing but the principle still applies).

The next version up is over £20000 per processor (£80000+ total). For just one extra thing in my case. It's not that my version doesn't support what I want to do, it does, just not one of the modes of operation of said feature which is just outright idiotic. Have the feature or don't have the feature, fine, but don't bloody well cripple it. Nowhere did I find this mentioned in my reference texts by the way, including the official course manual from MS themselves that I got from doing the administration course on this product. You have to read a white paper for that. Well gee thanks MS, you shower of bastards. You have just ruined my night (I will have to do all this work again at a similarly late time of night because it’s the only time I can get the business to agree to server downtime).

Oh well, nothing to be done now, so bed time and just look forward to the weekend.

Arse crisps

2009-01-06T19:58:00.003Z

I finally got O2 to actually talk to me and it turns out that because I boght the phone through Dial-a-Phone, I'm not eligible for the free bolt-on until the end of March. Fucksocks.

Well, to cheer me up it's time for the new series of Oz and James' drinking adventures and there's this which is just bloody hilarious.

Chin chin.

Urge to kill...rising...

2009-01-05T17:13:00.002Z

O2. I thought they would be a good mobile network to move to a couple of years ago after Orange went down the toilet (they were bought out by a French Telco and the customer service died a death plus I couldn't get a signal either where I lived or worked which made a change of network a pressing concern). I had previously been with Vodafone for years but for some reason I decided that I should give another operator a go. Anyway, long and short is that I shifted to O2, albeit via the Carphone Warehouse. In truth I hadn't realised I was going via CPW as the website I got the contract through, which I had used before, had been bought out by a subsidiary of CPW. Had I realised then I would not have touched them with a barge pole as you have to use CPW customer service (which provides none of any consequence and is probably the most incompetently run outfit ever to disgrace these shores), but I was stuck with them for the 18 months of the contract.

Once the contract was up I shifted to O2 proper, got a new phone and 18 month contract and a free 19 inch high definition LCD telly. All was good. However, recently I have noticed a few little niggles. Number one, whereas on every other contract I have ever had the unused inclusive minutes rolled over to the next month (with a 3 month expiry), they do not on this contract: Use 'em or lose 'em. Next, I've been finding that my texts are often not getting through to the recipients for a long time. In fact today a picture message arrived on a friend’s phone a week late. I had already re-sent it and therefore been charged twice. I regularly get people telling me they can't call me at all - they don't even get my voicemail - even though my phone is switched on and on the network.

Next up, it seems that O2 doesn't support delivery reports on messages so I can't even see if messages have got through. I also found out that contracts taken out after Feb 1st 2008 (mine was in March 2008) should get a free 'bolt-on' worth £7.50/month. These are extra goodies like more cross network minutes, unlimited landline calls, unlimited texts etc. I was never told this so I haven't been getting it. I am also eligible for O2 'treats' - every month you get a little freebie, perhaps some more minutes, or some more texts or some free data transfer. It might not always be useful to you but sometimes it might. I was never told about this either.

And finally, when I rang up tonight to ask about my free bolt-on, I was told their systems were being upgraded and could I please call back after 10.30am tomorrow. This is not the first time I have rung during the day and been told their systems are unavailable. What sort of incompetent fuckbag of an IT manager (and business manager for that matter) decided that upgrading systems during peak hours was a good idea? Seriously, if I suggest upgrading our systems at work in any way which involves downtime, I have to fight to be allowed to do it at any time other than the dead of Sunday night, but O2 seem to think its OK to have 18 hours of downtime at peak hours. Fucking bellends.

The result of this is that I am seething and frankly I can't wait to dump the twats when my contract expires in 9 months or so and go back to Vodafone. I never actually had any trouble from them so why on earth did I ever leave?

Ignorance, stupidity and head-shaking disbelief

2008-10-21T15:50:00.004Z

In recent years, for an extended period before and during Christmas, Bath has had an outdoor ice rink. Previously it has been sited on Queens Square which is a smallish lovely Georgian park square with trees and a stone obelisk and once the ice rink is up and they've put lighting in the trees it looks lovely and very festive.

Now, I don't know if that is a different rink, but it seems another one was proposed around the back of the sports centre (which isn't very far away if it's the on I'm thinking of), and this is a good thing as far as I can see because it's a harmless festive pursuit and brings a bit of fun and exercise away from computers and PlayStations for kids. Great.

Err, no. Apparently, the rink will be near a primary school, St Johns Roman Catholic primary school to be precise, and they've decided that it can't be allowed to go ahead because, obviously, the rink will be used by paedophiles to groom children. What? How the fucking hell did they come to that conclusion? Have we, as a society, become so paranoid that we won't allow kids to do anything at all just in case? Do these people really think there's a paedo behind every tree?

It would seem so. Of course this is not helped by Suntards (and Mailtards, Mirrortards and Expresstards), that enormous collection of dribbling, mouth-breathing, hairy-palmed knuckle draggers who believe every damn thing they read in the tabloids, all of which is written by ignorant, lazy cretins who merely tap into whatever base prejudice suits at the time to sell papers regardless of fact, truth or accurate reportage.

So, the long and the short is that thanks to some obnoxious god bothering turds, kids in Bath will be denied a bit of festive fun because they are convinced that anyone who isn't married and needs to prostrate themselves to a shyster every Sunday (i.e. anyone who's not one of them) must be a kiddie fiddler out to molest every Tom, Dick and Sally. Wow, bet their households are fun places to grow up.

Perhaps they should pay more attention to real life and maybe even have a listen to some modern rules of life, written by someone who actually understands the world (Scroobius Pip in this case):

"Thou shalt not think that any male over 30 that plays with a child that is not their own is a paedophile: Some people are just nice"

'Scuse me..

2008-10-04T01:13:00.001Z

...while I fuck about with the design. It's crap and always has been. I just can't decide what to do so it will look even more crap for a bit.

Sorry.

Sweet holiday bliss...

2008-07-21T22:23:00.001Z

Ah, holidays. This is the first day of mine although I've been on leave since the middle of last week. It would seem that I have hit the jackpot weather wise as my quite badly burnt face will testify and that was from just wandering about. You might wonder, quite reasonably, why I'm blogging on my hols, but it seemed like a good idea as i might have the time to compose a good one. Time will no doubt tell.

Anyway, I'm on the Isle of Wight which is a stuning location and the journey here was a bit of a trip down memory lane as i went through Southampton, my old stomping grounds. The hotel is...well, e bit of a cliche to be honest. It's full of coffin dodgers so the temperature is about the same as that of molten lead and a bit on the twee side but it's cheap (ish). The ferry crossing was smooth, sunny, warm and unhurried which sent me to sleep - brilliant.

The day has been slightly marred however by some twerp of a youth who i spotted shining a laser pointer at oncoming traffic outside my hotel so I actually rang plod to report it because that would piss me off royally if it was shone at me. Anyway, I have four more days of relaxation and lounging about to go so I shall get on with it. Now, where's the bar?

Hello? Still here?

2008-07-16T19:29:00.002Z

Yes, I know, another hole the size of an open-cast diamond mine but it's my blog and I'll forget it periodically if I want to.

Actually, today is a good day as I have just embarked on ten or so days away from the office and have a few things planned which ought to keep me out of mischief and help relax me a bit. More on that in another post in the next couple of days.

For now, I am just going to say that I swear that I will never again write about the perils of internet dating. Not because it finally worked out for me (it didn't) but because I no longer need it. Yes, I am no longer single which rather buggers up the blog title, but fuck it. That said, the internet was involved but neither I nor my now girlfriend were looking for someone when we met and it wasn't on a dating site; it just happened, honest officer.

Suffice to say that I am currently feeling like a bit of a teenager which can only be a good thing considering yet another part of my body has finally given way (right knee, cartilage tear). To paraphrase some comedian, I forget who, these days I can be injured by air. I go to sleep fine and wake up injured. Sheesh. Anyway, I'm cock-a-hoop at the moment and long may things stay that way. I promise to remain my grumpy, vitriolic and curmudgeonly self on here though as this is where I wring out my spleen. Eugh. Sounds grim.

Currently Listening To: The Wombats - A Guide To Love, Loss and Desperation

Grrrr...

2008-05-28T20:24:00.003Z

In lieu of a decent post for ages (or indeed, anything at all), here's a list of Things That Have Annoyed Me Recently:

1) Traffic lights, especially those in Bristol. They're out of phase and often go wrong, especially the ones on the stupid 'showcase' bus lanes so that they change every 10 seconds (yes, really) whether there's a bus coming or not. All they do is cause congestion because there are too many.

2) Janet Street Porter. Stupid, loud, obnoxious, bag-faced troglodyte. Whenever I see her on TV I have an irrational urge to straighten her teeth by the swift application of a sizeable knuckle sandwich.

3) The Cobra Beer 'prime time' sponsorship ads on Dave (UK digital TV channel which shows a lot of Red Dwarf, Top Gear, Mock the Week, QI, Have I Got News For You etc). The premise, for those not in the know, is a couple of blokes in the pub drinking Cobra (a perfectly decent lager, by the by), having a pseudo-philosophical discussion which is meant to be amusing or droll, e.g. "Thing is, why isn't there a mouse flavoured cat food?". Here's a thought for you, you annoying, unfunny pillock: How about we hunt down the over-paid, gak-addled nonce case ad exec who came up with this twaddle and drown him in a vat of pickled eggs for the good of humanity?

4) Lane ditherers. MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND WHICH LANE YOU'RE IN AND STICK TO IT, YOU BASTARD.

5) Road works. Why on earth do they always take 16 weeks to complete (this is the figure often quoted on the signs warning you that your route to work is being disrupted. Again.)? Doesn't seem to matter what they're actually doing, it's still 16 weeks.

6) Leslie Ash. Just because.

There's a lot more besides but I really can't be arsed to do any more and anyway, I'm sure you, dear reader, get the picture. Especially if you actually know me.

Listening to: Born Ruffians - Red, Yellow & Blue

Big boys toys

2008-04-28T18:31:00.002Z

Really big. I mean HUGE. A new military hovercraft has come into service and it's the biggest there has ever been. It's 57 metres long, weighs 500 tonnes, has five (yes five) 10,000hp gas turbine engines and positively bristles with guns and missiles and is even stealth capable. It looks exactly like the kind of military vehicle that is badly drawn by small boys everywhere and I have to say, hands in the air, I think this is bloody marvellous.

So whose is it? The Yanks are the obvious choice because everything they have is usually bigger and better (so they say - personally I think the HMMMVEE, or however you spell it, is a crock of poo), but it's not them. How about the Brits? We invented the hovercraft after all (or at least Sir Christopher Cockroft did). Nope. It costs money therefore it's not ours.

I'll tell you who it belongs to. The Greeks. "The say what now?", I hear you cry. Yes the Greeks have a military too and for some odd reason they feel they need this leviathan. I'm not going to argue because frankly it's too cool not to exist, so as long as it's in the hands of someone not renowned for fighting wars (at least, not in the last couple of millenia) then that's fine by me.

Thoughts on London Village

2008-04-14T21:32:00.003Z

Ahh London. Nary a week has gone by since I ridiculed the actions of Westminster Council and I am in the very borough (or whatever) that I poked fun at. Why? I am on a works induction course, all three days of it. Today was the first day and I wasn't impressed. Not only was most of the course irrelevant to me (and so will most of the rest of it be) but I am in a city which I dislike more than any other I have ever visited (including Bradford, a town I found to be dirty, run down and thoroughly dislikable. Mind you, the people were invariably friendly which was a huge saving grace and one which London most certainly can't lay claim to).

So, I don't like London. Why not? Well personally I think it is dirty, unfriendly, expensive and staffed by surly and even down right rude people. Also it takes two hours to get here at some ungodly hour (well, if I'm travelling for work at any rate) on an uncomfortable train that stinks of burning every time the damn thing slows down and where it makes no odds if you've booked a seat or not - you still won't get to sit down because some ignorant fuck thinks that they can sit wherever they choose even though there is a reserved label on it.

Add to that the prices for, well, everything, the fact that every bloody restaurant adds on a 10% service charge "for your convenience" whether you like it or not, and frankly you come up with the seventh circle of hell staffed by shitheads working for unscrupulous crooks. Granted tonight I was on for free something-or-other (I couldn't make out what it was through the heavy Italian accent) but judging by the way the waiter was standing and looking at me it may well have been a good rimming, which I'm only too happy miss out on.

The final straw? I'm staying at a hotel in the West End (so the blurb says but frankly it could be anywhere as my geography of London is pretty shit). Just 100 yards or so away are the offices of BBC Radio 1, Regents Park the same distance the other way and Oxford Street just 10 minutes walk away. The basic price for this room at well in excess of £200 per night (although I'm sure my employer got a corporate rate). Now, the only truly good hotel I've stayed in was the Cumberland at Marble Arch which really was quite nice: Good, well decorated and appointed rooms, good food (their eggs Benedict really was excellent and there was a Gary Rhodes restaurant which served pretty decent grub). Sadly, this one is, well, shit. Despite smoking in public places being banned last year (or the year before, I forget which) which I thought extended to chuffing in hotel rooms, this rooms absolutely reeks of stale smoke. Now granted that maybe I am wrong and you are allowed to smoke in hotel rooms, but there's no ash trays in here. I must find out and mention it to the office next time they're booking me a room. Oh, and I appear to be directly over a tube line which is really REALLY getting on my tits.

Anyway, only two more days to go then I can get away from this dump and back to civilisation.

Disclaimer: I did actually find a pub serving Westons Organic Vintage Cider on draught on the way back from the restaurant so all is not entirely lost but seeing as the inhabitants of this place simply have no idea how cider should be served since their idea of sophistication is a bottle of Magners, it wasn't the best.

In other news

2008-04-08T20:25:00.004Z

Lets go crazy with the posting today.

Some crazy kids at Westminster Council have decided to copyright the design of the street signs which you find all over that part of London in order to protect the image of the area as a top class tourist destination. Exactly how? Well, they claim it will prevent dodgy street hawkers punting hooky gear with slightly iffy copies of the street names on them. Wow. I'm sure that'll really help London's image more than, oh I don't know, cleaning the streets properly, not ripping everyone off for pretty much everything, getting rid of the miserable cat-voiced car-hating communist who runs the city like a personal fiefdom or maybe, just maybe, having public servants who aren't surly and unhelpful. Yeah, I can see the relief etched all over the faces of global tourists everywhere now they know that their souvenir fridge magnets will be proper licensed replicas, keenly priced to reflect the not-at-all obscene cost of licensing the design.

Any readers in central London - that's your tax dollars that is.

Get over it

2008-04-08T16:22:00.002Z

This gentleman seems genuinely proud of the fact that he gave up his job in order to attend every single day of the Diana and Dodi coroners inquiry with the words 'Diana' and 'Dodi' painted on his forehead and cheeks respectively. He even thinks he'll go down in history for it and that there will be a portrait of him in Kensington palace in a hundred years time. I have just one word to describe him:

Twat.

'Nuff said.

Helping make a difference

2008-03-15T13:50:00.004Z

I've been an avid Terry Pratchett reader for years and even once met him (briefly) when I queued for hours with my mate Rich to get my copy of Soul Music signed (and monogrammed with a little scythe) back when I was at uni, so like all Pratchett readers I was saddened to learn a while back that he has a rare from of Alzheimers, a disease which is little understood and which needs a lot of research to try and find effective treatments.

It's a terrible thing to happen to anyone but when the mind involved is one which has devised a fantasy world that has brought enjoyment to so many tens (maybe hundreds) of millions of readers around the world it is an especially cruel irony. Fortunately, in typical style Pratchett isn't letting it get him down and has vowed to write on while he still can. He has also just announced that he is personally donating £500,000 to the Alzheimers Research Trust as there is very little funding for research into this disease when compared to, say, cancer (not that cancer research isn't worthy of the funding but Alzheimers affects more people than you might think and the indirect effects on family members are as bad if not worse than those of cancer).

However, that's not it. A fan read about this and thought well, if we can get half a million Pratchett fans to donate a pound each then it will match his donating and make a round million (or maybe more - who knows?). Well, Pratchett has given me much pleasure over the years and continues to do so, so I thought "Damn good idea" and immediately donated five quid which is not even the price of a couple of pints (plus the government gives back the tax I paid on it which makes it over six quid). If you have enjoyed Terry's books and you can spare even a quid, then I urge you to donate to the Alzheimers Research Trust and tell them it's in his honour.

Lies, damn lies and...politics

2008-03-12T17:41:00.004Z

Today is budget day in the UK. Woo and indeed quite literally hoo. Generally it's just a way for the incumbent Chancellor of the Exchequer to tell us that overall he will be rummaging about a bit deeper in our collective pockets over the forthcoming year in order to finance illegal occupations, ministerial expenses and monolithic 'national' projects which inevitably cost a fortune and bring precisely no benefit to anyone. Sorry, I meant improvements in healthcare, education and social infrastructure, of course.

Anyway, little of it ever comes as a surprise and today was no exception. Although Alistair Darling did say that the fuel tax hikes would be delayed, inevitably the tax on alcohol and tobacco rose. I don't much care about tobacco as I no longer smoke (except for poncing the odd tab off mates whilst utterly arseholed) but beer is a depressingly obvious target for tax hikes. Two things struck me about this today, though, one of which was directly related to the tax increase itself and the other to how it was reported in one specific instance.

Normally, on my daily commute I listen to Radio 4 but this evening, for a change I turned to Scott Mills on Radio 1 as he can be quite funny. Come 4.30 I caught the news on said radio station (they call the news slot "Newsbeat". Dynamic, huh?) and I must say here and now that these bulletins are not noted for their in-depth probing and analysis of the days events. They almost always play music in the background which I find irritating and mostly inappropriate and it also tends to be presented in a rather banal and condescending fashion (not that the majority of Radio 1 listeners are likely to notice or care even if they did because I'm sorry to say but most young people now seem woefully uninterested in news that hasn't been dumbed down to at least Sun levels if not below). Anyway, they reported the 4p per pint tax increase on beer and, naturally enough, interviewed a couple of beer drinkers for their thoughts. It sounded suspiciously like they were in Manchester, from the accents, but the news team must have gone into the roughest pub they could find and picked the most leathered person in the bar (think Frank Gallagher from Channel 4's highly amusing Shameless). The guy was almost incoherent but just about managed to convey that he thought it was a diabolical thing to do. Well he would - he's a drunk. A sober and rational person would, presumably, not have been as entertaining for the more retarded end of the listener spectrum.

The second thing about this tax increase is that we are told it will supposedly help in the fight against binge drinking. What? Exactly which fuckwit came up with that gem, because the bloody idiot needs to be fired right now? As usual, the term 'binge drinking' has been misused and misunderstood. What they really meant were the twin problems of underage drinking to excess and legal drinking to excess where the former act leads to unruly and anti-social behaviour. According to the technical definitions of binge drinking (somewhat nebulous as every 'expert' seems to differ but basically assume more than 6 units of booze in one sitting, so three pints of lager or beer, 3 doubles or 3 small glasses of wine. Incidentally, even the BMA can't even decide on a definition: "The British Medical Association states that 'there is no consensus on the definition of binge drinking'") I binge drink regularly, like many people, but I don't vomit in the streets or start fights or vandalise everything in sight because I have morals (for starters) and I also know when to stop drinking.

But that is all beside the point. Lets consider a fictional character whom we shall call Dwayne (or Ashley or Jordan - you know where I'm going with this). He's 22 years old and he might even have a job because at least he's not as bone idle as some of his contemporaries who are happy to sponge off the state and impregnate random pikey girls (named Chardonnay, Courtney or Jade probably). Anyway, come Friday night Dwayne, who probably lives at home and pays no rent, has a few quid of wages in his pocket and he wants to go have a few drinks with his mates, which is reasonable enough as I'm sure most of us feel that way on a Friday night at some point or other. So he dons his favourite Burbarry (sic) cap and jumper combo which he got off the market, some Bench jeans and a box-fresh pair of white trainers, adds his chunky Elizabeth Duke finery and checks his hat is at the regulation angle (i.e. the peak is pointed skywards for maximum retard value) and he trots off down the Kings Head to meet his chums. During their stay at the pub, Dwayne and his mates consumes six or seven pints of Stella (it's always Stella) each and then decide that, as it's going on for 11, they ought to head for a local Niteclub (sic).

So they arrive at Ritzys or wherever having been boisterous along the way, singing and shouting and whistling at 'birds' (or bitches or hos - depends on what brand of godawful American 'urban' drivel Dwayne listens to) and having maybe stopped to relieve themselves in the street because, well when you got to go, you got to go, right? Since Ritzys is open until 2 or 3am, they consume another four or five pints of lager (probably still Stella, but Ritzys might not be as upmarket as the Kings Head so perhaps it's Carlsberg this time). So now it's kicking out time. Dwayne and his mates are well oiled now and each has either copped off with an interchangeable Chardonnay/Courtney/Jade, thinks they have or has been beaten to it by some bloke who's been giving him the evils all night, or so he thinks. Now they pour out into the street in search of somewhere to copulate or a kebab (possibly both at the same time) but that bloke is still giving Dwayne the evils so he decides, now that he's full of piss and vinegar and Dutch courage, to have it out with him, so he, backed up by those mates who aren't in flagrante delicto wander over and the verbal begins, followed by a bit pushing and quickly there's a fight. Blood is spilled, maybe people end up in hospital and the police are inevitably involved. Dwayne, of course, will protest his innocence to anyone and everyone, but that's besides the point. He's then lavishly sick all over the street and someone's doorway as the mix of chemical laden premium lager, lard laden kebab and unaccustomed physical activity combine.

So what is the point of this little story? well, it's this: In our example, Dwayne drank perhaps 10-12 pints of beer on his night out which is very definitely classed as binge drinking and he caused the problems that every talking head on the news knows are associated with every single binge drinker (because they're too damn ignorant to understand that the half bottle of wine they have when they go home is probably binge drinking and that other people might just as easily enjoy alcohol peacefully). But the tax increase is 4p per pint so Dwayne has only paid 40-48p more than he would have done to do the same thing the previous week and that sure as hell won't stop him from doing it. Nor will it stop the underage drinkers. If you want to do that through tax then the tax increases have to be of the order of 100% or more of the cost of a drink but then you unfairly penalise the vast (and I mean vast) majority of people who drink alcohol but don't cause any of these problems. So why claim that this is what you are trying to do? Because it's easier than telling the truth which is "We can't manage our finances and we need to ream you, the public, a bit more to make up for all the cash we have pissed away in our incompetence". You can apply the same argument to the so-called 'green' taxes too.

I'm not actually that angry about it, despite what it may sound like, because this is nothing new, certainly from this government and I dare say from previous ones too so I tend to view it with a feeling of resigned acceptance because at least I can see though the lies and see it for what it is.

Anyway, that's enough about that. In other news, Jeremy Clarkson was pictured by a member of the public apparently using a mobile phone whilst driving at 70mph on the M40 this week. Naturally the concerned citizen, not at all lured by the prospect of a cash reward for a juicy story, submitted the photo and the tip off to the Daily Mirror, an alleged newspaper that I wouldn't even wipe my arse on, who had a field day (see the photo on their site). It seems that the police are now reviewing this to see if they can prosecute Clarkson for the offence (and for sure, it is an offence to use a hand-held mobile phone whilst driving).

Now hang on a mo. Apparently, the picture was taken by a girl who was in a car with her boyfriend who was allegedly doing the driving. But the picture was taken out of the right hand side of the car and I see no evidence of the cars window or door so it must have been taken right up against the glass. That means that either the car they were in was left hand drive, or she was in the back of the car. But how many people would get in the back of the car when there are just two of you in it? I smell a rat here. If they decide to prosecute Clarkson off the back of this then surely they should be taking a very close look at the circumstances under which the photo was taken.

TTFN

PS I have taken the unusual step of registering for Glastonbury this year. If I manage to get a ticket and go I shall no doubt have tales to tell afterwards. Once the cider has worn off, that is.

Batten down the hatches...

2008-03-09T19:12:00.002Z

...It gon' rain! A lot by all accounts, and it'll be windy enough to ruffle the undergarments of incautious ladies who have a penchant for mid-20th century underwear and quite possibly take your chimey pot off or uproot a tree. I love storms so I hope this one comes with all the trimmings like thunder and lightning. According to the Met Office it'll most likely be the worst storom of the winter, natures last crack of the winter whip before spring proper starts to really get a grip on things. Watch those falling trees and the like folks.

Hereditary title - hereditary stupidity?

2008-03-01T08:56:00.002Z

One of the few remaining hereditary peers has been gobbing off about nurses at the Royal United Hospital in my adopted city of Bath. The peer in question is Lord Mancroft, a former heroin addict (and also cocaine, alcohol and pills), Old Etonian and so far as I can see a general waste of space and deeply unqualified to be a law maker for any reason other than the fact his dad was one.

The nature of the slur stems from a stay at the RUH for Mancroft in august 2007 and in essence he claims that the nurses were grubby, lazy, drunken and promiscuous. Quite a litany of accusations there so let’s look at this a bit more closely.

First off, I'll declare an interest here in that I know nurses and other staff from the RUH and also know plenty of people who have been treated there. From my own personal experience, they are dedicated, highly trained and maintain excellent standards and personally I believe this claim to be an ill-judged and poorly executed complaint regarding perhaps one or two individual staff, and even then my belief is that it is exaggerated greatly.

So: The 'grubby' claim. Somehow I doubt it - I have never met a nurse or doctor (and there are even a few in my family) who didn't take cleanliness seriously, seriously enough that they would certainly pick up their own colleagues on it if they felt there was a slip in standards, so I very much doubt that Mancroft encountered nurses who were routinely grubby. I would allow that perhaps one individual slipped up once (everyone is human) but to suggest that all the nurses were dirty and unhygienic is a monumental slander.

OK so now onto lazy. Again, I rather doubt that as most medical staff have more to do than they have time to do it in. No specific allegations made, you'll note. I'm pretty sure that this over-privileged oaf wouldn't know a hard days work if it kicked him in the balls so I don't know what qualifies him to make such a criticism.

Drunken and promiscuous. Frankly, neither of these things are any of his business. What a nurse does in his or her private life is of no consequence to the level of care they provide to patients unless they actually arrive at work drunk which is a different kettle of fish. Promiscuity has absolutely nothing to do with care levels whatsoever and to suggest as much is totally disingenuous.

So in short, he has managed to slander every single female nurse in the country (he makes no mention of male nurses at all) and then extended those accusations from nurses to young women in general. His arrogance and piousness is staggering. Granted, we al make mistakes, we all deserve a second chance but that means he of all people should understand that mistakes can be made. To equate a possible experience with one or two individuals to an entire profession and thence to young women in general is not just naive but immensely insulting.

What I would like to know is this: Why did he not make a complaint at the time to hospital administrators, managers or senior clinical staff? If it was so bad, why did he wait six months and then use his peerage as a platform to rant about it? As I said, I can accept that one or two individuals might let their standards slip but if that were the case and they were not being pulled up about it, why on earth did he not make a proper complaint? He claims that he knows the nurses were 'drunken and promiscuous' because they talked to each other about their private lives over patients beds. OK, I would take the point that perhaps it should be pointed out to the nurses in question that the time and place for such conversations is not over the heads of patients but again, a complaint to the ward sister or a doctor would have sufficed.

All I can say is that I hope next time this odious stuck-up tool needs medical attention he goes elsewhere and leaves the nursing staff of this country, 99.99% of whom are hard working, dedicated and highly professional, to care for people who actually appreciate just how lucky we are to have a free healthcare system. Oh, and isn't it about time we got rid of the rest of these inbred hangers-on and had people who actually ahd some idea of what they were talking about making our laws instead of dim-witted former drug addicts? If we wanted the latter, we could simply make Kate Moss, Pete Doherty and Amy Winehouse peers of the realm.

Cack ad made good

2008-02-18T21:45:00.002Z

Ever seen a Picture Loans advert? Ever thought that you'd rather burn out your own eyes with a flaming stick covered in poo than take out a loan with them? They've actually been censured by the ASA for being flippant about borrowing large amounts of money which become monstrous amounts when repaid. Well, someone has turned the banned advert on its head and done quite the best spoof I've seen in ages. Bring it on!

Valentines? No thanks - I've had enough consumerism for now

2008-02-14T22:18:00.002Z

Valentines. Depends entirely on your point of course but I've always seen it as a rather cynical commercial day intended to screw money out of people in the gap between Christmas and Easter. Probably wouldn't be so bitter if I hadn't spent so many single but never mind.

Anyway, if you're unlike me (in other words not a bitter, twisted, cynical, curmudgeonly old arse), then Happy Valentines. Hope your postman had more of a struggle than mine.

Listening to: Corrosion of Conformity - America's Volume Dealer

Back off the law, beardy

2008-02-08T08:20:00.000Z

It seems that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams (weird-beird Welsh God botherer who likes to be seen as a bit mystical and druid like) has suggested that adopting elements of Sharia law into the UK legal system is "inevitable". Quote from the BBC news website:

“Dr Williams said the UK had to "face up to the fact" some citizens did not relate to the British legal system.”

I don't give the tiniest shit if they relate to it or not. If I moved to a Muslim country they damn sure wouldn't change their legal system to accomodate my background and belief system and why should they? You choose to live in a country therefore you choose to abide by it's rule of law. If Dr Williams is so concerned about it why doesn't he piss off somewhere else and see just how likely other countries are to accomodate him? Then he might, might, just have an inkling of how utterly stupid he is being.

Religions are fine by me so long as they stay out of my way and don't try to dictate what I can and can't do through law, because I consider them to be nothing more than an outmoded crutch for the mentally weak and those unable to accept responsibility for their own actions. Law should be entirely secular as far as I'm concerned because religion is a personal choice and practicioners have no right whatsoever to foist their beliefs and morals on me. All in all, this is a great example of how utterly ridiculous the Church of England in particular has become and how irrelevant to the running of a country they really are. If you must have a mouth piece, at least choose one who isn't a bloody fool.

You're having a tin...

2008-01-24T22:41:00.000Z

Bath that is (cockney rhyming slang, for the uninitiated).

WARNING: jargon-laced poker discussion ahoy. If you don't understand poker then you won't have a scooby what I'm on about (see what I did there?).

It's just not been my evening. I was playing in a monthly game that I've become involved in, which is a tenner buy-in with unlimited re-buys (fiver each) for the first hour and then an opportunity to take a top-up as well after the hour (five or ten quid, your choice). It started well enough with me doubling my stack in the second hand with my rockets standing up against cowboys but that was the high point really. I had pocket pair after pocket pair destroyed by pretty rubbish hands that basically got very lucky having been on a bluff in the first place and I made it to the final table only by re-buying twice and taking a ten pound add on. My 30 quid finally disappeared after I went all in with pocket twos: Not a great hand but I figured I had enough chips to chase off speculative players and take down a reasonable pot. Sadly, I was called by my nemesis of the evening and he had, of course, ace-queen. Technically, I was ahead as my pair was already in the bag, so to speak, but naturally enough the first two cards on the flop were an ace and a queen and there were no twos anywhere to bale me out so I was out in seventh for no cash (although I do score points for the league so all is not lost).

To pass the time, those players out early tend to start a pot-limit cash game so I figured I'd have a fiver in that as it's 10 and 20 pence blinds. Last time we played I made some of my money back and this time seemed to be looking the same as I was soon over a fiver up. Then came pocket sevens and I started raising but I had a guy following me in so I put him on a couple of face cards. The flop came 2-8-2 and the pot by this time was a healthy nine quid or so, so I went all in for just over a fiver figuring the face cards won't bother chasing their hand considering the relatively high amount of cash involved in the hand. Sadly, it turns out I'd been followed into the hand by 8-3 off suit (not even soooted!) so the lucky bastard had made a bigger two pair than me and that was my fiver gone. I gave up then as that's enough wonga to lose in an evening.

By the way, anyone balking at the prospect of losing 35 quid in an evening on cards can stop with the sanctimony right now: I bet you spend much more than that on an evening out. I usually don't drink when playing poker and since I was driving I was definitely not drinking. I had good fun and there was a chance of making a not inconsiderable amount of cash. Plus it is a once-a-month gathering so it's not exactly high roller stuff. People usually forget that for every problem gambler there are thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of gamblers who do not have a problem and I'm one of them. We are not all hopeless addicts who gamble away our life savings!

Nnnnnnnngarhhhhh!!!

2008-01-23T21:25:00.000Z

'They' say that moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do in life and I can well believe it. I've moved plenty of times before but mostly of my own volition (with the exception of two previous moves one of which was rather fraught as I was trying to get away from a psychotic landlord who wanted to break my legs but the other time was due to a tenancy not being renewed but I had 3 months to find somewhere else). This time it is again thanks to the non-renewal of tenancy not, I hasten to add, through any fault of our own or indeed anyone elses fault, but this time my housemates and I have just five weeks to find somewhere else. Two of them are sorted because they had alternative arrangements they were able to call into play pretty quickly but myself and my other housemate have decided we quite like sharing as we get on well and are looking for somewhere.

Problem is there aren't too many two bedroom houses out there and those that there are tend to be quite small which is a bit of a nuisance for us. Even worse is the general lack of a garage or shed which is the biggest problem as a garage is good for storing all manner of guff, bikes, golf clubs and so on. Of course the very tight timescales don't help either. So although I don't have the added stress that buying a house entails (solicitors and their exorbitant fees, surveys, mortgages and so on) I still have a hell of a lot to deal with in next to no time.

I am actually viewing a place in the next few days that will do pretty well but I don't think it has a shed and it definitely has no garage. I can get a shed for less than £150 but sadly, the problems don't end there as the house has no white goods either, so a fridge freezer, washing machine and hoover are the bare minimum which, even buying second hand, is going to set us back £75-£100 each.

It's not often I resort to too much swearing (well, OK, regular readers will know I do swear quite a bit from time to time and those who know me in the real world know full well that I swear like a docker with tourrettes) but I just have to say that I really, really fucking HATE moving house.

And no, I am not buying for several reasons:

1) It's bloody expensive and I will not mortgage myself to the eyeballs to be able to buy a poky little flat somewhere where my car is likely to get stolen and I to be stabbed (and I can barely afford a mortgage that will buy anywhere let alone a hovel).

2) I have now 4 1/2 weeks to move somewhere.

Frankly, it's getting to me. I think that in the next couple of years I may have to seriously consider moving abroad because I just don't think I can afford to live in this country any more. And that sucks more than I can tell you.

Must check the diary properly

2008-01-21T22:14:00.001Z

Apparently the most miserable day of the year was in fact today. Well, all Mondays in January are pretty shit to be honest, especially when you're up at the crack of dawn in the dark to go to work, it's windy, wet and grey and you haven't had enough sleep. Roll on, err, February? No, no that's not a lot better as it contains that day of the year to which I have a particular aversion, St Valentines. How about March? Yeah that'll do - there's St Patricks day on the 17th and there's a long weekend off work thanks to Easter and of course Easter eggs which always seem to taste better than normal chocolate. Plus the daffodils and maybe even early tulips will be out and I will, by hook or by crook, have moved house (unwillingly but I have no choice in the matter).

Yeah, roll on March.

Strewth mate

2008-01-13T00:21:00.000Z

It's late on Saturday night (or early Sunday morning) and I'm watching a repeat of this years Jools Annual Hootenanny which features, amongst others, Kylie. I've always fancied her, most blokes do, but on this show, in that dress, singing that song (Two Hearts) she was utterly, utterly captivating. If there is such a thing as the perfect woman then for me, she is it.

Hot diggity damn, schwing and indeed quite literally, oh moma!.

It was all someone elses fault

2008-01-11T20:25:00.000Z

I was just wolfing down my dinner, an excellent takeaway curry (big up my local curry house The Panahar in Bath for not only a fine and reasonably priced curry but for chucking in loads of freebies too and extra onion bhajis. Gwan the rood) and I had the gogglebox* on in the background which was showing some sort of program on ITV about consumer debt, a popular subject these days. At first I assumed this might be interesting in that it might investigate and explore the factors that have driving the rising tide of personal debt in the UK but it quickly became apparent that it was interesting for an entirely different reason, namely that it was highlighting the 'plight' of a few people who had some pretty large debts.

Now folks get into debt all the time through no real fault of their own - circumstances can and do change overnight, but this wasn't what had happened to these people. They were simply too stupid to understand that all the money they were spending on tick wasn't really theirs to spend and that they would actually have to pay it back at some point. In one instance a woman owed about £104,000 (roughly $208,000 US) on credit and store cards, which are notorious for their scandalously high interest rates (close to 30% APR is pretty common). She started with one at age 18 and would transfer her debt from one card to another following the 0% APR for balance transfers introductory deals that were prevalent for some years but instead of getting rid of the old card she would simply keep spending on it. She claims that eventually she would get new cards just for the different pictures on them. She also said, in a tone that suggested this excused the whole sorry affair, that most of the money went on her kids (3 and I think about 5).

The spending included for her son: clothes, laptop, digital camera, LCD telly, Playstation 2, PSP, Nintendo DS, DVD player, DVDs, games and more besides. She claimed that her 3 year old daughter had a "shoe fetish" (if so then it was brought on entirely by her) and she had some 20-30 pairs of shoes including those idiotic rubbery crocs so favoured by trendies and other cretins. This for a kiddie who will have grown out of them in five minutes time. So with £104,000 of debt, the minimum payment per month she and her husband must make is £2,000 from a joint income of £3,000. I'm seeing a problem here.

So, what was her line of argument in her defence? "The credit card companies should have stopped me". Now hang on a minute, much as I agree that credit card companies are base, venal and notoriously cycnical in their dealings with the public and that they need to be much more heavily regulated (seeing as they seem to be utterly incapable of getting their house in order on their own), you simply cannot pass the mantle of blame off like that. How can these fucking idiots not take responsibility for their own actions? You didn't have to spend the money you know. But the reporter just nods gravely and sympathetically doing nothing but reinforcing the idea that this gormless woman was the victim in this fiasco (even if he was privately thinking "Christ, what a bloody moron" and I know that this particular reporter is not exactly a thicko). But, sneer as we might at these dopes (and for sure they are deserving of some ridicule), the credit card companies have a huge role in all of this too.

Cue some mouthpiece representing the credit card companies harping on about how the companies are taking their social responsibilities very seriously and how they've signed up to the banking code. Sounds impressive, huh? Well sadly she then went and ruined it by giving the following (paraphrased, as I can't quote it word for word) response:

“This means that, for example, instead of just sending out a letter saying that your credit limit has been increased, we now also say that you don't have to take it which is very important”

Oh well done, that'll really do the trick. In one pithy sentence, this drone has managed to sum up the attitude of the lenders: We really don't give a crap who we lend to because we can make huge sums lending unsuitable amounts to unsuitable people and encouraging them to spend it like water. And the truth is that they can do this with impunity because they are allowed to take advantage of the rank stupidity of a not inconsiderable proportion of the population by a system of regulation so weak it might as well not exist. Why is there no proof of income required? Why is there not a system of cross-checks between lenders to find out who owes what to whom? This woman had a wedge of credit and store cards almost as thick as a good quality deck of playing cards from different lenders (including multiple Barclaycards - how did they not check their own damn systems?). Without heavy regulation there is no way we can protect these idiots from themselves and protect them we must because unchecked spending might look good for the economy in the short term but mounting personal debts along with increasing fuel and housing costs can only lead to bad times somewhere down the road.

I can't claim that I've always been financially prudent, far from it, but spending tens or even hundreds of thousands of pounds on high interest cards with nary a thought about how I can pay it back? No, because I engaged my brain enough to realise that I would eventually need to pay it all off, and pay it off I did. But even so it astonishes me how people can be so cavalier about debt like this.

I'll leave you with this thought. During the programme, the reporter stated that according to some source or other, personal debt in the UK is currently increasing at the rate of £15,000,000 an hour. That's £360,000,000 every single day, although of course that figure does not nescesarily take into account how much is disposed of each hour, how much is merely a re-organisation of lending arrangements and so on, so the net new debt figure per hour may be lower, but still. That's a fuck load of cash.

* Television

Currently listening to: The Curse by Atreyu

The most miserable day of the year

2008-01-07T18:38:00.000Z

At least, it is acccording to some university mathematics boffins with nothing better to do (although the actual date seems to vary according to where you look, it's always a Monday in January. Apparently divorce lawyers always expect to do well on said day though). Thing is, I can believe it. Today, I have been miserable as sin. I shouldn't be really - I got away from a job that bored me, I'm young (ish), healthy (I hope) and I'm not constrained by a family or mortgage. But I'm not happy.

It's only been a few weeks in this job and already I hate the journey there and back, but worse than that is the growing feeling that I shouldn't have taken this job. Not because it's a bad place to work or anything but increasingly I don't want to work in IT any more. It doesn't excite me now, it just bores me and the prospect of carrying on with it scares me as I look down the barrel of an existence that is deeply unfulfilled.

Trouble is that I have no idea what I want to do with my life and never have. Sure, like any one else, I've been through phases of wanting to do this or that but all I know now is that I wish I didn't work in an office. I don't want to sit in traffic twice a day and then sit in a dark, stuffy office staring at a screen while the inactivity makes me fat and lazy and the darkness makes me pasty. Worse still, I get home and I have to do more work because when you work in IT everyone else seems to think you're a kind of personal helpdesk resource so my free time is eroded and tarnished too (not that I begrudge helping people out a bit but sometimes, the level of request is just too big but I don't feel I can say no). I think I'd like to work outside again, maybe something to do with the land (although damned if I know what - game keeper? Forrester? Estate manager? Smallholder or farmer? How the hell do you get such jobs anyway?). I know full well nothing will pay me as well as IT does now (not that I earn a huge amount but it's comfortable) but every time I have to try and learn some new bit of technology my mind just rebels and I find myself desperate to get away. I don't really want to leave Bath either although I'm sure that on the wages of a rural job I'd probably have to.

It's frustrating because all around me everyone I know seems to know just what they want to do and are focussed on their careers and pursuing their goals and I can't even focus on a relatively low level job because I'm bored out of my mind. Perhaps I've been watching too much River Cottage and I'm hankering for some stylised and impossible idyll but I find the idea of growing fruit and veg for a living quite an attractive idea (so long as the surroundings are nice and pretty - not really turned on by the idea of growing them in an urban setting!).

Sadly though in order to do this sort of thing you need something I don't have: money. Something I've noticed is that an awful lot of these people who down-size to smallholdings and what not are rather well-to-do and have sold massive houses in London or the home counties and therefore they can afford to do it. Not me though. I guess I'll have to go on grinding out my days working jobs I don't care about in dingy offices unless I get very lucky indeed.

Sorry if you were having a good day up until now and my misery has infected you like the insidious cold that sneaks up out of nowhere. Maybe I'll get over it, maybe not. Either way, right now I am bored, miserable and I've had enough.

Happy new year

2008-01-01T13:05:00.000Z

Although it doesn't feel it thanks to a lot of beer and a 5am finish. Time for a beer break I thnk - I usually last about 2 weeks. Will this year be any different?

Edit: Amusingly, I've just noticed the post I did at 5am and forgot about. Ah, you've got to love drunken internet usage.

Currently feeling: Utterly rancid

Happy New year

2008-01-01T04:55:00.000Z

Sod a fucking dog but it's 2008. Right now I'm more drunk than a random group of Ausies but nonetheless, happy new year and I wish and happy and prosperous new year to all readers.

P.S. And I really am fucked off my tits - it's nearly 5AM and I've been drinking for about 9 hours. Bloody brilliant.

Sour Apples

2007-12-30T11:31:00.000Z

In the last year you cannot have failed to notice somewhere along the line that there has been much ado about the Apple iPhone. This was a long awaited event (at least, if you were one of the sheep-like idiots who slavishly follow everything Apple do or someone stupid enough to want every gadget no matter how good or bad it is) and Apple, as usual, were not exactly modest about it: Steve Jobs (founder and head of Apple) claimed it would "reinvent" the telecommunications sector.

This immodest claim was based on the company’s previous success in the mp3 player market. The iPod became ubiquitous to the point that almost all mp3 players were called iPods by the lazy and the ignorant (i.e. most media and a not inconsiderable proportion of the general public). Personally, I didn't like them. I put aside my general dislike of Apple products and gave one a go but personally, I found the stupid click wheel thing the most idiotic and unenjoyable user experience I had had for quite some time. Of course, no-one dared criticise it because it was a case of the Emperor’s New Clothes: No one wanted to speak out against it because it was the new cool toy of the alleged intelligensia. Also, iTunes is the most hateful piece of software I've ever encountered: It's riddled with DRM, is huge and tied exclusively to the iTunes store which sells only DRM crippled music. Anyway, one way or another it did revolutionise the mobile music market, if only in the sense that it brought widespread awareness of the availability of players and, truth be told, it did make other manufacturers up their game to produce even better players that they already were (Samsung and Creative being my favourites as their sound engines are, to my mind, far superior to that of the iPod).

Sadly for Jobs and his crew, they didn't really think about this with the iPhone. When the iPod came along, it was entering an emergent market with little competition and certainly none that was well established. With the iPhone, however, they were going up against Nokia, Sony Ericsson, Samsung, LG, Sagem, Motorola and Benq Siemens amongst others. These people had been making phones for years and always trying to outdo each other with features, better user interfaces, better looking models and so on. And they had come a long, long way. After all, some of these companies had been making phones for 20 years since the mobile networks started to take off. The only chip Jobs could bring to the gaming table was that it was an Apple. That was all they felt they needed to say in order to imply that their machine would be better than anything else out there which is enormously arrogant and frankly, it's a claim that fell on it's arse.

Sure, it has a touch screen. But other manufacturers beat them to that. OK, it claims that large icons laid out sensibly are the key to simple navigation. Errr...Nokia beat you to that (and Sony Ericsson as that's how they do their menus these days too). Hmm. Well, it plays music. Big deal - I've had music player phones for years and they weren't restricted to the hideously DRM-crippled rubbish available on iTunes like the iPhone is. It's not a particularly small handset either. And to top it off, it was only available on specific networks in expensive tie-up deals.

So far so underwhelming. The iPhone delivered nothing new at all and the reviews more or less reflected this. Obviously, aesthetics is a subjective point. Myself, I don't think it looks all that great, others do - fair enough. But most reviewers found problems like variable call quality, a 3.5mm headphone jack (a good addition as it's annoying not to be able to use my expensive Shure headphone if I'm using a phone as a music source) which is too recessed to accept most headphone connecters (apparently they will sell you an extender but it's another piece to lose and frankly, for the money they charge they should have damn well included it or made it properly in the first place), the gestures used on the touch screen such as tapping and swiping are not consistent between applications which makes it more time consuming to get used to, a major failing in something which markets itself on it's 'intuitive' user interface, and a myriad of other problems. None of these issues are unique to the iPhone by any means, but they all mean that the iPhone is not the revelation that the Apple fan-boys proclaimed it would be with an almost messianic zeal.

But here's the real problem. Apple's dirty little secret (although it's not really all that secret to be honest) is that they are so protectionist about their devices that you cannot do anything to the phone by default. Third party applications are common throughout the mobile phone world but not on the iPhone. In order to use any you must unlock the phone using a hack worked out by a small army of enthusiasts who see it as a personal affront to their liberty to not be able to do what they want with their expensive toy, and rightly so. To put this in context, there are a number of manufacturers making so-called Smart Phones, most of which use Microsoft Windows Mobile Edition as their operating system. This is fully open to third party developers and you can even get the tools to create your own apps for free from Microsoft. Normally, MS are being lambasted for protectionism, anti-competitive behaviour and so on yet they are allowing anyone to add stuff to phones which run their OS and the phone manufacturers are happy about it too. So why on earth won't Apple? Well, I can't answer that but it seems it's not likely to change any time soon as this story shows.

But what really puzzles me is this: If you're so hacked off that every time there's a firmware update for your iPhone you lose your third party apps and potentially turn your expensive toy into a brick then BUY SOMETHING ELSE YOU FUCKING RETARD. Stop being such a sheep and buying iPhones just because you think they're cool. They are riddled with crippleware and you can do nothing to them without Apple's say so, so instead of whining about how your phone has been ruined, go and buy something from a company who don't get pissy when you want to do something to their product.

Bloody fools.

What a bargain!

2007-12-29T16:44:00.000Z

I ventured forth into the madness that is the sales today. I don't normally do this unless I really need something and think I might get a few quid off. It's not that I'm tight, it's just that in order to put up with the moronic stampeding of retarded 'bargain hunters' I need to know I'm actually going to get what I need at a decent price.

You see, the problem with bargains is that most of those items which people proudly tell you were a total bargain are not bargains at all because they are items that the person most likely didn't need in the first place. A bargain is only a bargain if it is something that you would have bought anyway but which you get for a reduced price.

Seeing as I started a new job recently where I have to wear a shirt and trousers again (not my favourite but sadly there are still a lot places in the dark ages when it comes to the dress code for their IT chimps who rarely see or are seen by anyone other than people employed in the same company), I thought it might be an idea to get a couple of new work shirts. I normally detest spending money on 'work clothes' but with shirts I'm not so worried because I know that I can wear them with jeans when the occasion arises so they're not exclusively for going to a dingy office and sitting behind a screen all day. The problem is that I'm quite picky with shirts. I despise anything that might be deemed fashionable because in five minutes time, it won't be and I'll look like one of those halfwits you find working in mobile phone shops. I like shirts to be not too plain, not too garish and comfortable. Luckily, I don't have to wear a tie (the most pointless piece of apparel ever invented but that's another story) so I don't have to stand about wondering what tie will go with the shirt I like and then have some mincer simper at me about some hideous shiny silk item of utter waste.

Anyway, I also decided that, if I saw one I liked, I could do with a new coat. I have a few coats already but the one which is affectionately known as the 'roadkill' coat owing to it's largely furry nature (not actual fur I hasten to add - it was 30 quid in a Next sale years ago so it's probably made from recycled Coke bottles) is getting long in the tooth and has a large tear in it. Also, my old denim jacket is similarly aged and not really my cup of tea these days. This leaves my snowboarding coat (good for wet weather but not what you might call stylishly casual) and my 3/4 length smart black coat. This too is a few years old but still looks alright especially over a black suit but I don't much like taking it down the pub or on nights out because, well, it doesn't look great with jeans. Yes, I sometimes do care about my appearance even if it occasionally doesn't seem like it.

So with these errands in mind I popped in and started searching. M&S first, but no coats or shirts in the sales so I went off to Next, Jollys (House of Fraser store), Austin Reed and Moss. Reed had a good offer on shirts, three for the price of two even on reduced ones, but to be honest the selection in my size wasn't great. There was a coat that I quite liked but it didn't do up to the neck and I'm not terribly keen on wearing a scarf so that was no good. Jollys were, not surprisingly, bloody expensive (although the coats they had were really, really nice and reduced too. Sadly, they were £350 to start with and even reduced to £250 it was more than I was willing to stump up on a coat). Moss had some OK shirts and some OK coats but nothing great. Next failed on all counts as they have been getting increasingly crap of late, in my not-so-humble opinion.

But then I spotted a shop I'd never noticed before. I don't know why, it's been there for a while by all accounts and it's at the posh end of Milsom Street in Bath which I regularly walk up. It was T M Lewin, a shirt makers which is based in Jermyn Street, London, but have obviously branched out. Now, normally anything which is on Jermyn Street is expensive (think hand-made Lobb shoes, Fortnum & Mason and the like) and indeed, normally they are: £85 per shirt, so no wonder I'd not been in there before as that's a lot of cash for a shirt as far as I'm concerned. But in their sale, every shirt was £25. Strewth, now that is a bargain - high quality shirts which will last for ages for £60 less than normal. I took two. I must say that the assistant was terribly helpful - she measured my arms to make sure I got the right size and talked me through the cuts to make sure I got one I was happy with - top class service. I would have added a pair of cashmere-lined leather gloves to the pile down from £75 to £30 as well but they had not got any in my size. Shame - been on the lookout for some for a while.

As for the coat, well, I ended up getting the first one I looked and liked in M&S because it was dead on what I wanted and, at £130, was about the same price as the other coats I had seen in sales and liked but which hadn't been able to button right up. So, all in all I think I did OK. I expect years of service from shirts and coats and the two brands I bought are certainly high enough quality to do that and more. Thing in though, I looked at the stuff in Next in the sale and I wondered to myself, why on earth do people queue up to get in at 5am to buy it? Sure, it's heavily discounted but it is universally crap: cheaply made, cheap looking and just not at all nice. Several people needed medical attention and I'm sure that I heard at least one person suffered hypothermia while queuing somewhere this year, if you can believe that. Madness.

Oh well, for me the sales are over for another year and I for one am glad. We've just had the rampant consumerism of Christmas, we really don't need any more for a while.

Look, I found the software!

2007-12-18T22:25:00.000Z

The BBC have reported on a new Personal Transport System to be installed at Heathrow terminal 5 (local interest angle: the company that makes it is based in Bristol). But ehat caught my eye was the diagram at the bottom of the article which points out the key parts of the vehicle: The front, the rear and the "software". Yes, they've managed to pinpoint the software, quite accurately too it would seem.

Do these pillocks actually copy check the drivel they are putting out any more?

I'm still alive

2007-12-16T15:03:00.000Z

Although after last nights works do and then more boozing at another party afterwards, it's a close run thing. I feel like mildly tepid death.

There's been a stack of stuff I've thought about blogging recently but I just haven't gotten around to it. I may do one or two of them in the coming weeks, but I thought I might just share a few audio files that appeared on a blog that I read called Chase Me Ladies, I'm In The Cavalry. These audio clips are recordings of real calls made to the Cambridgeshire police 999 emergency line. The stupidity of these people has to be heard to be believed. I'm actually quite astonished any of them can remember to breathe. Anyway, here they are (all mp3 files which can be played directly from the link, no need to save them locally):

The crazy old lady

What is today's date?

There's pole dancing at number three

I can't find Homebase and I'm very distressed

Is there a hairdressers open in Cambridge?

The operators show a level of restraint and patience that is truly remakable in the face fo such mind-bendibgly idiotic people. I really hope that if I ever have a need to call for police assistance that I get one of these people because they appear to be completely unflappable.

Notes from a small island

2007-11-01T09:54:00.000Z

No, really, I am on a small island. Hong Kong to be precise. Why, you might be wondering, am I blogging whilst I am on holiday? Well, the thing is, I have managed to get a cold and after tromping around the Jade Market this morning and the IFC Mall this afternoon, I didn't really feel like going out to Lantau to see the Big Buddha or up to see the Ten Thousand Buddhas. Plus it started to rain. Arse. So, I've come back to my friend's apartment where I'm staying to check on my return details, take hot Beechams and vitamin C in the hope that I will feel better for my last couple of days.
I can never get it quite right on holidays: I never know whether to go all out and try to see and do everything I can or use the time to relax, wind down and catch up on sleep. I don't normally go abroad - in fact this is my first foreign holiday in three years and the first time in a long time that I've gone long distance. Not because of some worthy reason like carbon footprints or anything but simply because I hate flying and the hassle and expense it engenders. Plus there are a lot of beautiful places to go in the UK and Ireland. But this time, given that I've travelled something like 6,000 miles, I figured it would be churlish not to try and fit in plenty.
Problem is, I was pretty tired and run down before I left what with one thing and another and since I arrived I have had two nights out which ended at about, ooohh, 7am (including the night I stepped off the plane after a 12 hour flight and losing most of a day) and I have definitely been out and about seeing the sights. Of course, being on holiday has meant that beer has been drunk (and cocktails, and champagne and flaming Lamborghinis and I don't know what else). Coupled with dramatic change in climate experienced between the UK and here and a change in diet that has seen three normal meals a day replaced with ad hoc meals of all sorts and a serious reduction in vitamin C intake, this has left me a bit susceptible.
Maybe now I see why tropical islands with so little to do on them other than laze about in the shade and drink the occasional cold one hold such appeal to so many. You see, there are two kinds of holidays: Travelling and relaxing. Travelling holidays are where you go to visit places and see stuff, do stuff. Relaxing holidays are just that. I have to say that I really should have gone for a relaxing holiday this time round. Never mind - the main thing is it's still been a blinder and it's not over yet and I'd do exactly the same again as I got to see my friend, make some new ones and have some truly memorable times (Lan Kwai Fong is not easily forgotten and cocktails at the Felix Bar in the legendary Peninsular Hotel is something you have to do when you're here). So, with that in mind, it's time to watch a movie, drink some more Beechams and have tea. Ta ta.

Ho ho fuckin' ho

2007-10-20T14:43:00.000Z

Whilst it is indeed true that Christmas comes but once a year, it seems to come around with depressing speed as time goes by. No, this isn't a diatribe about how time seems to speed up as you get older, but it's nearly as popular a theme about this time of year. Today I went into town to do some holiday shopping (I shall be jetting off to the Orient in a few days time for a much needed break) and I discovered that Bath city council have decided to put up the Christmas decorations already. It's still the middle of October and we have the lights, tinsel and baubles out already.

Why? Why the bloody hell do we need this cack up when we're still two full weeks from Guy Fawkes' night? And even then it'll be another 7 or 8 weeks until Christmas itself. Granted this isn't as bad as the supermarkets and department stores who start decking the halls with boughs of holly (or at least putting wrapping paper, cards, tinsel and crackers on the shelves along with other assorted seasonal tat) sometime in September, but still - at least lets have the fireworks before we start breaking out the plastics Santa’s.

I used to love Christmas - what kid doesn't? The excitement building up to it, the expectation of presents (fairly modest ones when I was a lad as there were three of us kids and my Dad was just a middle ranking civil servant so we weren't exactly flush), the sights and smells you only got once a year (Liquorice Allsorts, Quality Street and peanuts always stuck out for me), the school Christmas play and so on. I loved it all. But as you get older you are more aware of the rank commercialism that goes along with it and that rather tarnishes the whole experience.

Don't get me wrong: I am an atheist and couldn't give a monkeys bollock about all the religious shite surrounding the whole thing (lets face it - most of the accompaniments are in fact of Pagan origin, not Christian, and I'm certainly not averse to the sentiment of peace and goodwill to all men. You don't have to be religious to subscribe to that one), so I don't feel that any kind of message or spiritual significance is being diminished, but it is just such a grotesque example of rampant consumerism now that it's depressing. Kids get hundreds, even thousands, of pounds worth of presents and yet seem ever more ungrateful as well as growing up without any concept of the value of money. OK, so I'm guilty too - I don't have kids but I do like to spoil my nieces and nephews rotten because I love them dearly but at least I know my sisters, whatever their financial position at any given time, will most certainly impart a sense of propriety regarding money to their kids.

When I was at university, Christmas was still a good laugh for a number of reasons. Firstly, my old mate Rich and I would wander round town of a Saturday afternoon browsing the nice looking Christmas goodies in M&S and shaking our heads in wonder at the really weird selection of random gifts that department stores flog. Then there would be lots of parties and my housemates and I would have our own Christmas day before the end of term when I would cook a roast chicken dinner and we'd exchange presents and play board games - all good clean fun (at least until we got completely arseholed on cheap wine and other booze whereupon it would descend into enjoyable anarchy). But once uni was done, it just got less and less enjoyable.

All in all I hate Christmas shopping with a passion because, especially in this town, the streets are rammed with sideshows, merry-go-rounds and slow moving morons who stop in the middle of the street to stare at things meaning you, who are trying to get everything done pronto so you can go home and fume, just get more and more annoyed. As for the day itself, well it depends on where I am and who I'm with. I have traditionally taken a dim view of it in my adult life thanks to the stress induced by my step mother (who, quite frankly, is an odious old bitch who makes everyone’s life a misery. But the last two Christmases have been spent with my sisters and were very enjoyable (especially when my niece and nephew were involved - there's something to be said for experiencing Christmas vicariously through good kids and their infectious excitement). This year, I don't know what I'm doing but I'm probably staying at home and just relaxing but until December at least, I won't even be giving the event itself any more though than that because it's too damn early!

Hahahahahahahahahaha!

2007-10-19T20:48:00.000Z

Bad luck France - 34-10 to the Pumas and your second loss to them in the same tournament. You must be so proud. Now maybe that ridiculous looking hair-bear of yours might go and get a proper haircut, the scruffy oik. And maybe you ought to get yourselves sorted because if Argentina to get into the 6 nations then it will make things very interesting and, much as I enjoy seeing you get well and truly rinsed, it would be a shame for what was once a quality team fall apart. And it would make European rugby just that bit duller.

Dan le Sac and Scroobius Pip strike again

2007-10-08T19:16:00.000Z

Scroobius Pip is a contemporary poet placing his verse over modern electronic beats provided by Dan le Sac. They're beginning to get a cult following and it's not hard to see why. Pip tends towards quasi-political statement without entering into direct positional discourse whilst commentating on the trends and happenings of modern life. But never mind all that cack - the point is that he's pretty astute has a lot more to say for himself than any other song writer I've heard of late. I've already posted Thou Shalt Always Kill, so here's Letter From God for your enjoyment.

Stop Press!

2007-09-29T20:28:00.000Z

Top Gear is back!!! 8pm Sunday 7^th October on BBC2. Woo hoo!

My pile's bigger than yours

2007-09-29T20:09:00.001Z

In yet another flimsy attempt to disguise the fact I haven't been arsed to think of something to write for a while, here's another video. Some people may not know from where the blog got it's name. Well, ace queen is my cursed hand at poker: I can't win with it and I can't win against it. The point is, I'm partial to the odd hand of poker either for fun or for a few quid. Mind you, I have never played a game for more than about 20 quid because I'm canny enough to know that even though I'm not a bad player, there's always a bloody good chance of losing your wedge. All of which makes this video even more amazing.

The two pros playing this hand, Gus Hansen and Daniel Negreanu, are very well known on the top poker circuits and are often featured on televised games, and both of them have won a lot of money at the tables. Negreanu is normally very ebullient at the table and even a bit gobby (all part of the act to try and put off opponents) whereas Hansen is always very taciturn, so it's telling that Negreanu is very quiet during this hand. And with good reason: More than half a million dollars in cold hard cash change places on the table in the course of the hand, and it went in Hansen's favour. I won't bore you with the details of odds and so on - just gulp slightly and feel the pain as Negreanu gets suckered right in to every poker players ultimate nightmare: The hand you simply can't lay down.

Poet or plank?

2007-08-19T21:10:00.000Z

There were a number of things I thought about writing today, all of them rants, because they have come to my attention in the last few days (slow middle lane drivers on the motorway, the endless roadworks to install those utterly useless 'driver information systems' which only serve to tell you that you are in a traffic jam, like you hadn't already noticed, or to distract you with patronising messages and pointless estimates of how long it will take you to drive an arbitrary distance. Quite how we managed before all this technical wizardry is a mystery to me). However, something I have just read changed all that in an instant when it made my sides hurt with laughing.

The subject of this humour is none other than Pete Doherty, the smack addled and talentless pikey du jour. For those not in the know (and who can't be arsed to read the wiki link), Doherty first came into the public eye as the front man for a (at the time) little known indie band called The Libertines. Essentially, they were a re-hashed and re-branded punk outfit who stole mercilessly from those who had been before but for some bizarre reason they were heralded as the next big thing and even more inexplicably, Doherty was touted as some sort of musical genius.

To be honest, I'm amazed he can sit on a toilet the right way round. He is a skinny, acne infested waster who spends his entire time filling himself with more or less any substance which might just give him a bit of a buzz and he most certainly is not any kind of genius - quite the opposite in fact. Somehow he has ended up doinking Kate Moss, herself no brain of Britain and no stranger to a bit of Bolivian, and the tabloids love it. The Libertines eventually saw sense and booted him out of the band because he rarely bothered to turn up for gigs anyway (and they had produced only one track that was even vaguely worth the effort, although naturally that didn't deter NME from declaiming them as some sort of messiahs and spouting reams of bad prose about them. Sadly this is normal for the NME - a bunch of washed up hacks with their heads so firmly entrenched in their own arseholes that they would struggle to recognise a decent tune if it bit them on the balls) but he was soon back with another band called Babyshambles, and a shambles they certainly were. A real low was reached when, during a television interview, Doherty squirted a syringe full of his own blood over the camera. Even his own band mates were disgusted but that didn't bother Doherty one little bit. The music they produce is boring, unoriginal and mostly sounds like they can barely be arsed to play it (and many people certainly wish they would go the whole hog and just give up) and the only thing keeping Doherty going now is tabloid notoriety.

However, it seems that our Pete has actually learnt to write and has made a book out of his 'collected writings' so now those odd people who are fans of his can fawn over his sub-teenage (ahem) 'poetry', which is fair enough if you're into that sort of thing, but a little snippet about this book on the legendary Popbitch made me laugh rather a lot. It was a review of his book (or an excerpt thereof) and it was safe to say that the writer was not a big fan of the book or the man:

A review of Pete Doherty's writings on Amazon: "I have ordered 53 of these books as I understand that they are written in his blood. According to my calculations that should use up about eight pints of it and hopefully bring an end to the adolescent dribblings of this smacked-up sub-Dickensian tossclump."

So, I decided to take a look at all the reviews on Amazon and nearly wet myself. They are either starry-eyed sycophants who sound like they want to crawl up his arse or people who have seen the book for what it is - the outpourings of someone on whom the moniker of 'idiot' would actually be an insult to idiots everywhere. Needless to say there are some colourful phrases involved but it is well worth the effort of reading them because they're really rather good overall. Enjoy!

Please, oh please...

2007-08-11T16:52:00.000Z

Rapper 50 Cent (or 'Fiddy' as he is know by the dribbling retards that listen to him) has apparently threatened to not release any more solo albums if his next release is beaten in terms of sales by Kanye West's new album which is launched on the same day. Now, I'm no Kanye West fan but his music is pretty inoffensive and melodious and if there is any justice in the world then his record will do better and the odious ex-crack dealer will fuck off for good and never come back.

For those who don't know, 50 Cent is a former drug dealer from (I think - I don't really give two shits either way) Philadelphia who seems to be very proud of the fact that he ruined a lot of lives by peddling that filthy shite to the needy and desperate. Not only that but he thinks he's a hard man because he's been shot nine times. Now hang on a minute. Being shot nine times doesn't make you hard, it just means you're bloody careless and that the person or persons shooting you were fucking useless with guns. He likes to rap about his bitches (or maybe hos - whatever they're called this week) and how he has lots of bling and how that obviously means he's better than you.

Look, I have no problem with rap - Public Enemy and Nas, amongst other, feature in my music collection - but I do have a problem with rap that doesn't say anything at all. Rap was originally heavily politicised and often conveyed a message to a disaffected youth. Whether that message was perceived by outsiders as good or bad is irrelevant, the point is that it had, well, a point. 50 Cent is the most banal, pointless gimp going. Not only that he has an appaling voice and looks like he'd struggle to find more than a couple of brain cells to rub together. Quite what kids (mostly white and from the underclass in the UK) see in this gormless mouth-breather is quite beyond me, although I freely admit I am old beyond my years and quite grumpy with it. But the fact remains that with a bit of luck this talentless tosser might just bog off for good and never trouble the airwaves and music charts again.

Please, just this once, let something said by a celebrity in the heat of the moment actually come to pass (I'm still waiting for that tedious short arse Paul Daniels to fuck off as well).

Mind the bandwagon

2007-08-01T20:57:00.000Z

Alright, I'll come clean: I'm one of those slightly snobby middle class types who tries to buy organic food wherever possible. This isn't because I'm conviced it's better for you or because it's not doused in chemicals that will make my spuds shrivel up or my hair fall out (or whatever it is they do), I buy it because, to me, it tastes better. Yes, really.

As I've mentioned before in a slightly elongated rant about supermarkets, most of the fruit and veg varieties stocked by supermarkets tends to be chosen for their high yields, long shelf life and uniformity of appearance and not for flavour or quality. Organic varieties, however, tend to be more flavoursome in my opinion and the same goes for milk - organic is far better than the ordinary homogenised stuff. With meat, I'm not so fussed but I will buy free-range rather than ordinary stuff. Yes, I know I'm being stung for it but hey, that's my choice.

So it was with interest tonight that I spotted an organic chicken korma ready meal in Sainsburys. I realise that a korma is pretty feeble but I just didn't fancy a spicy dinner tonight. Now I know ready meals are generally crap, full of fat and bad for you in every way, but this one was an organic product at a premium price so I assumed it would be OK. Oh dear. That was mistake numebr one. Mistake number two was actually eating it once I'd seen it. Granted, the sauce was edible although it was riddled with chickpeas, something that, while I have no overt dislike of I'm not terribly fond of either, but the real shock was the chicken. Or at least I think it was chicken. It might have been cat. Either way, it was absolutely vile and I just couldn't eat it. It's a shame that the premium price didn't extend to getting you some premium meat.

Anyway, the upshot of all this is that once again I have been given a solid reminder that ready meals are universally shit and I should know better. It's just a shame that some company is rather crassly jumping on the bandwagon and palming off a rather inferior product on unsuspecting consumers. Not that it's unusal by any means but still - be wary of buying something just because it says it's organic. So is gangrene, technically speaking, and you wouldn't buy a pot of that now, would you?

You dope

2007-07-24T18:07:00.000Z

Unless you are dead (or perhaps American, seeing as a certain L Armstrong esq. has retired from it) you can't have failed to notice that the Tour de France is in full swing. Now, let me say from the outset that I have nothing but the utmost admiration for these chaps because they ride something like 100 or miles per day every day (more or less) for about 3 weeks. Nothing gets in the way: Mountains, weather, spectators - it's just part of the race. But as it seems happens every year, numerous riders have managed to fail dope tests and have been disqualified (as have the teams in some cases), the latest being a pre-race favourite Alexandre Vinokourov *.

Call me old fashioned, or possibly just naive, but there's something funny going on in the world of long distance road racing. A quick search of the BBC News website for 'tour de france doping' provides at least 10 pages of results with storied for every year back to 1998 about cyclists testing positive and being disqualified or teams being disqualified for doping their riders. Google brings back more than two and a half million results and I'm sure they go back much further than 1998.

So with all this previous history, why the bloody hell do teams and riders persist in this activity? You'd have to be monumentally thick to think you're going to get away with it. So are the riders, team managers, doctors and all the rest really that dense? Are they all so convinced of their own genius that they believe they'll not get caught? Well, maybe some of them are but I can't believe that all of them are that dim-witted and narcissistic. I'm sure it can't be cheap to enter a team in the TdF which might have a realistic chance of winning so why risk it?

Of course, there's always the possibility that the testing system is rubbish and insecure, but you would think that by now that would have been found out if it were the case, so the only conclusion I can draw is that a not insignificant number of professional road racing cyclists and their teams are total dolts. I'm sure that one argument which might be put forward as justification for this cheating is that there's a limit to how fit one person can be (and for sure these guys are amongst the fittest on the planet, no question about that) so they have to try everything to get an edge on their rivals.

Sure, I'll go along with that but using performance enhancing drugs? Sorry but that's not how it works. Let's take that argument to it's ridiculous extreme, just for a chuckle:

Let's assume you took the German everyone loves to hate, Mr M Schumacher, when he was at the top of his game in Formula 1. He was nigh on unbeatable. Sure, there are technical differences in the cars but they are usually so small as a result of the stringent technical regulations (something that sterilises the sport and makes it dull) that they're not worth talking about. Especially if you compare Ferrari with, say Honda. They both have very deep pockets for their teams so there is no reason why one should be so much better than the other car wise (engine failure and the like aside). Now, let’s take Jenson Button, once billed as the next big things and the Great White Hope for British Racing (shame he turned out to eb an also-ran). There's no denying that they are both extremely good drivers - the top flight. But, as far as I'm aware, in a straight fight where both men finished the race, Button never beat Schumacher (F1 buffs please correct me if I'm wrong!).

How does this compare to TdF doping scandals? Well, what if, just to get an edge on their rivals, Honda had slyly added a nitrous oxide kit to Jenson’s car? Or maybe upped the cubic capacity on the quiet giving them another 100bhp? Would that be fair? No because it's against the rules and it wouldn't be the man doing the winning but the machine. But the crux of the matter is that Honda wouldn't do it. Oh, I'm sure that it would cross their minds if they were certain they'd not get found out but they know they will so it's a pointless thought which isn't entertained.

So why on earth do cyclists still do it? Only the riders and teams can answer that. Athletics used to be riddled with doping years ago but it ahs cleaned itself up and it is now very rare to hear of a top flight athlete being caught using performance enhancing drugs, but you can bet your last penny that when the TdF rolls around again, there will be at least one rider found to be doing something naughty. Perhaps cycling ought to take a leaf out of their book now and clean up its image before it's too late because eventually, the public will tire of it and what happens when the crowds don't bother to turn up any more?

* Worth noting that Vinokourov didn't actually take any drugs, it seems that the evidence points towards him having had a blood transfusion. I'm guessing more blood in the body means a better metabolism of oxygen and energy thus providing a performance boost.

Thrill me

2007-07-20T18:15:00.000Z

The is quite possibly the coolest thing I have seen in a long time. More than 1500 inmates from the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center, Cebu, Philippines, re-enacting the classic Michael Jackson Thriller video, complete with extremely ugly ladyboy. Man that rocks!

Copywrong

2007-07-07T10:08:00.000Z

There can be few more odious organisations in the world today than the RIAA. Essentially, their remit sounds like a good one - protect the interests of music artists and their intellectual property. After all, musicians earn their money from entertaining proles like us, so they deserve to be paid for what they do, right? I'd not argue that point, for sure, and I'm happy to pay for my entertainement. Even stuff I download, I only download to see if I like it. If so then I buy the CD as I'm mildly anally retentive and like to have the originals.

The problem is that the RIAA have gone a bit mental after winning a few battles against file sharing and the like. Instead of protecting artists rights they now mostly sit rocking back and forth with globs of spittle at the corners of their collective mouths trying to think up new ways of making themselves look mean, petty and stupid and by extension tarnishing artists with that reputation as well. It would appear that their collective God complex is so great that they are even throwing their weight about in the name of artists who don't even want the RIAA to act on their behalf.

This has been going on for several years: This 2003 San Francisco Chronicle article is one example of artists being unimpressed by the RIAA's bully boy tactics and general ignorance. Much as I dislike the band, Nine Inch Nails provided DRM-free versions of songs from their new album some of which were in formats ready for remixing using sequencing software. This was something which was actively done by the band with their record labels full knowledge and blessing and yet the RIAA tried to stop the marketing campaign by sending legal threats to web sites hsoting the files.

Want more? well, this year the RIAA set up a hip-hop DJ and producer well known (and well respected) for making mixtapes by hiring the guy and his sidekick and then arresting him for making the mix they requested (the full story is on the NY Times website but the miserable scrotes insist you sign up before you can read articles on their site so I'll leave that to you to decide if you wish to do). Apparently, it is well known in the industry that there are many acts who would not have achieved the level of exposure and, by inference, income that they have had they not been featured by DJ Drama and DJ Don Cannon on their mixes. Nor was there a single artist who was identified as feeling wronged by Drama and Cannon, yet the RIAA still took it upon themselves to act like arseholes.

They're utterly incompetent too. There are numerous examples, but I'll list just a couple.

1) They tried to sue a dead 83 year old grandmother who had never owned a computer.

2) They tried to sue another grandmother (bit of a theme here - perhaps they think grandmothers are a softer target than tech-savvy kids?) for allegedly downloading, amongst other things, Snoop Dogg.

3) Just for completeness, they tried suing yet another granny who didn't even know what file-sharing was. Unfortunately for them, she is countersuing alleging that the RIAA used an unlawful private investigation in their original lawsuit against her. Hopefully she will win and make them look as stupid as they really are.

Clearly, the RIAA is inept in the extreme. The above three incidents are far from isolated and they don't just target little old ladies.

Now, their latest wheeze is to order the removal, from YouTube of course, of around one hundred instructional videos which have been posted by a well known guitar teacher. In fact, between this guy and another well known teacher, there were close to 200 videos. One is based in San Diego (David Taub), the other in London (Justin Sandercoe) and both are professional guitarists. The videos mostly show the basics such as picking, chords, scales and so on, but you cannot teach any instrument successfully unless you teach real-world examples of tunes. However, because the guy used a Rolling Stones song, the RIAA have decided to stick their oar in and claim copyright infringement.

Truth is, these videos don't even feature the whole songs, just sections to demonstrate the practical application of the techniques being taught. To have two professional guitarists provide effectively free tuition is fantastic; there are plenty of people out there who would love to learn guitar but don't have access to that level of private tuition and now they've been denied it again by a group of self-important greed-mongers who are only interested in feathering their own nests no matter what the costs. There are still some instructional videos on YT from Sandercoe and the ever astounding Tommy Emmanuel (amongst others) but it's a sad day for music that it has come to this.

Want to know the real rub? You can bet your life that even if the Rolling Stones said "No, we don't mind - it's good to inspire people with our music, let them carry on" the RIAA probably wouldn't care. Somehow they have a mandate to do as they please regardless of the wishes of artists and yet still they claim to be protecting the interests of said artists. Seriously, somehow these self-righteous morons have to be stopped because it is out of control and all they are dooing is wrecking peoples lives and the reputation of artists and the music industry in general. Speaking as a hobby guitarist I'm very miffed that they have targetted music teachers. After all, without instructional sessions from teachers, there wouldn't be half as many musicians out there and the RIAA wouldn't have anything to do.

Actually come to think of it that's not such a bad thing at all...

Greatest instruments you've never heard of

2007-06-24T00:00:00.000Z

Buggering hell, I've gone post crazy. And it's another video, but trust me, this one is even better than the last one.

Ever heard of a Theremin? Probably not, but then most people haven't. In case you haven't, it's an instrument that was invented in the early 20th century and is played by moving your hands through a shaped electro-magnetic field. By all accounts they're bastard hard to play so that makes this even more astonishing. And yes, the chap who appears to be wafting his hands about over a Corby trouser press with a TV aerial attached is indeed playing the vocal part. There should be more Theremins in modern music.

Choon

2007-06-23T10:08:00.000Z

Blimey, I'd not heard of this chap before but I tell you what, it's a bloody good track an the video is entertaining. And he's dead right - you should never question Stephen Fry.

The magical music box

2007-06-20T21:12:00.000Z

In a fit of guilt I thought I ought to try and be a tad more regular with posts and it occurred to me that apart from appending the odd "Listening to:" tag on the end of posts and a few links I don't talk much about one of the loves of my life, namely music.

I'll not pretend I'm a proper muso and can deconstruct songs and find their deep and meaningful roots but I do listen to a lot of music a lot of the time and I play the guitar a bit (and in my youth, the piano and the drums although neither for very long or very well). Even so I'm not one for all the flowery prose and polemic you find in the music press, NME being a particularly guilty party here for perpetuating drivel of such pompousness and ego strokingly kiss arse that I can barely stand to read it these days. So, with this in mind, I figured I'd share with you my current album(s) of the month every so often and today I'm going to start with the current Maximo Park album, Our Earthly Pleasures.

I'll admit the first time I heard Maximo Park's first single (Graffiti), I wasn't overly impressed. I figured they were another pretentious art-rock outfit very much in the mould of skinny pseudo-retro chimps Franz Ferdinand and I didn't pay too much attention to them. But eventually, their other songs began to seep into my consciousness through the radio and TV and I'd think "Oooh, that's quite good, who is that?". Eventually I found out it was the self same band I'd written off and so I gave their first album, A Certain Trigger, a good listen.

Well the upshot was that I ate my words and loved the album (in particular the slightly maudlin Going Missing and the lovely The Coast Is Always Changing) so when the new album came out I was only two months behind the rest of the world in getting hold of it. Now there's a phenomenon in music known as the 'Difficult second album' which usually occurs after a very successful first album. It's been quite a while since I heard a bands second major release that lived up to the first, recent disappointments including Bloc Party and The Killers (I'm rather hoping that as of next week I'm not including the Editors in that list...) so I was hoping that Maximo Park would buck that trend.

And boy, have they ever. From the meaty opening organ note and guitar combo through the lyrically brilliant Books From Boxes to the lively semi-retro pop and exuberance of Karaoke Plays and A Fortnight's Time to the vaguely disturbing ending of Parisian Skies this album is probably as near to perfection as I've ever heard from an album of any genre at any time and certainly the best pop-rock album bar none. As a bit of a closet Del Amitri fan (well, quite a lot of a fan actually) I can hear certain similarities between the Maximo Park sound, especially on this album, and the little known first eponymous Dels album with it's tight mid-eighties pop-rock sound influenced by the late 70s punk and power pop genres. This is unquestionably a Good Thing.

Sadly, I probably won't get to see the band play live this year as it's now the festival season and then the only gigs they're doing before the end of the year are miles away but I will definitely be making an effort to go and see them some time in the next 12 months and I will be hoping that they can manage another album of such brilliant composition next time round too. It is often said "If you buy only one album this year, make it this one" but I'm not going to say that because next week sees the second album from the abso-bloody-lutely brilliant Editors and I have seriously high hopes for that too. Instead, I'll say that if you enjoy well-formed, tightly played and lyrically intelligent pop or indie rock then if this isn't in your collection then you're missing out.

9.5/10

Rain, cars, work and everything in between

2007-06-19T17:58:00.000Z

Bit of a gap in postings, for which I apologise, but there have been two very good, inter-connected reasons for that. Firstly, I have just returned from a week's sleeping in a wet, muddy field in France for the 24 Heures Du Mans. However, before I could get away for it, I had to complete a project which had a ridiculous deadline (which wasn't actually met but I managed to get extended somewhat) which was agreed by my boss with no actual consultation of the technical staff who would be doing the job (i.e. me). As a result, I had to spend several weeks working until 7 or 8 every night and do some work on weekends too. After getting home, I didn't much feel like writing anything so I didn't and I didn't have any time to think about what I might rattle on about anyway.

Anyhoo, I finally got the work done before I left (or at least, enough done in the time - many thanks to my colleague for picking up some of the tasks late in the day and doing a fantastic job on them) and I was working right up to the moment I left for my trip as I went straight from the office. Boy, did I need that break. It's only been a week in total and during that time I have driven over 1000 miles and had a day at home so only 4 full days were spent at Le Mans. Having set off at stupid o'clock on the Wednesday morning, we drove through some dodgy looking weather and a tug from the Gendarmes who took a dim view of the ninth member of our party being tied to the back of the van (a blow up sex-doll called Ruby - long story but suffice to say it was a piss take of an incident involving one of the lads a few years ago at Le Mans) to find the campsite dry, warm and not a little sunny so we immediately cracked open the beers and set about erecting our sleeping quarters. We had with us a borrowed 9 metre long marquee type thing with no floor which had been used by the group before (there were 8 of us this year). However, we managed to make the Chuckle Brothers look like a crack team of tent building specialists but eventually got the marquee up, the gazebo up, the gas BBQ and hob plumbed in, the generators running, both fridges going (and stocked with beer in one, food in the other), the stereo on, the wooden A-frame and sofa rigged up with ropes to make a garden swing chair and the microwave heating up the massive bowl of chilli we brought for the evenings dinner. Oh, and we had also laid the carpet in the marquee and rigged up the fluorescent lighting in the marquee and gazebo. Needless to say, we got a bit drunk (we had something like 15 crates of beer which is about 160 pints, 6 1/2 litres of vodka and a litre of Irish Whisky) and had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Sadly, about 1am it started to rain. A lot. It dawned on us that our spot was perhaps not the best as rain poured down off the track through the campsite, under the walls of the tent and into out sleeping area. Several of us had been planning to sleep on the floor all week (with airbeds, of course) but the ferocity of the rain soon made us re-consider.

Sadly, the pattern was set and the time we were there was mostly overcast and humid with vicious downpours that turned everything into a sea of mud 8 inches deep. We had to visit a local camping store so people could buy wellies. I bought a camp bed so I wouldn't be on the floor, two lads had brought with them their own tent and they moved into that as it had a groundsheet and one other guy bought a self erecting tent and shifted his bed into there. Still, the alcohol staved off the cold and we had a bloody good time, racing on the go-karts, driving down the famous Mulsanne straight, watching people in fast cars and bikes doing burnouts, wheel spins and donuts on the road alongside the campsite, and finally, watching the racing.

Now, I like cars, especially big, noisy, immensely powerful ones. I went to the British Grand Prix a few years back and experiences a noise from those incredibly high revving engines that I thought would never be matched. Wrong. It wasn't the LMP1 cars, like the Audi that won of the Peugeot that came second which sounded so good. They are diesel engines and are eerily, spookily even, quiet. Now was it their petrol engined counterparts from numerous other teams. Nor was it the less punchy LMP2 cars. No, it was the GT cars, GT1 class to be more precise and one or two of the GT2s as well.

The GT classes are all based on road cars so they are recognisable - the Aston Martin DB9, the Corvette C6, the Porcshe 911 GT3, Ferrari 430, Spyker C8 Squadron, Ferarri 550 Maranello, Lamborghini Murcielago and others besides. They're not even as powerful as formula one cars (in the region of 600bhp for GT1 and 450-500 for GT2) but they are light, they look fantastic and sound like nothing else. Every time the Aston Martins (one of which won the class and came 5th overall) changed gear, there was a terrific bang of overrun when un-burnt fuel ignites in the exhaust. The V12 positively howls with a noise to make the hairs on the back of any enthusiast’s neck stand on end. The Corvettes, meanwhile, have a lower much more growling V8 that barks and roars and makes the ground shake (literally). The Spykers provided twin flashes of combusting fuel every time they slowed down for a sharp bend and the Panoz V8s (run by LNT Racing) are so loud they almost hurt.

They look good too. The Aston Martin DB9 is a handsome beast to start with but the DB9R is pure motoring porn. The Corvette is handsome in a brutalist sort of way and the Spyker in particular has a fantastically lean and nimble look about it. Of course, every one has a favourite and mine is Aston Martin, without a doubt, so I was glad they won and I celebrated by buying a team shirt for a sum of money which I will not reveal as it makes me wince and may draw from you, dear reader, the dis-approving tuts reserved for those with more money than sense (although in truth, I shouldn't have bought it precisely because I didn't really have enough money to do so, but never mind, I like it and that's all that matters).

Sadly, the weather meant there was a lot of safety car action; even the last hour of the race was a procession behind the safety car (although it did come in with 10 minutes to go) in atrocious conditions but we put up with the soaking to watch then race end. We then walked up the track to the pit area, as you are allowed to do here, where we stood directly below where the presentations were made to the winners. We were even briefly on TV (well, on of our umbrellas is visible. If I can be arsed to find it, and it's there to be found, I'll try and get a screen grab of it). As a memento, I took home a 'marble' (a piece of rubber from the tyres which scrubs off on corners and collects on the outside of the bend, making that area of the track more treacherous for the cars) and a chunk of carbon fibre and composite structure which I found in the grass and must have come from one of the cars.

We finished the trip by trying to blow up out microwave by microwaving a beer can full of petrol (doesn't work) and generally setting fire to stuff which seems to be a bit of a tradition amongst those staying the Sunday night, especially this year when people looked at the state their tents had gotten into and decided that they really couldn't be arsed to pack it, take it home and try and clean it then dry it out. SO, after another early start, we packed up and made good time home and I finally got back after 510 miles of driving at about 6 last night, tired but very smelly and dirty (there are few showers at the campsites and long queues so it's easier to not bother - it's not as if we were staying at Claridges) and very much looking forward to a long, hot shower and a shave and being able to use a toilet whenever the mood strikes without having to queue. I even got some bargain 1997 Bordeaux Superieur on the way back.

Next year is already in planning - we are thinking of a Top Gear style challenge which will see teams of two or three with a budget of 500 quid coming up with 'star cars' so anything from film or TV is fair game (big up to the two we saw this year - a VW Scirocco done up rather nicely as the De Lorean from Back to the Future and a big LDV van which had had it's asthmatic old diesel lump swapped for a V8 and had been painted bright orange with a confederate flag on top and a Dixie horn - the 'General LDV'. In a Borat stylee, "Very naice, how much-a?"). There may well be a website for it too so if and when it happens, I’ll let you all know where to find it. Now though, I have had a day to recover and do the washing and clean the car (it was filthy inside and out) and tomorrow it’s back to work and reality but at least it’s a 3 day week. I’ll be counting the days until next year though – it may have been my fist visit to Le Mans but it certainly won’t be my last.

P.S. I'd like to big up Decathlon for having probably the best outdoors and sporting goods stores I've ever been in - their camp beds are highly recommended! They're bloody good value too.

I don't want no Scrubs...

2007-05-18T23:28:00.000Z

Actually I do. I've been a fan of US sitcom Scrubs since I accidentally caught an episode from the first series on cable TV years back, probably not that long after it had started. I remember seeing a trailer for it but not being a medical TV fan (think Casualty and Holby City, two of the most dirge-like and tedious programmes on TV today) I didn't bother to watch it, so I must have caught it on one of these catch up sessions of which channels are now so fond (they have to put less thought and cash in to get more or less the same viewing figures and ad revenue for a given time period - result!). It made me laugh until I was almost in tears and my sides hurt.

Since then I've been a devoted fan but recently I read something somewhere which suggested that series 6 was the last ever series which would have made the double bill aired in the States this week the last ever bit of Scrubs. Thankfully, this has proved unfounded as NBC have confirmed a seventh season will appear this autumn (along with a new season of Heroes with around 30 episodes. For those not in the know, Heroes is a cult series with a following almost as large and devoted as that of Lost, but the programme writers knew how to write something you could actually follow whereas the writers of Lost appear to have been smoking crack when they came up with most of the utterly incomprehensible storylines that they run with).

Oddly, Scrubs was almost a victim of its own success. It started in 2001 with a cast of virtual unknowns (at least on this side of the pond, perhaps an American reader might enlighten me as to any major achievements by any of the cast prior to the show?) with the sole exception, for me, of Sarah Chalke. Ms Chalke was better known to me as Becky from Roseanne (which was shown late on Friday nights on Channel 4 for years in the UK and which I liked for some reason. Probably because John Goodman was so damn funny. It certainly wasn't for Roseanne herself, who is a bit of a fruitloop). However as Scrubs became more popular, the ratings grew and therefore ad revenue grew because it was promoted to prime time slots and therefore the cast got paid more. It seems it's now so successful that the network can barely afford to pay the actors and writers. Still, I think it would be good to finish this programme with one final season which does whatever it needs to do because it is still funny but that can't last. Just look at Friends. It's even had it's own imitators such as Channel 4's desperately shit Green Wing. Still, they do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

It’s easy for Europeans to adopt a rather superior attitude to the Americans for all sorts of reasons, not least because so much American TV is utter shite. But, now and again, someone somewhere gets it right. Not only that but TV execs realise it and put on the programme. Lost is apparently an example of this although I’ve never seen the appeal, but Scrubs, Heroes, The Sopranos, Family Guy, Futurama, and The Simpsons are all evidence that America is capable of producing well written, well acted mainstream TV shows with wide appeal. There are even more examples of cult TV in other genres: Samurai Jack, Clone Wars and Dexter’s Laboratory are all cult cartoons from the creative genius that is Gennady Tartakovsky but there are plenty of other examples too.

So, I say vive American TV because now and then it throws out some real gems but in between times we can watch Jerry Springer, Judge Judy and Oprah and be thankful that our general populace isn’t quite as utterly retarded as some of the less savoury elements of our transatlantic cousins' society. Although anyone who has watched Tricia or Jeremy Kyle will know that we're trying really hard to emulate the most pikey elements of the public seen on Jerry Springer. Quite why, I have no idea.

Two posts in a day?

2007-05-08T20:18:00.000Z

Might have to change the title from 'occasional' to 'almost regular'.

This post is actually a replication of a post I have submitted tonight to cable forum because my broadband provider, Virgin Media, have pulled a bit of a fast one by introducing traffic shaping (or throttling or QoS, whatever you want to call it) without actually mentioning to, well, anyone including their own staff it would seem.

The original post is here and here are some of the internet resources reporting on the throttling:
Cable Forum, IS Preview and Neowin.

Hi all

New to the forum but having the same issue with traffic shaping. I am on a 4Mbit connection and have noticed it being a tad slow of late and tonight very much so. Someone at work told me about the shaping policy today, not even VM themselves which annoyed me a touch.

So, I rang up. First off I got a CS rep who didn't have scooby doo what I was talking about so he went off to talk to someone and afterwards maintained that actually these limits had always been in place under the Fair Use policy but were simply not highlighted. This I doubted, and I argued as such but could not prove it at that moment in time. He told me that if I looked in my ts and cs then I would see he was right. So, after a fruitless argument about it, I gave up and went hunting for the ts and cs Telewest sent me. I found them and they make no mention of these limits and in fact they do not even appear to mention the Fair Use policy at all, so rang again.

This time, I got a girl who said that a few people were asking managers about this as they were getting more and more calls. She told me I'd need to speak to broadband tech support and put me through. Enter stage right a call centre employee in Mumbai who clearly didn't even understand the question as there were massive pauses while he tried to locate some part of his script that might appease me (not his fault, obviously - he's simply the result of pointless cost cutting exercises. I'd rather have a lower top package which was genuinely unlimited with decent technical backup than headline grabbing alleged speeds and crap 'support' from someone 10,000 miles away). Anyway, eventually he put me on hold as he clearly didn't have the faintest idea what my query/complaint was about and after nearly half an hour I was cut off. Exeunt stage left the Worlds Worst Tech Support.

So, I tried a third time. This time I got though to yet another CS rep who told me I'd need to talk to broadband technical support. I said I didn't want to talk to the Indian centre because they simply don't have the level of English comprehension to understand what you're saying if your query deviates in anyway from their scripted answers. I was put through to a UK call centre (hurrah!) and was dealt with by a most helpful chap. Sadly, he didn't know anything about it either, so he asked a couple of managers. Unfortunately neither of them could agree on what the policy meant or how it would actually be implemented either.

However, this chap did then go and talk to someone else and it was eventually clarified that if you go over 750MB of download on a 4Mbit connection, you will get throttled. No ifs, no buts, that's exactly it. Of course, there's nothing the operators can do about it (anyone who thinks there is a big red button to remove throttling on and individual connection is sadly mistaken, I fear), but he told me to make a formal written complaint to the following address:

Telewest Broadband
Evolution House
1 Chippingham Street
Attercliffe
Sheffield
S9 3SE

and he assured me they take complaints very seriously. Now fair play to the lad, he was as nice and as helpful as he could possibly be and he even admitted that I knew more about it than he had done or his managers. He was also most apologetic that it had taken so long to get this simple (if blunt and rather unpalatable) answer. VM have not even had the decency to warn and train their own staff on this matter which has lead to half-truths, myths and downright lies about how these limits have always existed but not been publicised. As a result I have spent 2 hours on the phone trying to get to the bottom of it, I have spoken to 5 differnet people who have, in turn, spoken to the same number again while I was on hold. What a monumental waste of time. VM have tried to slip this though on the quiet because they want to penalise the lower packages in order to make their headline grabbing packages seem even better. As someone else has said, how can they now advertise their broadband as having no limits when it clearly does?

I really don't see why I should be penalised for taking advantage of new technologies that allow me to view tv over the web. That's what they all want isn't it? For us all to be using broadband to watch tv and access digital media services? But the second we do so we get punished.

Now much as I dislike conspiracy theories, it does seem a bit too neat that this has come into force at the same time 10Mbit packages have been upgraded to 20Mbit. This in itself is a bit annoying because 4Mbit and 2Mbit packages aren't being upgraded as far as I can see so 20Mbit users, theoretically, get 5 times the service for just 50% more dosh. Hmmm. Could it be they are desperate for everyone to upgrade? Don't they see that if everyone upgraded then the problems would just be worse? As for the new 50Mbit package, what's the point? Will that be subject to traffic shaping too? If so, what will the threshold be be and what will the throttled speed be? I can't see anyone who's shelling out a mooted £55/month for that service being too happy when their shiny new connection gets the life squeezed out of it.

Me? Well, I'll be writing to them with a formal and strongly worded complaint. I'm not happy at all, and I suggest anyone else who is affected by this, thinks they might be or just objects on principal does so too because we can whing all we want on forums but VM will not takwe the slightest bit of notice unless people actually complain formally to them in writing. Take the few minutes and the cost of an envelope and stamp and maybe, just maybe, if enough of us do it they will realise that people are annoyed enough to make a bit of effort and start paying attention to the people that pay their wages. Us.

Whoa! Watch the bandwagon.

2007-05-08T12:13:00.000Z

You may or may not be aware of some legal nonsense going on in the States whereby the AACS-LA has decided that even putting up a particular 128 bit hexadecimal integer on your website which so happens to be the same as one of their randomly chosen HD-DVD encryption keys is illegal. Their premise? They claim that the DMCA makes it illegal for anyone to reproduce this number without their permission, which they won't give, because it can be used to circumvent the DRM. But there's a good reason for having this number, not least of which is that it's a number so how the hell can you claim ownership of it? That's like me saying zero belongs to me and anyone wanting to use it must pay me a royalty. Such a claim would be treated with the disdain it so richly deserves so why one earth is anyone in the legal profession even entertaining this idiotic notion? Well, OK, the AACS-LA lawyers are no doubt getting paid a very large sum of money so I'm sure for enough cash they will entertain all manner of stupid ideas, but beyond that, why?

But there's more. The AACS-LA say that this particular number is just one of many encryption keys and thus it owns the rights to a whole bunch of other numbers (the quantity of value was unspecified I believe) and using them would be naughty too. They haven't just said this in a statement; they are making this claim in a lawsuit against websites which have published the number at the heart of all this silliness.

Enter Ed Felten, a professor at Princeton. He has come up with a genius idea which allows everyone to own an integer and if his system issues 2^128 numbers then we could, based on the AACS-LA premise, sue them for using our numbers. My number is

79 6E E4 46 10 72 DF 11 1F 55 E4 2C 0C 63 8D 0A

so keep your greasy mitss off it or I'll sue!!

There is a serious side to all this - Felten is pointing out the absurdity of someone claiming to own a number. The reason why this is such a big deal is that the number in question is a key which allows the DRM on HD-DVD discs to be circumvented. You might think "Well people shouldn't be trying to make illegal copies or be buying pirates so what's the problem?" but unless you circumvent the DRM these discs often will not play on a standard PC. If you own a legitimately bought disc then it is no business of the copyright owner as to what device you use to view it and so they have no business blocking your usage of the disc in a PC.

Sadly, the American legal system appears to be so weighted in favour of the utter paranoia employed by corporations in order to protect their interests (read: cash cows) that there's a chance they might actually win this nonsensical argument. So, sicne there's not really a lot we can do about it, I think everyone should get their own number (or maybe a few) from Felten's kindly provided system and then maybe set an example by licensing it with a Creative Commons Sharealike License which means you grant anyone and evryone the right to use your number(s), as this chap has.

The number above is mine, all mine, but the following numbers:

8C BC 03 EA 37 95 33 F3 7E DB 93 85 D3 E4 8F C4
24 CA FB 2A CE 25 15 E5 21 1A CE 56 B0 80 69 F9
5F 58 D1 4F 47 C1 A0 1F B7 88 A8 15 B4 77 8D 70
15 53 D2 0D 8E 12 28 4E 48 01 83 0C 56 69 19 CC

You can do what you like with under the CCSA license. Have a ball.

Beaten to it

2007-04-29T11:15:00.000Z

Well, it would seem that the Reactable as seen in my last post is available for purchase (although I still have no idea how much it is). And who else would you expect to be using one but short Icelandic mentalist Björk, who used one in conjunction with a lot of other expensive goodies during her set at Coachella.

Fans of the enigmatic Icelander will be pleased to know that she has a new album out in May this year. Her official site can be found here.

Music made fun

2007-04-28T16:27:00.000Z

Now, I like to play the guitar a bit. I played piano and drums when I was a kid and I fancy myself as a bit of a DJ. All of which make me want this multi-user synth very, very much. I'd have to save for a bit though as I reckon it'd be a bit pricey. Perhaps I could sell some interal organs or something?

Iffy layout

2007-04-18T20:44:00.000Z

You will have to excuse me if this page appears a bit odd looking for a bit. As a recent convert to Opera (the browser, not the musical stylings of Wagner, Puccini et al), I realised it was high time I actually got off my arse and fixed the stylesheet for this site so that it actually worked in browsers other than IE. It's almost there but there are one or two little gremlins that need to be ruthlessly hunted down and taken out the back to be beaten to death. Normal service will resume shortly.

Alan Johnston

2007-04-18T19:25:00.000Z

Still no word on the fate of BBC journo Alan Johnston. Help add to the pressure on parties who have influence in the region and sign the petition calling for his release. No hostage in this area has been held for so long or with this little information. Such acts only serve to harm the Palestinian cause, a fact not lost on the vast majority of Palestinians, who have been extremely vocal and pro-active in expressing their displeasure and disgust at this kidnapping. The very least we can do is add to that growing chorus of dismay.

By all account Johnston is a well thought of jounalist by the Palestinians themselves as well as his BBC colleagues and collegaues in other news agencies around the world. I hope you will spare a thought for his family. I certainly will.

Making your own luck

2007-04-10T19:43:00.000Z

Is it possible do you think? Making your own luck? In the last few days I think this has happened to me twice. Firstly, for some days I had the strange feeling that a bird was going to launch a turd at me from on high. This hasn't happened to me for years and somehow I felt as if I'd been dodging it for so long it was bound to happen; law of averages maybe. Anyway, for several days I was wary of birds flying overhead, especially pigeons, of which there are plenty round here, and sea gulls when I went for a day trip to the beach on Easter Saturday.

I don't like seagulls. They have mad, staring red eyes and are bloody vicious when the mood takes them. It was a seagull that launched a sloppy one at me last time, all over a new (and much prized) T shirt while on holiday in Devon with a mate. The mention of this incident still cracks up my mate as we had just been fishing off the rocks and I was wearing clumpy steel toe capped boots. The sight of me chasing after the offending gull, swearing blue murder and trying to boot it's bloody head off was too much for him (I'd like to apologise to anyone who was around at the time with kids as my language was exceptionally unsavoury. Pretty unlikely they'll be reading this but it's the thought that counts).

On Easter Sunday I decided that since it was a nice day I would take my book (Diaries 1969-1979 - The Python Years by Michael Palin, if you're interested) and go and find a quiet spot in the botanical gardens for a bit of a read in the sun. This I duly did and come 5 o'clock or so, I decided to wander home through the rest of the park. I'd almost left the park when all of a sudden I feel a thud on my shoulder. Yes, that's right, some scabrous bloody pigeon parked it's van load on my T shirt. I guess it could have been worse as a few inches to the right it would have been on my head and I was able to clean off the worst of it in some nearby public conveniences (which were absolutely foul, by the way. BANES council you should be ashamed to have such filthy facilities serving a huge kids play area and park). Luckily, given the proximity of large numbers of kids, I stopped myself from swearing too loudly, although a small boy nearby did look my way when I uttered a very rude word under my breath, or so I thought: I had my headphones in at the time so it may have been louder than intended.

Anyway, example number two was regarding my back. I occasionally get muscle spasm in my back which can last from a few hours to a few days and it is absolutely crippling. All you can do is take pain killers and stretch a bit. I hadn't had an attack for well over a year and I had recently got the ominous feeling that I was overdue for a bout and sure enough, this morning I felt the familiar tightening across the back muscles just above the kidneys. Sometimes it is so bad that you can barely breathe when in the middle of a spasm but I have been stamping on it with a mixture of ibuprofen and codeine.

So, there you have it: two occurrences in two days. Coincidence or is it really the case that you make your own luck and by thinking these things would happen they did happen? As a scientist, the answer to me is clearly that it's just the way it goes, and as an eternal pessimist in some ways I always expect the worst and so I am rarely disappointed (but often happily pleased when something turns out better than expected. Better than being an optimist and always being disappointed I've always felt). Still, it doesn't change the fact that one is annoying and the other is sodding painful!

Listening to: Grant Lee Buffalo - Fuzzy

Unbelievable...

2007-04-05T08:20:00.000Z

Speaks for itself really...

New game, old issues

2007-04-04T18:55:00.000Z

this week, I have been mostly playing...Command and Conquer 3 from EA Games. Whilst its a good game, in true EA style after only 5 days of being on general release there have already been three patches one of which is to fix the patch updater.

However, this is not the most annoying aspect, oh no. This comes from actually installing the patches because once you do, then it can stuff the odious copy protection system (SecuRom) so that when you try and start the game you get an error message: A required security module could not be activated. This program cannot be executed (5024). Well, ladies and gents, it seems that the patch does something which makes SecuRom not work with even more systems than normal (it has a habit of arbitrarily not working with some devices anyway and interestingly it is made by none other than DRM uber-weenies Sony, who have a less than sterling track record with this kind of stuff - they ended up in court).

So what's the problem? Well, it seems that the common link in all this (and my own empiric observations support this) is that if you run SysInternals Process Explorer (a much more feature rich replacement for Windows task manager which is now owned and distributed by Microsoft themselves) BEFORE you try and start the game, then this causes SucuRom to fail and thus the game to fail. The only solution is to reboot your system.

Yes, that's right, EA have managed to stop a huge number of legitimate gamers who have paid hard earned cash for their fully legal copy of the game from playing if they use a perfectly legal and freely available piece of software from the biggest software house in the world before firing up the game. Genius.

Talk about alienating your customers...

Vanity

2007-04-02T22:20:00.000Z

A while ago I started to wonder if anyone was reading my blog. Not that I'd have stopped if they weren't, but you can't help getting curious to know if anyone is reading your rants/drivel/philosophical musings so I've been tracking some basic info using Statcounter and to be honest, I'm amazed at the restuls. Now I'm hardly going to win awards for the amount of traffic on the site and I know I have a couple of regular reader who are friends of mine, one of whom is based in Hong Kong, but I have had a truly global readership so far.

Granted most of the hits are probably random (i.e. I've been lucky enough to be on the Blogger front page somewhere or linked from another blog as the 'Next Blog' link or something) but it's kinda cool to think that people in all these places might actually get a giggle out of my stuff. OK, so without people leaving comments it's hard to tell but assuming that people are reading your stuff is the basic and essential vanity of the blogger. For some reason I seem to be popular in China (probably getting crawled by the state firewalls and blacklisted as an evil capitalist!) and I can't help thinking the Peruvian, Polish and Kuwaiti hits were accidental ones but it does make the map look more impressive. All I need now is Russia, the subcontinent, the Antipodes and, the creme de la creme, Antarctica (although this might be a bit ambitious).

Oh well you never know. Africa would be good too although I suspect most people in Africa have better things to do than read the ramblings of a middle class 30-something from the UK so fair do's on that one really.

By the way, don't panic - the stats I collect are private and do not identify you. I'm only interested in seeing if I get hits, how many and where from. Believe me, working in IT you tend to be far more mindful of online privacy than most and I don't much like my data being collected so I make damn sure I can't get anyone else's.

Quality programming...

2007-04-01T20:10:00.000Z

I'm half watching the BBC's Castaway at the moment and there's a new arrival on the island - a cow. It arrived overnight so when one girl went out of the hut early for some reason she was the first to see it in the field. The cow moos at her and she rushes back into the hut with a look of consternation on her face. She wakes a couple of the other inhabitants and tells them: "You know down at the bottom of the hill...there's a horse!".

How the fuck can you not know the difference between a cow (which has just mooed at you) and a horse? They are, for the most part, the most imbecilic, vacuous pillocks I have seen outside of a Channel 4 production. Give me strength...

I know that face...

2007-04-01T10:37:00.000Z

For a while now it's been bugging me that the girl from the Bradford and Bingley advert looks very familiar. Yesterday I twigged - she's a Spong Monkey!

A net gain

2007-03-27T22:01:00.000Z

I know - that's a really crap pun, but I got my fishing nets back. The guilty party had, it seems, simply slung them into the garden behind ours but they were near enough behind a shed (ironically enough) so I didn't see them until they were moved. I went round to get them this evening and it turns out the house owner is the same kind soul who, when they spotted the shed being broken into first time round, rang Plod and told them where to catch a tea leaf red-handed. Which they did.

However, this chap told me this evening that the police couldn't actually prosecute him. "Why not?" I asked, a not unreasonable question given that he was caught bang to rights. Apparently, despite the fact that this chap saw it happen and the police caught the light-fingered git with the stolen bike, they could not prosecute because there was only one witness. I was utterly astounded: What the hell is the point of having a court system when it won't prosecute because the crime wasn't witnessed by two priests, a JP and several sober citizens of good standing? It's absolutely ludicrous. This means that anyone can burgle, rob and generally be a pain in the arse and it won't matter if someone sees them or even if Plod catch them with their ill-gotten gains because you won't get prosecuted if only one person saw you. Completely crackers.

So, after being banged up for Christmas (some small justice at least as it meant he couldn't go and pinch some poor kids Christmas present to exchange for a small amount of skag cut with oven cleaner) he was turfed out onto the streets to carry on being an anti-social menace. Don't you just love how the law really works to protect us from criminal activity? It's no wonder so many coppers now have well-read blogs because it's the only way they can vent their total frustration with a system ill-prepared to cope with any actual crime fighting and entirely centred around being culturally aware, being able to spot a diversity (whatever that is) and generating vast amounts of paper in order to prove that crime rates are falling thanks to the latest government fiddle. I mean initiative.

Marvellous. Well, thank you and goodnight.

Listening to: The Rakes - 22 Grand Job

Why should I put up with this?

2007-03-25T17:52:00.000Z

I have just come back from a weekend away and after a long but comfortable drive I had had it in mind to write something about cars and such like. Sadly, when I got home I found out that our shed has been broken into for the second time in 3 months. Somehow, I no longer feel like talking about cars.

Several things, apart from the obvious, piss me off about this. For a kick off, there are several other sheds in the gardens around mine, all of them just as accessible as mine and probably with more stuff in them so why was mine targeted? Not that I'd wish it on my neighbours but why mine? To get to it you have to walk down a muddy alley way between the backs of two rows of houses and it's the last (and most exposed) shed of the lot so why pick it?

Next up, there is a window in the shed so you can see that the only things in it are some old tiles, a cheap mower and my old fishing gear so again, why bother breaking in? There is nothing worth stealing.

Thirdly, I live in a nice area. It's not a slum or rough in any way. In fact it's quite cosmopolitan with a range of people from students to pensioners covering professionals, families and so on. Where are these scumbags coming from? It's true that Bath has a lot of skag heads about but this is a pretty low-crime area.

The other things that annoy me about this: My housemates were in all night last night so the prick who did it did so with no regard to being caught. There is no point telling the Police because whilst I'm sure they'll come round and we'll get a crime number, there's not a lot they can really do about it unless we catch the fucker in the act and even then we have to rely on them getting here in time (although they did last time and caught the scrote red-handed so much kudos to my local constabulary for that. Sadly, he probably got a mild ticking off by the magistrate and told not to do it again and I strongly suspect that in fact it was the same contemptuous little turd who came back this time). The only thing this feckless shit actually succeeded in doing was to throw our cheapo mower out onto the lawn, break the door, rip a corner column from a set of cheap wooden shelves in the shed and throw it into the back alley and, it would appear, steal my net bag. This bag contained my landing and keep nets for fishing and frankly, they smell a bit rough, are covered in crap and are worth precisely fuck all so exactly what was the point of this other than mindless vandalism?

Whoever it was did drop their cigarette lighter but I don't think Old Bill are likely to want to fingerprint it. I am sick and tired of the ignorant attitude of these miserable, parasitic arseholes who know full well that they can do as they please and get away with it and it is the law abiding portion of society who, as usual, suffer. If I caught whoever it was at it, I would quite frankly beat them senseless because I have a relatively short fuse for this sort of thing and I would not hesitate to exact my revenge but of course then I'd be the one getting locked up (although I imagine that I could argue that I felt threatened and had used reasonable force to defend myself but it is a system that is totally stacked in favour of the thieving cretin. Perhaps if we were actually allowed to give these turds the hiding they so richly deserve they might think twice about doing it in the first place. Who knows?)

I'm sure there are plenty of liberals, social workers and other feeble minded morons who would say that it wasn't the perp's fault and it was all down to their upbringing. Well that's bullshit. You have to completely retarded to not know that stealing is wrong and illegal and they know full well what they're doing. This liberal mumbo-jumbo horseshit that says we should be nice to criminals has been proven not to work because we have more petty crime than ever before. Thieving pikeys know only too well that the criminal justice system will do no more than give them a bit of a telling off and that even if they do get sentenced to a week in jail, or whatever ludicrous sentence is handed out, it'll be a doddle. They'll have access to TV, porn, pool tables, gyms, the lot, all paid for by John Q Taxpayer, so we get arse fucked twice: Once when they steal, vandalise and otherwise harass us and then a second time when they live the life of Riley at our expense in a holiday camp.

Now, I am just livid and the worst thing is I know that there is not a damn thing I can do about it. Why should I go out and work my arse off, as I have done for years, so that I can enjoy the fruits of my labours only to have some rat boy, who is no doubt doing very nicely out of the benefits system once again at our expense, come and steal and vandalise my stuff and for me to have no recourse whatsoever? Can you tell me how it is that that seems like a fair system? Can anyone explain why it is that I should have to stand by and watch as petty thieves, junkies and junior yobs run riot without any respect for anyone or anything especially the rule of law or a fear of the consequences? No, thought not.

For me, our current government embodies everything I hate and despise about this country with it's slimy, lying, ineffectual policies and the total inability to actually do something positive for the vast majority of law abiding ordinary citizens. I used to vote Tory in the nineties but then once Major was outed I stopped because what was left was an assortment of half-arsed idiots who I wouldn't have trusted to sit on the toilet the right way round. I moved to the Lib Dems but then Paddy Ashdown left and they became a joke party who might as well have their underpants on their heads because they certainly couldn't muster up enough gumption to make a decent fist of running the country, or indeed any policies that made any sense.

So where does that leave me? I suppose, given my rant here about idiotic liberal policies and leftist social workers I should be heading back to the right of centre (quite some way right of centre in terms of the criminal justice system) but I can't bring myself to vote Tory again. David Cameron? Please, the man is nothing more than a chinless, braying ex-public school yahoo with nary a decent idea in his head. The Tories have this notion that if they have younger cabinet members then somehow it makes them more relevant and electable, but the idea of George Osborne and Oliver Letwin having any kind of power scares me silly because they're just as smarmy, moronic and self-interested as Cameron and indeed the Blair government.

No, I think what this country needs is a return to real fire and brimstone politicians who mean what they say, do what they say they're going to do and don't fanny about with these idiotic bureaucratic measures that just cripple our public services and the country in general. While I have never been a fan of the left nor of the unions I would have voted for Labour with John Smith at the helm without hesitation because the man was a direct thinker and had a no-bullshit approach to politics. Politics doesn't need the smarm and the media whoring - it needs integrity and common bloody sense.

It's worth remembering that left wing governments have done some good things in the past (there have also been some which were diabolical and made a mess of the country but that applies to the right as well). The NHS is one example that springs to mind, and once upon a time, they would have been just as tough on criminals as the right wing governments. Why on earth do we have to be driven by bleeding heart liberals now? Screw the Human Rights Act - if you commit a criminal act worthy of serious punishment then you have suspended any entitlement you might have had to anything more than the basic requirements of life because in committing a crime, you have most likely denied the rights of someone else. Get used to it. Not that I'd advocate a return to Victorian conditions but TV's in cells? Sorry but why should I pay to provide that? I would happily pay for effective drug rehabilitation schemes, education and the like but if you won't play ball then you should be shackled into a chain gang and made to break rocks and then locked into your cell whenever you're not breaking rocks. As for anyone caught with drugs in jail or smuggling them in or distributing them, they should be immediately placed in solitary for a long time because they have no right to fuck up someone else's chances of being rehabilitated.

Prison is about two things: Punishment and rehabilitation. Rehabilitation is not achieved by being soft. It is achieved by being strict, instilling discipline, respect and pride. Getting someone off drugs and getting them some education and maybe training so that they can become a useful member of society - that's rehabilitation, but pandering to the whims of recidivist scum is not punishment. Nor are the pitiful sentences handed out these days.

Anyway, I could go on about this for a very long time now that I'm fired up, and indeed I already have but it would be rather pointless - I have have put my point across now and would only be raking over the coals of many other columnists who are better writers than I or who are directly involved with criminal justice such as David Copperfield (who has both those bases covered), so I'll pack it in before I become too bitter or start foaming at the mouth.

Until next time readers (all three of you: Big up to Amanda, Andy and Rob).

Giggletasticmungus!

2007-03-19T22:37:00.000Z

Right now I'm far too busy being excited about my shiny new (well, newish) car to rant about anything or be serious so instead, might I direct you to a very funny website instead? I will just say that if you're easily offended or even slightly more hardened to naughty words than that, you might just find Cunts Corner a bit much. But it's fucking funny. No, really - it usually makes me laugh out loud and that's no mean feat I can tell you.

I'd forgotten allabout this site until the other day and I can't for the life of me remember what brought it to mind, but it was originally shown to me by an ex-girlfriend (who turned out to be a right mentalist, by the way) and it just gets better and better.

Enjoy!

And now for something...

2007-03-13T20:16:00.000Z

...a bit different. My regular readers (all three of you) have been subjected to some quite lengthy rants of late so here's a short post for you.

I think this is called karma.

Some amusing guff from someone who, it is safe to say, is not a PS3 fan.

And finally, if you're a cat lover, you will probably find yourself secretly admitting to yourself that you really are like this.

It's not my fault.

2007-03-08T20:53:00.000Z

For quite some time now I've been reading the Coppers Blog which, in case you're not aware, is written by a serving British police constable under the nom de plume of PC David Copperfield. I can't remember where I found out about it (probably The Register or something like that) but it struck a chord instantly. Maybe it was the fact that at last there was some evidence that there was still some common sense left at the front line of policing as opposed to the vacuous political posturing that oozes from the upper echelons of the police force, or maybe it was that I share many of views on crime and punishment, chief amongst which is the belief that prison should be a punishment and therefore a discouragement to recidivate. Whatever, I have always found him to be an excellent writer and I now follow his blog closely and I am reading the collected works of the blog in his book, Wasting Police Time.

One recurring theme, however, is the tendency towards a victim culture in the UK and today has probably seen the best set of examples that I can remember in the news. The base stories cover health issues, violence and yobbish behaviour, premium rate telephone 'scams' and I'm sure there was one other but I think three is enough for now.

Let start with the health story that a woman who weighs 42 stone (yes, thats 42 stone or 588lbs or 267.3kg if you prefer - more than a quarter of a metric tonne). She and her family had a moral duty to do something about this problem much, much earlier than now and yet they did not. Now she and they are trying to devolve all responsibility onto the health care system with an "It's not my faultW attitude. How is it not your fault? You don't get to be 42 stone by magic, it takes time and you're quite likely to notice that you can no longer walk. Which also means that her family are just as guilty because if she can't move then where is the supply of food coming from? Hmmm...let me think. Not only that, but the best part of £60,000 of public money was spent on an attempt to help her lose weight by attending the Priory clinic for three months, and indeed she did, but afterwards, she claims she received no support. Somehow I doubt that. I used to smoke. It's an addiction and pretty serious one at that, but it was no ones fault but my own that I had it and I did not expect everyone else to do the leg work in getting me off the fags. I had to do it myself because it was my personal responsibility to do so, but this kind of reasoning seems to have passed these people by.

But to cap it all, and what rankles most, is that a quick Google search shows that this woman has engaged the services of a publicist by the name of Jonathan Hartley. Why the hell does she need a publicist? My take would be that she's eaten herself into a corner, doesn't want to die (naturally enough) but frankly can't be bothered to accept the help available, believing instead that there is some sort of magic wand the NHS could wave if they so chose but that they are withholding it and that by hiring a publicist it will shame the NHS into using it. Absolutely absurd. And that's without mentioning the rather crass opportunism by the publicist who claims to have 'worked tirelessly', which I doubt very much indeed.

So, that's number one. Let's look at the next case study. It's the case of one Toni Comer, 20, of Sheffield. Here is someone who is gets utterly legless, ejected from a club for being aggressive and then resists arrest after she vandalises a doorman's car in revenge. Sorry, but if you're violent and aggressive and try to resist arrest vigorously like this then you have to expect the police to get a bit physical in order to subdue you (and she was apparently trying to turn the copper into a eunuch. Personally, I'd have done the same in his shoes and made damn sure she was cuffed ASAP by whatever method was necessary).

Somehow, she feels she is the innocent party in all this and was subject to police brutality. Not my fault guv, oh no. So it wasn't you who got steaming drunk, was violent and maliciously damaged a car then? Must have been someone else the magistrate found guilty, clearly. Worse still is that because the girl has mixed race parentage, a local race relations campaigner has stepped up claiming that this was an example of racism in the police. To be quite honest, when I saw the girl interviewed I would have said she looked a bit Mediterranean if anything but in a dark alley like the one this took place in, I doubt she looked much different from the next pissed up 20 year old townie trog. However, this simpleton race relations manager proceeded to liken the incident to the shameful Rodney King episode in LA in 1991. Quite apart from the very real possibility that this man had just slandered the officer on national television, it was an unhelpful and baseless accusation as he has no evidence for this whatsoever. If she had white parents would this fuss be here now? What if the officer was female? What if the officer was black? I doubt we would have half as much fuss about it.

And lastly we have something which relates to the story that all the British terrestrial channels have now suspended premium rate phone-ins after complaints and criticisms at the way they have been organised and run. BBC Radio One's evening news show, Newsbeat, featured a brief interview with a man whose phone bill ran to over £9,000. He seemed shocked that he was expected to pay this, claiming that the phone company should have cut him off rather than let him rack up a bill this size. I'm sorry, since when did it become your phone company's responsibility to stop you being a gullible moron and dialling premium rate numbers? Why should they be held responsible for your inability to think that you might not be able to afford to make thousands of calls to numbers which charge anything up to 60 or 70 pence each time you call? I have a vision of the man in my head and I'm guessing he doesn't work and watches daytime TV and is so monumentally thick that I'm surprised he hasn't forgotten how to breathe. Although I could be wrong. You'd have to be pretty bone headed not to see and hear the warnings about how much these phone-ins cost and that they charge you regardless of whether or not you get through.

Come on people. In all these cases YOU WERE AT FAULT. You cannot shift the blame elsewhere and claim it was all someone else's fault, you must accept responsibility for your actions, you spineless creatures. When will this country stop encouraging a cult of the victim by pandering to these idiotic liberal ideals that suggest that there's always some other reason for peoples actions and we shouldn't judge them? Yes we bloody well should! Just because health care is free it doesn't mean we can abuse it by not caring about our health until the last minute then accusing the NHS of not sorting out our problems for us. Our streets are crawling with plebs who know full well that if they want to commit some sort of crime then they are more or less free to dos o. the police are drowning in bureaucracy, the courts will let them off and in no time they'll be aback on the streets again free to do as they please.

Punishment should be there to discourage. Hard labour is something that would discourage. Being banged up with no home comforts would discourage. Being allowed to smoke where you want, when you want, have porn brought to you, watch TV and play pool is not a punishment, it's just something that tides over the boredom until you get out, and until prison is a suitable punishment and whilst we have these 'bleeding heart' liberals and social worker lefties insisting that they're all really nice people underneath (instead of the malignant sociopaths most of the rest of us know them to be) we will not have an effective criminal justice system. And, until we manage to instill a sense of social conscience back into people,we will also have more and more people complaining that the world has done them wrong and none of it is their fault and that everyone else should have done something about it. Well, sorry but you have no sympathy from me and I suspect the same goes for a pretty sizable amount of the general public. Grow up, take responsibility for yourself and stop wingeing. Then we might just take you seriously. After all, remember the boy who cried wolf? One day it really might not be your fault or a rogue copper really might go to town on you and who will believe you then?

Corporations don't learn from mistakes...

2007-03-04T16:57:00.000Z

...they just pretend they do. A few years ago, Sainsburys was doing very nicely. It had always been viewed as a slightly more superior supermarket than Tesco (although perhaps not quite as upmarket as Waitrose and, to some extent, Marks & Spencer) and all was rosy as the traditionally middle class market that Sainsburys attracted was affluent and willing to spend on premium products. But then it all started to go wrong. An incredibly stupid decision by Sainsburys back in November 2000 to outsource their IT to a large firm (Accenture) backfired when a new stock control system was a total disaster and left the shelves bare. I'm not going to talk about the evils of outsourcing, a triumph of hope over experience which many companies continue to do in the foolish belief that they really will get a better service for less money, because that could take up an entire book. No, I'm going to talk about how Sainsburys have tried to recover from the effects of this catastrophically stupid decision.

Obviously, after dropping such a huge bollock that they had to post their first ever loss, the first thing a big company has to do is blame someone and fire them and then hope like buggery that whoever they employ next manages to turn things around. Mind you, at least the next incumbent didn't have to worry about IT as the CEO, Justin King, announced a campaigned entitled Getting The Basics Right, the core of which was to hire an extra 3,000 shelf stackers. Since that time, there have been rumblings now and again about issues at Sainsburys: Losing market share, subsequent loss of revenue and so on and I can tell you why.

First off, I'll say that once upon a time I was a Tesco devotee. This is probably because I grew up in an are which Tesco had stitched up from top to bottom to the exclusion of any other big supermarkets (north Cambridge, if you're interested) and I, like many of my peers at school, had a Saturday job there. And it was pretty good too - the money was better than average, I enjoyed what I did, we got paid holiday and there was a good, subsidised canteen. However, after graduating and moving to south Birmingham I discovered that there was no easily accessible Tesco in my area (at least not a decent sized one) so I started to shop at Sainsburys. This was 1998 and I had been shopping at Sainsburys for the last year of my degree so I wasn't too bothered about where I got my food from so long as it wasn't Safeway (full of dole bludgers) or Kwik Save (so pikey, even the local winos wouldn't go in for cheap tramp juice).

When, a few years later, I moved to the South West (east Bristol), I had another choice to make. There was a giant Asda hypermarket more or less on the doorstep or I could drive a few miles to the nearest Sainsburys (again, no Tesco within a sensible distance although there are several decent sized ones in Bristol itself). Given that Asda was inhabited by obese, shuffling, dead-eyed chavs wearing velour leisure wear with inappropriate slogans like 'Active' or 'Sexy' plastered across their corpulent arses, Sainsburys was an instant winner. But I started to notice the supply issues soon after (not surprising as it was about this time that the board realised they just performed the impressively moronic trick of making a very large amount of money disappear into the pockets of incompetent and cretinous consultancy firms for next to fuck all result at the other end). This was all the more surprising since this particular store was almost literally within shouting distance (and by that I mean no more than half a mile) from a huge Sainsburys distribution centre and yet the shelves were regularly empty. After the embarrassing admissions, the sacrificial offering of the head of supply chain and lots of promises, I, like many others I guess, assumed that all would soon be well.

But no. Three years on and all is still not well. I have no idea if the company really did employ another 3,000 shelf stackers or not, but all the shelf stackers in the world will not help if you do not have the right products being delivered at the right time. Generally speaking I do my supermarket shopping on the way home from work as the store is only a short detour from my normal route home, so I'm usually there at about 6pm on a Monday or Tuesday. I can almost guarantee that I won't get several items because I shop at this time. I have been in on a normal Tuesday evening before now and there has been not one piece of fresh chicken on the shelves, no whole milk of any kind (and I personally prefer organic - something which I will come back to shortly). There's no point in looking for fresh bread and more often than not there will be at least one or two other items I intend to get that I can't. If this were the day or two before Christmas or Easter then perhaps it would be understandable, if not acceptable, as people do seem to buy obscenely large amount of food before these holidays and it must be tricky keeping the shelves full when the products are more or less taken straight off the pallets by the customers. But it isn't: This is an ordinary week night, so why is it that I can't get basic products like chicken, milk and fresh bread? The few staff that do seem to be around (maybe they didn't hire 3,000 extra staff after all) are all utterly gormless, disinterested and generally useless.

I mentioned organic milk for a reason. I prefer it to the rather bland homogenised pap that most people seem happy to buy but my beef here is that Sainsburys never, ever, have organic milk that isn't short dated. Tesco do. Asda do. even Morrisons do, so why the bloody hell can't Sainsburys manage it? And it's not just in my area. My sister, who lives in Northern Ireland, buys organic milk because it contains higher levels of Omega 3 fatty acids which is apparently good for the brain development of kids and she, her child minder and one of my cousins have all said, independently of each other, that they find the same problem with Sainsburys over there and they have to go to Tesco or Marks and Spencer's instead.

As if this wasn't enough there's then the issue of these new self-checkouts (maybe I should have been more wary of a Sainsburys IT project?). I have seen and used them in Tesco and Asda as well and they seem to be fine there, apart from the fact that most of the people who queue up in front of me to use them are the kind of morons who have problems with an on-off switch, so quite why they think they can operate one of these is a mystery. All they achieve is to slow down the whole process as they dither, generally make a hash of things or try and stuff their debit card into the receipt slot. The Only reason I use them is because it means I don't have to converse with a spotty, slack-jawed checkout monkey who stares at the keypad as I try to type in my PIN surreptitiously. However, Good old J Sainsbury & Co have taken things one step further.

Yesterday, a busy Saturday morning, two of the four checkouts were out of order. After waiting for the usual assortment of old people, students paying with shrapnel and dribbling idiots to clear off, it was my turn. First, I had to obtain a bag from the carelessly thrown stack on top of the machine, there because the assistant couldn't be arsed to put them in the packing area holders like they're supposed to. So, when I got one and put it on the holders so it would stay open, the machine instantly complained that there was an unexpected item in the packing area and sulkily refused to do anything more. I was sorely tempted to give it another unexpected item, only this time it would have been my size twelve boot at high speed. Instead, I kept my cool, the assistant finally pressed some sort of button and it graciously let me scan my shopping.

I found that: There was more than one kind of new potatoes in the system but only one kind had a picture. When it was selected however, it would ask me how many I had which clearly wasn't right. It seems that the right button was a cryptically named one with no image on it. Obviously. It whinged that I hadn't scanned things properly and that items weren't found. But best of all was the last item. I had bought a 9 roll pack (plus 3 free!) of Andrex which clearly isn't going to fit in a carrier bag or my rucksack, me having walked since it was a nice day I'm doing my bit to reduce my car usage. It scanned fine and there is an option on screen you can press to 'skip bagging', evidently for items such as this so that the till doesn't complain that it expected something in the bagging area but didn't see it (although this mystifies me: Why does it matter? If you've scanned it, you're paying for it so why should it complain if it doesn't go into the bagging area? Surely it is much more sensible to complain if something appears which wasn't scanned). Anyhoo, I pressed 'skip bagging' and proceeded to get my wallet out to pay when a big message flashed up on screen telling me that I needed store approval to skip bagging, despite already having skipped bagging for heavy items which were going in the rucksack without any complaint whatsoever. Store approval. For me to not try and put 12 rolls of bum rag in a carrier bag. Are you serious?

Apparently so. It would not let me pay until some operator had come over and said yes, that's OK. This is absolutely absurd. Why in the name of all that is sensible do I need to permission to not bag some bog roll? What's worse is that when I turned to the operator to get this done, she was deep in converstaion with two colleagues and a customer who had bought the wrong cream to make a cake with. It took three of them to try and decide that soured cream was defintiely the wrong choice and that she'd need something else. "No shit? Now could one of you mouth breathers come and press this damn button so I can get the hell out of here."* It would seem not as they then had to have a debate about which is the right cream while I stood there rapidly approaching the point when I am likely to chin someone, waiting to pay and with the queue getting bigger and bigger. Eventually some pustulant youth came over and grudginly stabbed a pudgy finger at some pictograms and swiped a dog-eared card which allowed me to pay and get the hell out of there.

So, the great 'mystery' as to why Sainsburys are losing custom can be summed up pretty simply: Poor service, poor availability of goods and unhelpful, surly and generally stupid staff. But it can't be hard to do; after all, Asda, Tesco, Morrisons and the rest manage all right and their staff are probably no better paid and have to wear equally repugnant uniforms and yet they mange to be helpful and they and their managers keep the shelves stocked with the right products. Sadly, I have little choice but to use Sainsburys, although I try and buy meat and veg from an excellent farm shop near my office and at weekends I try to make an effort to go to Waitrose who are by far and away the best quality supermarket with the best social conscience, if a little pricey. I also try and use farmers markets (the meat and veg is better from markets and small shops as supermarket veg is grown for shelf life, not flavour, and the meat is grown for big margins, not real quality). Until the day Sainsburys really grab the nettle and tackle these problems systematically and sensibly, they will continue to lose favour with the public. Maybe with talk of a takeover (after all, they are ripe for it) things will improve. I hope so because it would be a shame to lose such a big and once proud player.

Sorry this has turned out to be so long a post - I had no idea it would be such a diatribe, but supermarkets constantly irritate me and although I am doing what I can to give my business to alternative providers which helps cut down on the choke hold supermarkets have on the producers, I still have to use them from time to time so I think I have a right to expect decent service from them and I am therefore quite passionate about it. Anyway, if you've had particularly bad or good experiences with Sainsburys or any other chain, let me know (keep it clean please - no libellous stuff).

Listening to: Wes Straub - Insistence

* I didn't really say that, but I wanted to.

Artistic integrity: Not dead, just rare

2007-02-27T21:35:00.000Z

I was quietly impressed by the request of the Deep Purple lead sing Ian Gillan to fans exhorting not to buy a recently re-released live recording of the band performing at the Birmingham NEC in 1993 because it was a bit shit. He could just as easily have let Sony to continue to sell the CD and raked in the royalties but he asked fans not to bother because it was just before the band split and was extremely ropey. On top of that, Sony BMG apparently didn't tell him they were planning to re-release it (which probably miffed him a bit) and it has now withdrawn it form sale. So there are still some musicians who aren't just miserable, grasping egotists who don't give a stuff about their fans. Which is nice.

Listening to: Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness

Magic rollers

2007-02-22T23:51:00.000Z

I have just spent the evening helping a friend paint his new flat to cover the years of vile colours and second hand fag smoke. Can someone tell me why it is when using a paint roller that you roll and roll and roll until absolutely no more paint will come out but if you then go to wash out the damn thing several spare gallons will magically appear from it necessitating what seem to be several hours of washing out?

Anyway, I am going to Ireland for the weekend (family do - how very thrilling. I am going to miss all the 6 Nations rugby AND going to see Bath vs Saracens with my mates. I am not impressed) so no posts until Monday when no doubt I will be able to rant about how rubbish Easyjet and Bristol airport are, assuming the plane hasn't skidded off the runway in a ball of fire because there was a bit of drizzle that morning. In the meantime, I'll leave you to ponder just how bloody lucky this chap is.

Snobbery and posthumous recognition

2007-02-21T19:36:00.000Z

I first heard of Nick Drake some years ago whilst listening to a cover CD from Mixmag (August 2001 issue, if you're interested), which was part of a series called The Bedroom Sessions. Essentially, these CD's were mixes done by various artists from the world of dance which comprised a selection of their influences and this particular one covered the British house/pop crossover outfit Faithless. There were a number of worthy old-skool hard hitters such as Nu Yorican Soul, Dillinger and A Man Called Adam, some contemporaries like Bent and MJ Cole, and plenty of stuff I'd never heard of, including the last track which was called Riverman by some bloke called Nick Drake.

I fell in love with this track immediately. It has a dreamy end-of-summer feel to it due in no small part to Drake's incredibly soulful voice and an unusual rhythm (5/4 for all you music nerds out there). I listened to it a lot but never quite got round to finding out more until recently. Just a few weeks ago I got hold of two of Drake's three studio albums, Five Leaves Left and Pink Moon. Both albums are filled with fantastically evocative folk tunes, in the case of Pink Moon they are largely unaccompanied save for Drakes voice and it is absolutely timeless; I just don't tire of it.

For those of you who have never heard Nick drake, you can read more here, but in a nutshell, he was a self taught folk guitarist (but also played piano, clarinet and saxophone very well by all accounts). He dropped out of a Cambridge University scholarship just 9 months before graduating but was sorely under-appreciated at the time and he constantly struggled with depression and insomnia. He , like most musical children of the sixties, smoked cannabis and occasionally took heroin, LSD and magic mushrooms, none of which would have helped the depression, but tragically he died at his parents home aged just 26 from an apparent overdose of antidepressants, although some of his friends believe it may have been accidental as he was beginning to be positive about his life and music after a bleak few years and that he took more antidepressants in an effort to increase this feeling of positivity rather than kill himself.

Whatever the reason, he left behind a small musical legacy which sold very, very little at the time. But a strange thing happened: After his death, his popularity and fame slowly increased and now he is cited as one of the most important songwriters of the 20th century with artists such as Jose Gonzalez, Badly Drawn Boy, Peter Buck (REM) and Robert Smith (The Cure) citing him as a major influence. Drake was very keen on unusual open tunings on the guitar (whereby if the strings are played with no fingers on the fretboard, you get a chord) as well as some unusual cadences which makes it hard to try and copy his work, as I have found out in trying, with some success and a little help from other web sites, to play Pink Moon.

It's tragic that such a talented artist should die so young and that he should not get the recognition that he deserves whilst alive, although he is not unusual in this. But the biggest tragedy, to my mind, is the utter snobbery he encountered in the folk music world in particular and the music industry in general. He did get some favourable reviews but he got far more which were indifferent or even disparaging. The music press was more interested in rock at the time as the lo-fi 60's sound gave way to the rock influences which grew up in the same decade and morphed into prog rock and eventually punk, glam and a host of other sub genres. The reviewers evidently figured that if it wasn't rock, then it wasn't any cop (although music journalism is generally so far up it's own arse even today that the same still applies).

But what grates most of all is the folkies and their reaction. Folk is generally a fiercely traditional genre and there's nothing wrong with that in itself, but sadly it became obsessed with its own dogma and was (and in many ways still is) personified by a paunchy middle aged bloke in a chunky cable knit sweater with a beard you could hide in. Although this character undoubtedly still exists today, I have no doubt that if Drake had been releasing those albums exactly as they are but in the here and now, he would have been immeasurably more successful commercially as the folk genre has loosened up and recognised that there is such a thing as contemporary folk music. Folk was the music of the people and it was ever changing. It is not until recent times that followers attempted to nail down their definition of what was and wasn't folk music, but these 'traditionalists' shunned Drake, it seems, for his non-adherence to their assumed norms of the genre.

This is something noted by the ever witty Mark Radcliffe in his autobiography, Showbusiness, The Diary of a Rock And Roll Nobody:

"They are the kind of imbeciles who will walk out in disgust if you have the audacity to miss out verse sixteen of 'Sir John a'Gaunt's Lament'...He'd had a bellyful of sweating buckets over his Martin acoustic only for some grizzly, bespectacled barmpot in corduroy plus-fours to come over and say, 'Not bad, but I think you'll find that "The Merry Milkmaid of Wessex, she did meet a ewe inseminator, oh" should be performed unaccompanied.' It was impossible to sate their appetite for historical accuracy"

Narrow minded people like this dismissed Drake and that would be a knock for anyone but he took it particularly hard which is a shame because it no doubt contributed to the circumstances which led to his death. Musical snobbery is still rife today, but at least listening audiences are more willing to judge music on it's merits and appreciate it for what it is.

So, the moral of todays story, kids, is not to dismiss a new way of doing something because 'new' doesn't mean 'bad' in most things. I didn't actually mean for this post to go on so long but there you are. Since it would appear I do actually have some readers (yay!) it would be quite nice to get feedback on whether or not you enjoy my ramblings, so leave a comment if you've enjoyed it and leave one too if you thought it was just a load of old cobblers.

Listening to: Slam - Alien Radio

Kate Moss? No thanks, I prefer Charlotte Church.

2007-02-19T21:11:00.000Z

There's been a lot of fuss about size zero models recently (well, American size zero - thats a UK size four but I suppose that doesn't sound as good in a headline) and the organisers of the Madrid Fashion Week banned size zero (or unhealthily thin at any rate) models from their catwalks last year and this year's Milan fashion week is seeing many fewer size zero models. About time too. These really skinny models just look hideous. Why starve yourself to a medically unsafe weight when all it does is make you look like a crack head who's one bong away from croaking? You can see the ribs and spine on some of these girls and that's about as attractive as the Black Death in my view. Honestly, I've seen more meat on a skeleton.

And it seems that I'm not alone. Sure, there are chaps out there who like that sort of thing, but I reckon the vast majority prefer girls to have a bit of flesh on them. This is borne out to some degree by a poll carried out, bizarrely, by Fox's Biscuits to find who people rated as the most naturally beautiful. Top of the list was Kate Middleton, current Squeeze of second in line to the throne, Prince William followed by Charlotte Church who is still being boffed by that lucky git pretty boy and Welsh inside centre, Gavin Henson.

That's all as it should be, two stunning girls with great figures at the top. But at number four is the uber stick herself and known associate of oxygen-thief Pete Doherty, Kate Moss. What? The woman is painfully thin and looks like she'd snap in a stiff breeze. She needs to eat something, badly. Most of the rest of the top 10 is also good (Catherine Zeta Jones, Scarlett Johansson, Beyonce, and Keira Knightly who, although a bit thin at times, is naturally so rather than looking like a famine victim). But squeaking in at number 10 is the utterly hideous Victoria 'Posh' Beckham. What the hell? This woman is utterly, utterly repugnant. What on earth is she doing in that list? I suppose it goes to show that some people like the skinny look, but judging by the rest of the list, most people prefer women to have curves.

And that's the crux of it, I reckon. Curves. If I see an attractive woman with curves, I can't help but look and admire. It's not about having huge baps or 'booty' as the kids call a nicely shaped bum these days, but about being womanly, beautiful and proud of it. That is such a huge turn-on for most guys and they would much rather have that than women starving themselves for some perceived improvement in attractiveness or, in the case of models, saleability.

As for me, well, my list would certainly include Charlotte Church but also Renee Zellweger as Bridget Jones, Violet Berlin and Kate Sliverton. I like curvy women and fortunately, there seem to still be plenty of women who have a firm hold of reality and a sense of perspective in life and don't try and alter their body shape to the possible detriment of their health. And long may it continue.

Listening to: Foo Fighters - Skin and Bones

My god, he's got...space dementia!

2007-02-17T23:34:00.000Z

You know, sometimes I think about the possibility of an asteroid hitting earth and killing us all (cue any number of disaster movies) and I conclude that we're pretty much doomed should a near earth object (NEO) end up being so near that it's touching us in a quite terminal way. But fear not! The Association of Space Explorers (no, really) has come up with a proposal to create a plan (organised by the UN, an outfit who would struggle to sit on a toilet the right way round) to save us in the event of a giant asteroid heading our way.

I feel so much better.

Logical reasoning? No thanks, I've got religion!

2007-02-17T21:21:00.000Z

Ever wondered exactly what the difference is between science and religion? Well, here it is in flowchart form. Don't you just love dogma?

Geek alert

2007-02-17T11:49:00.000Z

I'm going to go all geeky on you for a minute or two. If you aren't even remotely interested in technology, then look away now.

An article in Slashdot caught my eye claiming that in the past five years, server power consumption in th US has doubled. At first, I thought they meant each server had doubled it's usage but it seems that what they mean is that overall consumption by servers in the US has risen from 0.6% of consumed electricity in 2000 to 1.2% in 2005. This is attributed to all sorts of things including the rise of the Blade centre.

But, from experience, it seems that Blades often replace old, inefficient servers and are capable of doing more on a per-unit basis which means that in a fair comparison of, say, productivity per watt consumed, the new systems win out for efficiency. On top of this, many organisations are installing large server farms but then getting rid of traditional desktops for users and replacing them with thin client terminals and Citrix environments on those shiny new Blade farms. I would be interested to see what the power consumption difference is between the two models but I'll be willing to wager that it is lower with the thin client/server farm option than having all those desktops sitting about the place.

As a result, this article seems a little disingenuous. I would be very interested to see if there have been any comparative studies done between the two models mentioned above and the efficiency of new vs old servers to see if the headline rise in consumption is automatically a bad thing or if we're actually reducing overall consumption per user by increasing our server farm sizes.

Run Forrest, run!

2007-02-15T21:17:00.000Z

Last week, I was overcome by a strange and irresistible urge to go for a run. Now, this was odd on more than one front. For a start, I'm a bit of a lard bag if I'm being honest. Obviously, running would be a good thing to help shift some of that flab which would be doubly handy as I seem to have agreed to take part in a 12 hour mountain bike XC enduro race (as part of a team of 8) at this years Bristol Bike Fest. So being a chubber is not, in itself, a problem although the reason I am currently carrying some excess pie, as my mate Chris who's from Yorkshire would put it, is because I'm basically lazy. I have a desk job and when I get home I like to do very little. Yes, I occasionally go out on the bike at weekends, something else which will have to increase in frequency over the coming months, but exercise and I are long lost acquaintances.

In my youth, I lived in the Fens and cycled everywhere. At 6th form college, I used to go to the gym three times a week too and even at university, where my full time smoking really took off, my second year was almost entirely devoted to Kung Fu sessions which probably explains my lack of academic achievement that year. But after that, it all melted away and I got porkier and lazier.

I gave up the fags over a year ago now (not that it feels like it sometimes) but recently I hit my heaviest ever weight. Despite me saying I'm a lard bag, I'm not some morbidly obese blob, but I do have a bit of a gut. I got to 16 stone (although bear in mind, I'm 6 foot 1 and have a broad build so it's not as bad as it seems) and I realised something must be done. I'm fluctuating a bit now so it's been at the back of my mind to get off my arse and do something. Which brings me back to this running malarkey.

I never liked it. Even when I was fit, and I tried running I didn't like it. So why the hell do I now have this urge to run? For years I have taken the piss out of runners safe in the knowledge that they were as mad as a bag of badgers and now I find myself as one of them, pounding along the pavement, lungs on fire and muscles screaming in protest. Things is, I got the urge again today (must be a Thursday thing as it was Thursday last week too) and I went again. And I'm planning to go more and more. Worse still, I timed myself last week and this week, and was gratified to note that I was a whole 2 minutes quicker. In fairness, this was entirely due to me slowing to a walk when I ran out of steam rather than just stopping as I did last week, but I still felt a frisson of pleasure in beating last weeks time and I'm quite enjoying it, once I've stopped feeling like I'm going to die.

I had best admit that my run is not very long (a less-than-impressive 0.89 miles according to mapmyrun) but then I'm quite unfit so I figure I'd best start small and when I can comfortably run that without stopping I can start to increase the length a bit and build it up. But still, I have spontaneously begun to be a bit more healthy and I wonder if this is just me growing up a bit. I'll be 32 this year but I never really think of myself as being that age. In my head I'm still a young lad (early 20's I suppose) in many ways. Not the going-out-on-the-rage-every-night way, but then maybe it's more a symptom of being the youngest sibling by 4 years that I've never seen myself as a proper responsible adult although I suppose I am just that.

Well, I just hope it lasts because I'm definitely going to need to get fit for the Bike Fest, but that's another story altogether.

Listening to: Classic Euphoria Disc 1

Doctor who?

2007-02-13T19:31:00.000Z

The abomination formerly know as 'Dr' Gillian McKeith has been told by the Advertising Standards Agency here in the UK that she must stop using the title Dr as it is misleading. Brilliant! Common sense prevails!

For those of you not in the know, this hideous woman (apparently referred to in medical circles as 'The Awful Poo Lady' - all will become clear) has made a very large pile of cash punting alleged health foods, potions, lotions and powders along side lucrative book and TV deals. Just how much of the health food products are snake oil is probably a question for debate on it's own, but it's her idiotic claims and utter babble which she tries to pass of as science, along side the use of the title doctor which really annoyed on regular reader of badscience enough to do something about it. It would seem her doctorate came from a correspondence course in America and carries no accreditation over here. She plays on this by wearing a lab coat and poncing about in what appears to be a lab on her Channel 4 TV show "You Are What You Eat" whereby she visits some terrible lard ass and takes a sample of their poo which she pokes about in on the telly (not something you want on at tea time) and then berates them for eating kebabs.

Now, you might think "What's wrong with that? Surely any prod given to fat bags to stop them eating themselves into an early grave and draining the NHS is a good thing?". Well, yes it is, but the nonsense this woman spouts under the pretence of science is frightening. I won't go over it here as there is an excellent article on badscience which lists a number of the inanities that have issued from her trap like the malodorous turds she likes to play with. Suffice to say that, as noted in the article, she seems to have failed to grasp the concepts of basic pre-GCSE level biology entirely. It is pap of the highest order and will be instantly recognisable to readers of New Scientists Last Word column as the kind of thing which deserves to be publicly derided lest anyone who might be a touch naive is taken in by it and believes it to be the truth. And there are plenty who would believe her because she calls herself Dr and wears a lab coat, mores the pity.

So, good on the ASA for upholding the complaint and delivering a well-aimed kick in the cobblers to another tranche of the moronic pseudo-celebrity mumbo-jumbo which pollutes our media. Goodbye 'Dr' McKeith - you won't be missed.

Listening to: eels - Beautiful Freak

And now for something completely different...

2007-02-10T23:09:00.000Z

Well not really. This is just filler until I write something worthwhile (playing a poker tournament or two tomorrow so you never know I must just rant about that). OK Go, one of my current top listens, are getting a rep for minimalist but inventive self-directed videos for their songs and this one (for the single Invincible) is no exception. You may well have seen the others as they did the rounds last year (they're on Youtube and I highly recommend taking a peek if you haven't seen them).

I'll donate, but by my decision...

2007-01-31T21:21:00.000Z

Earlier today, I saw a post on a forum regarding a petition being raised using the UK government's new online petition system (and there have been others using alternative online petition systems), which calls for the system of organ donation in the UK to be changed to an 'opt out' system. Essentially, this would be a system whereby you are automatically added to the organ donor register when you turn 18 and you would have to actively remove yourself from it if you objected.

My first reaction was "no way". Now, I did think about this; I have been on the organ donation register ever since I was 18 and would hope that even if I hadn't, my reasonably enlightened family would, should the worst happen to me, donate my wobbly bits so that someone else might benefit (we have enough medics in the family that it is a dead cert they would do so). So why did I immediately find the idea objectionable? Was it because opt out schemes inherently remove some control over your decisions? Was it because this would be offensive to many religious groups (not that I share their views as I am an atheist but thats no reason to deliberately offend them)? Was it because I don't like the idea that someone else makes a hugely important decision on my behalf without my consent and I then have to reverse it?

In truth, it was a little of all of these. At the risk of trvialising the issue, I would draw a very loose parallel with those irritating tick boxes that appear on more or less every order form or registration form on the net which have a statement next to them declaring that you either do or do not wish to have crap sent to you by every possible communication method. There has been some attempt to make these easier to understand by requiring them to NOT use confusing language and not opting you in by default to these odious marketing campaigns (with limited success as half the time you tick one box to opt out of one things and tick another to opt into something else but you tick or un-tick both and end up with crap no matter what you do unless you pay attention). This is a pretty trivial thing in the grand scheme of life, yet the government has tried to stop these schemes being an opt out system and make them opt in, so why would something so important and potentially contentious as organ donation be made opt out? The decision to become an organ donor is incredibly personal and is not something that should be assumed by society on your behalf because society believes it knows best.

I fully agree that awareness of the organ donation system needs to be raised to encourage people to register. The public should also be made aware of the need to inform their family of their registration to avoid possible problems should the worst happen to them. But to petition for a system whereby an intensely personal decision is taken away from people? Sorry, but I just can't support that.

Listening to: Nick Drake - Five Leaves Left