Not The Swimming Kind...

Celebrity Spotting In London #2

2007-06-03T15:57:00.000Z

I'm not a man of the people. My tastes are better than yours and this is reflected by the fact that I don't associate with the hoi polloi. They're not good enough for me. Oh no. Instead, I only keep company with the rich and famous. As noted below, myself and Howard Moon are best buddies. We hang out all the time, get drunk on tequila slammers and lech over nubile young women.

My other, completely famous and completely better than you, friend is Bill Bailey. He lives just down the street from me and we often, 'accidentally', bump into each other in the street. There we have a pleasant discourse on many a varied things and then we part. I often ruffle the hair of his small child and say some reassuring things whilst playfully punching his shoulder. Thus, our lives our enriched and all contributes to making me much better than you.

Overheard workplace conversation #1

2007-05-29T12:30:00.001Z

Person who seemingly talks for 9 hours straight: “I’ve often thought about fostering. There’s good money in that you know”.

I believe that this is the exact sentiment that the foster services are looking for.

My Shameful Romance

2007-05-20T20:19:00.000Z

I have a terrible, life-shattering confession. What makes it even worse, should such a thing be possible, is that it proves Ellie correct. I laughed at her words of wisdom first uttered many moons ago. I mocked, poured scorn from a great height all over her and revelled in my quite evident superiority. Allegedly, I may have been wrong. So, for the record, and for posterity,

My Chemical Romance are actually rather quite good.

There. I've said it. I've even started to admit it in public. It's quite liberating to get it off of my chest. My only problem comes in trying to justify this assertion to others. The way I see it is that if one can forget the stereotype (Yes, I know, who'd've thought that people deal in unsupported hearsay and mock and despise things because they feel they should? God forbid they should listen to something and then make a considered judgement) then MCR are good at what they are peddling: easy-on-the-ear, perky pop-rock with a bit of a sense of humour. More importantly, they also love to embrace the grandiose and over-the-top. Forget the imagery of the Black Parade, the badly dyed hair and the legion of 15 year-old girls in black eyeliner who make up the MCArmy and listen to the catchy, catchy music. My personal favourite from the latest album is Sleep, but for the uninitiated here's I'm Not Okay.

However, all is not lost. Whilst falling head over heels for Gerard et al. I was pointed in the direction of Ziltoid The Omniscient. It seems that Devin Townsend is not really happy sat at home playing with his new sprog all day and that he needs something to do now that he's seemingly officially disbanded SYL so he's filling his days with Ziltoid. And that can only be a good thing.

A celebrated man amongst the guerneys

2007-05-14T16:22:00.000Z

Perhaps my railing against Brook Street was a little premature – they are not the devil incarnate and they do not gain pleasure from my frustration. In fact, they are terribly helpful and have been frightfully proactive in getting me a job. They are so damn good that I was only out of work for 4 days. To me, that is a miraculously short amount of time as I had visions of spending the best part of 6 weeks lazing around the flat in my undercrackers playing computer games. I'm not saying that these were bad visions, but I still had them.

What is my new, fancy temp job, I hear you all roar? Well, I'm a clerical administrator in the NHS. The title is not quite as grand as my previous one - Business Analyst - but then again this time I am a mere data-entry chap. No real responsibility and no real difficulty in what I do. Referrals are sent from all manner of people and I check to see if the patient is on the system and then make a referral for them. If they aren't on the system, I then have to register them. Despite the lack of challenge, I'm enjoying it as the people I work with are a lot of fun and I do get a great sense of satisfaction from being a part of the NHS. I like to think that I'm only one level below doctors on the 'important scale'. In fact I'm often asked, at very short notice, to take over particularly complex operations when surgeons pop to the toilet. I don't charge for it – that would just be mercenary.

Oiseau-cide

2007-05-07T12:37:00.000Z

I like to think that I’m patient, godly and generally better than anyone else - I have more time than others for the needy and for all of God’s little creatures. However, let’s be honest: I’m a small, petty, occasionally violent man. And what is at the root of my impotent rage? A sodding bird. A little, brown, beaky, chirping bird. And by god does that bird make a racket. None bastard stop. It regularly wakes me up at 6.30am and only stops at the precise moment when I get out of bed to make breakfast. It’s like it is watching me.

To make matters worse, this so-called bird is a master of disguise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it. I peer menacingly out of the window, ready to give my tormentor a foul glare, and it’s not there. How can I kill something that I can’t see? There is a neighbourhood cat, but it’s a fat bugger and is more interested in lazing in the sun than catching dinner.

So, in the vague hope that the bird is an avid reader of my blog, I give in. You’ve won. Congratulations. Now please stop. I’m out of the house pretty much all day so you can tweet and twitter all you want then. You could even start at 7.30am, but please, not before. I’ll even kill that cat for you to prove my fealty. Just please stop.

Temp Agencies and Megadeth

2007-05-03T07:43:00.000Z

A likely combination, no doubt about it. What prompted Megadeth's inclusion in this post and promotion to title - an honour not to be taken lightly - is that I've just witnessed something terrible. The 'Deth have a new album, called United Abominations, coming out soon and for some unknown reason they've decided to include on it A Tout Le Monde. Despite the fact that they originally put the song out a good 13 years ago, they have (well, Dave has) seen fit to re-record it with t'old Scabbia from Lacuna Coil. I'm not terribly impressed. Moreover, I was under the impression that Lacuna Coil were Italian, but Scabbia's accent is thoroughly American. It would be unfair to blame her change in voice on Dave Mustaine, but hell, he seems to be responsible for all the ills in the world, and by that I mean he left/was kicked out of Metallica and that set off a chain of events that culminated in the fall of Communism and the War on Terror, but I'm going to place this at Dave's door. Look how he trembles! However, I must admit that I do like the new guitar solo. But I am a bit of a sucker for them.

And on to more important, material matters: Temp agencies. Here I was, ready to wax lyrical about how wrong my friends were, that they were not connected to Hell or Satan in anyway, and BAM! I'm disappointed. I suppose I should have expected it - I imagine that when evil tempts people, it gets their hopes up and then dashes them right at the last minute. But I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened was that they'd arranged an interview for me yesterday morning at 10am. The job would not have set the world on fire but it was for a decent length of time and would've paid me a fair whack of cash. So I turn up in my (only) suit, nice and early, introduce myself and sit down in the waiting area when, lo and behold!, I get a 'phone call from the temp agency telling me that the company in question, Adam Phones, had promoted from within and that they'd cancelled all interviews. Great. Now whether the blame lies with Adam Phones or the temp agency I know not, but I'm going to blame both of them. That way no one escapes the damning effects of my glower.

That was yesterday. Today, I'm going to more temp agencies and beg for work. In theory this should be easy as I'm willing to do pretty much anything in an office. I'd even be the fitty who's employed solely because they're easy on the eye and has to spend every day being leered over by fat, middle-aged men. I can do that. I'll even flutter my very long eye-lashes at them. Dammit, they could even smack my ass as I walked by as long as they did it with a cheeky grin.

Oh dear, what have I become?

The wandering wanderer returns...

2007-05-01T12:59:00.000Z

It's been a while. Probably over two months. But I've returned. Like a once victorious warrior returning to the scene of his greatest battle to relive former glories and reassure himself that he can hit such majestic heights again, I'm back on t'internet.

More importantly, I'm jobless.

At the moment, there is nothing lined up between now and September and this is worrying because now I've moved into a new flat I have a proper amount of rent to pay as well as these things called 'bills', which seem to crop up with increasing regularity. To remedy being made homeless, I'm soon to be debasing myself at the feet of Recruitment Agencies. People who are more experienced in their ways than I tell me that their employees are the devil made flesh and the their buildings are sin made stone. I'm slightly more optimistic than that given my naturally cheery disposition but no doubt I shall soon be lamenting their in ability to get the (four month) job of my dreams.

Come September, touch wood, I will begin what can legitimately be termed a career. If I manage to keep blogging between now and then - and the likelihood of that is directly related to 1) how long I stay unemployed for 2) whether the place I end up working at has the Internet and 3) whether or not I can get away with blogging at work - that'll be a bonus. When I start my 'proper' job (I feel so snooty yet so pleased to call it that) I will almost definitely stop blogging. My job will invariably become my life and to write about no doubt very private and very confidential information will result in being fired. I don't want to that.

So, on that bombshell I'm off! Till next time, 'loyal' readers (my mum and random passers-by). Oh, one final thing, the eagle-eyed among you may have noticed that I've added a little gamercard thingy to the left. So, if anyone else happens to be on Xbox live, add me. I'm online a lot more these days and I've only one friend at the moment. If it stays this way, my bitter tears will cause my 360 to short-circuit and no one wants that.

Celebrity Spotting In London

2007-02-16T19:04:00.000Z

Oh yes. I'm basking in the bright lights in the place where the streets are paved with gold by the power of association. Someone might have seen me today on the Northern Line (Angel Tube station, southbound platform) stood in the same vicinity as Howard Moon! Well, I saw him swagger down the platform towards a very full train. And swagger he did! Chest puffed out, legs slightly apart and with a knowing look on his face. It was actually him. He did look a little drunk, but I didn't go up to him and smell his breath or anything. I also, desperately, tried to think of a Mighty Boosh related comment that I could shout out in a witty manner. The best I could think of was

"The first 40 mins of your live DVD is shit! Then it gets mildly better"

But I didn't, because I'm kind and because I wasn't sure how sober he was and how he'd react. He did look a bit like a tramp, although I suppose that's the general look that Howard Moon goes for. Nice clothes with an unkempt face.

As if that wasn't enough, I've had even more excitement this week - I went to an all-day assessment centre on Thursday (I'll reveal more when I know how unsuccessful I've been) and today I went to the Good Impressions conference at the British Museum. Yes, it's about medieval seals and yes, I'm no longer in any way related to academia, but it was good fun and interesting to see what other people doing in the field of sigillography (honest!).

Deep Space Homer

2007-02-09T22:22:00.000Z

Default might be the two sweetest words in the English language according to Homer - and I'm not sure that I'd disagree with him - but I reckon tax rebate ranks pretty highly as well. An unexpected boost to the old weekly wage certainly makes me happy.

Almost a month in London

2007-02-05T20:45:00.000Z

And it has, literally and figuratively, flown by. I'm now settled into my temp job - which carries the rather high-falutin' title of Business Analyst of Corporate Finance - and am continually astounded by the level of organisational incompetency that surrounds me. Don't get me wrong, the people I work for are lovely, lovely individuals, but don't seem too hot on the old 'explain what to do' side of things. So I'm briefly told what to do, and generally it's amazingly straight forward, so I do it. I then found out that I've made a mistake because I've not done something that they didn't tell me so I didn't know to do it. Ace. It just ends up wasting my time and theirs.

More impressively, I've been applying for lots (read not that many) jobs. This is good, apart from the fact that if I get through the online application stage, I imagine most of them will want face-to-face interviews before they pay me money. That means I'll have to show my knowledge of the company and the service line I'm applying for, and I don't really know how to do that. I mean, I can look at the company's website until I'm blue in the face but I don't know how to go that extra yard. Does any one have any sage advice? If you do, and it results in me getting a job, a drink shall be yours! Several, in fact. Cannot say fairer than that.

Right, I'm going to return to the tired predictability of my day. At this time of night it usually involves making sandwiches for lunch time and ironing a shirt so I'm not forced to sit topless in the office. Many of the women where I work do cat-call and beg me to remove my clothes and reveal my rippling, buffed, hairless and tanned torso, but I resist. Were I to reveal 'the pecs of all wonderfulness' then no one would get any work done, and we don't want that to happen. I save that for Friday evenings in the local Wetherspoons.

Conspiracy Theory #457

2007-01-13T20:37:00.001Z

Did Jelle Klaasen, Vincent van der Voort and Michael van Gerwen deliberately play pants so they could speed up their transition to the PDC? This crazy theory is bolstered by the fact that it was in the players' contracts that this year's semi-finalists had to come back to the BDO in 2008.

I really don't think they played rubbish on purpose but the thought of the PDC must've been a spectre looming in the background, gnawing away at their tungsten. To be honest, I've no real idea why I support the BDO over the PDC. It's probably because it's only the BDO tournament that's on terrestrial TV and it's not at the beck and call of Stan James and other advertisers. But those advertisers bring money and the money, ultimately, has 'made' Barneveld and the other Dutch chaps to swap sides.

What I want is for the stupid divide to end, so all the super-best darts players in the world can play against each other and provide completely spanking entertainment for everyone. Maybe that could be achieved if it became an Olympic sport. Laughably, I reckon that that is less of a pipe-dream that a PDC-BDO unification.

My first week in London

2007-01-13T20:37:00.000Z

Well, I'm coming to the end of my first week in London. Possibly surprisingly, it's been rather good. Work's been lined up for next week, with the potential of it lasting until the end of March, and the open day at Coutts was very useful if a little dull. To top things off, we're nicking wireless broadband off of the neighbours. Excellent. That's the only thing that free however. London is as prohibitively expensive as you think it is - apart from a dwindling bank balance, I've little to no material goods to show for my profligacy.

I probably shouldn't say too much about the job I'll be doing as I've had to go through stringent security checks just to get it. No doubt it won't be as exciting as it all sounds, but I can pretend that I'm dealing with matters that are of international importance. And if you read in the news that world is coming to an end, you can bet that I'll be responsible for it.

The people at Coutts are wonderful at selling themselves. I really want that job now, and not just because of the quite impressive starting salary. All that stands in my way is an intimidating assessment day in the middle of February. Hopefully, that'll be one of many as I've now finally got around to applying to lots of graduate jobs. I've thoroughly realistic expectations and don't believe that I'll get all/any of them, but I feel a lot better for actually having done something about my lack of career.

The Big Smoke

2007-01-05T19:22:00.000Z

That's my destination tomorrow. It's a little nerve-wracking, moving to London with not much money and no job, but it'll be an experience. Hopefully one that leave me with scars, mental or physical. I'm working on the assumption that it'll be easier to get a job in London with a London address than without a London address (if that makes any sense) and that I'll be super-motivated to get me some gainful employment when the result of not working is living on the streets. Super.

An upside of the move is that my blog should no longer to be home to incessant posts about computer games. Instead, I can carry on whining about jobs, the cost of living, the people, the weather, the gangland violence, the tube, terrorists, racists, government, NGOs, the Daily Mail &c. Loads of stuff. The world is my oyster! Preferably sans grit. I don't know how much access to t'old Internet I'll have in London Taan - I believe that's how its pronounced - so posting may be sporadic. Then again it may not be. In fact, I'll probably post on Thursday documenting my Open Day with a banking firm and telling all how it was scary and that I asked lots of stupid questions ('What do bankers do?'). So, hold tight, don't move, cross your legs and be ready for Thursday.

Hopefully.

Comedy Gold, courtesy of Shane Warne:

2007-01-04T19:05:00.000Z

In response to t'old Collingwood bantering away, Warne hits back with

You got an MBE, right? For scoring seven at the Oval?

The look on Collingwood's face was priceless. He had no response and looked thoroughly embarrassed. Well done Warney!

Update 21.08: Some more sledging by Warne directed again at Collingwood.

Oh yes, before I forget...

2006-12-30T17:39:00.000Z

For those interested, I had a lovely Christmas and the wedding I went was very nice indeed. Those adjectives are pretty bland and don't do justice to the two events and for that I apologise. For those who have the privilege of being my friend on Facebook you can see pictures from the wedding on Ellie's profile.

Two posts in 10mins? It'll make me feel better when I don't post for 3 months.

See-Ya! Again.

2006-12-30T17:19:00.000Z

Has a year flown by already? My word! I even managed to miss my blog's birthday which made it an understandably grumpy so-and-so. Still, my forgetfulness aside, let us turn to the important things in life - those who have died. Let us celebrate their deaths in list form and then let us mock those who haven't died by suggesting that they should have. Much like I did last year.

The Internet, being the best thing ever behind Tournedos Rossini and Gin and computer games and other things and people, makes this process quite easy. In fact, it makes it terribly easy. Look: click on this link and you can see the deaths that the people who write Wikipedia have deemed worthy enough to mention and chronicle. And we shouldn't argue with them because eventually they will take over the world as that website will become our only information source. Don't scoff at me! It's true. All the children and undergraduates of the world are using Wikipedia to do their homework and essays. IT'S ALL WE KNOW!

Even b3ta have got in on the act by creating an image challenge to suggest who should die in 2007. That's almost like me suggested who should've died in 2006.

Where do I go from here? Should I carry on and turn this into a yearly thing? Part of me says, resoundingly, 'NO!'. That's the lazy side of me. Even the much repressed energetic side is apathetic. So, in honour and deference to me and my sides, here's a truncated list that's based on little thought:

Deaths:

James Brown
Saddam Hussein (He'[wa]s not he Messiah, he'[wa]s a very naughty boy. I can see the t-shirts now.)
Steve Irwin

Should Be Dead:

Pete Doherty - the reasons for this are evident. Basically, I don't like him and his junkie ways and he gets to knob an internationally famous model. When I'm high on intravenous drugs, I only get arrested for beating up people for their money. When he gets arrested, he gets let off!

There we go. Get your mutton chops around that. I'm off to drink orange squash and eat steak.

The Price of (a) Wii

2006-12-19T15:48:00.000Z

Thankfully, the store at which I work isn't really like the one above although this has been the case when discussing the Wii. I'd imagine that something ridiculous like 60% of the phonecalls over the past 3 weeks have involved me telling people that if they've not pre-orderd then it's highly unlikely that they'll be able to get one from us. And because of this insatiable desire for this year's must-have Christmas present (if it's not the Wii then it's the (preferably pink) DS - either way Nintendo are quids in) we can basically charge what we like for it. To make matters worse, we get away with it as well.

I don't particularly like the fact that we're forcing people to buy deals that, under normal circumstances, they would not choose themselves. So I try to sympathise with them and admit that the prices are a little steep but that this is their only chance of picking one up for little Timmy or Samantha (or whatever their kids are called) before Christmas. This last point might well be a falsehood, but most people aren't willing to turn down the ones we have in order to try and find a better deal elsewhere. But I still toe the company line and spout all the wonderful sales-pitch guff that I have to spout so that we, as a business, can make a profit and that they can reward us with a Christmas bonus of £7! Take that you City workers you!

What are the prices I hear you ask? Any other time of the year, and assuming that there is plentiful stock, the console ships with Wii Sports for £179.99. Our first, and cheapest deal, was £369.97 and for that you received the Console, the aforementioned Wii Sports, Rayman Raving Rabbids, Super Monkey Ball, Monster 4x4 World Circuit, a 1 gig memory card and some sports accessory things - a tennis racket, golf club and steering wheel into which one could fit the Wiimote. The next, and last, deal was a whopping £429.99 and for that you could choose any 5 games you wanted with the console and Wii Sports and there may even have been a 1 gig memory card thrown in with it.

Those were the only two bundles on offer.

The lesson from all of this, if indeed there is one, is try to pre-order early with a reputable firm. And by that I mean a company that specialises in computer games if a computer games console is what you're after. For example, Nintendo have a much better relationship with Game than they do with Woolworths or PC World, so it's not too much of a surprise when the latter ring you up on the 19th December to tell you that you'll not be getting a Wii in time for Christmas (a terribly sad story told to me today by a man on the phone). Moreover, pre-order two and flog one on eBay. That'll pay for the rest of your Crimbo pressies!

Update 23/12/06: Reading this post again, I've realised a mistake - I'm pretty sure that in the above deals one would also receive an extra Wiimote but not a nunchuk. Moreover, and more importantly, the lesson, which I failed to state properly, was that if you want to avoid being ripped off and being forced to pay through the nose, pre-order. Glad that's cleared up.

I'm so sorry...

2006-12-14T10:31:00.000Z

The risk of Aids can be halved by circumcision according to a recent, groundbreaking study.

The head of the WHO's Aids/HIV department? Kevin De Cock.

A Prize For Me!

2006-12-09T15:55:00.000Z

Yesterday's Wii launch went very well indeed, mainly because the 129 consoles we had in were only for those who had pre-ordered. Thus, there were no real problems and no crush when we opened the shop. That's not to say that we (Wii?) were not busy. Quite the contrary. But it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

In order to make things a little more exciting, there was a little competition in store among the staff with the winner receiving a prize (unfortunately with little ceremony). The big question was how much money would the store take pre-tax. Yours truly was the first to step up to the plate and BANG! knocked it out of the stadium! A mere 10 hours after guessing (we opened at 7am so I got there at 6.30) I was within £200 of the actual figure and I was the victor! Woo! My guess, for those interested, was £38,500. The reward for my outstanding slice of luck was a promo copy of Tony Hawk's Project 8, something I've wanted to play for a while but haven't wanted to fork out cash for.

A guilty pleasure follows: I also picked up Viva Pinata. Those animals are just far too cute for their own good and, thankfully, the gameplay is surprisingly deep. I don't really need a job for the next 8 months. I could just do with finding a way to get someone to pay me to play computer games. Game almost do it, but not quite.

Video of Jordan - makes me all hot and sweaty

2006-11-30T11:50:00.000Z

No, not that Jordan!

Guitar Hero 2 was released on Friday (24th) and all the reviews, apart from saying what a wonderful and well thought out sequel it is, have commented on the increased difficulty. And boy they're not lying. To honest, I was slightly underwhelmed by Misirlou and Psychobilly Freakout. Yes, they're difficult to 5* but I 3*'d 'em first time on Expert. Institutionalised, Hangar 18 and Free Bird, on the other hand, are disgustingly difficult. And yet there are people who waltz on through them without even starting to suffer from tendonitis.

I thought that Jordan would be a different. It's insane. I'm not actually sure that the guitar solo is playable. Even when taken to the practice room and slowed all the way down. But no, people obviously have bionic fingers. Still the fact that the chaps at Score Hero haven't topped 88% pleases me. It proves that the song is indeed completely mental. I wouldn't expect anything less from Buckethead.

The above video is by quackadilly. He deserves credit for this noble attempt.

Telephone Interviews

2006-11-28T09:55:00.000Z

Argh! I must've used the same example about 6 times in my recent (i.e. 10 mins ago) telephone interview. They must think I'm something of a 'tard. The depressing thing is, the example used was the most pertinent one. Well, I'll know for the future what type of questions to prepare for (I'm sure I said that after my last telephone interview):

Give me an example of a time where you've provided several solutions to a problem?
Give me an example of a time when there was no immediate solution to a problem?
Tell me about a time where you've set high standards for yourself?
How did you meet those high standards?
Tell me about a time when you invested a considerable amount of time into a achieving a goal.

&c. &c.

Still, I shouldn't complain because if the stars are aligned correctly and I do managed to snare me a job, I'll look back with fond memories on my superb and perfectly relevant answers.

My Glamorous Life

2006-11-23T12:32:00.000Z

Oh yes! Those who think that my working days are devoid of celebrities are completely wrong. Only the other day Toby Foster walked into Game, had a shufty at our wares and promptly bought nothing. I was tempted to shout

Tarn! Tarn! I was supposed to see you at Leeds 2003 but you weren't on and no-one said why and we sat and watched this other comic who was terrible and it was all a bit disappointing really. Tarn! I thought you were really funny/good in Phoenix Nights and Max & Paddy's Road to Nowhere.

But I didn't. Because I was working and it would've been unprofessional. I also think that Toby Foster might not have been too pleased either.

Transparent Government.

2006-11-21T10:28:00.000Z

The local election did take place on Thursday and thankfully it wasn't a ruse to kidnap me. However, for a while I was worried. Especially as I couldn't find out the result. Seriously. Scoured the Internet and the Barnsley Council website to no avail so I did what any person in their right mind does: sent off a slightly arsey/angry email lamenting the fact that there wasn't a link on the front of the webpage to the election results.

They responded very promptly but only provided solution to one of my problems. I know now the result - Labour pipped the independent candidate 615 to 510 and, shock horror, BNP romped home in third place with 310 votes. But that still leaves the issue of not being able to reach the result through the Barnsley Council website. There are pages that claim that they might show the election result but they fail to load every time I try to look at them. Hmmm.

Local Politics

2006-11-14T10:36:00.000Z

It's been nigh on four years since I studied practical politics (i.e. not political theory) and thus four years since I knew what was really going on. But even I, with my head buried in computer games, have not failed to miss all the political leaflets being posted through the letterbox. That's right - it's local election time! At least, I think it is. I can't seem to find anything about it on the Barnsley Council website. I'm probably just being blind.

But anyway, I'm being asked to vote this Thursday (that or these leaflets are just part of some elaborate ruse to get me to go to the local polling station and then abduct me for nefarious purposes) and who do I vote for? Normally, I consult the bumf, tally up the spelling mistakes and then look deep into my conscience. More often than not, I arrive at a workable conclusion. Much the same process will take place this time, except that all the candidates seem to be saying the same things.

They're all a bit pissed off about a local school becoming an academy, especially because its sponsor is United Learning Trust which is a

subsidiary charity of the not-for-profit charity, the United Church Schools Trust (UCST) and shares with it the objective of managing schools which offer students a high quality education based on Christian principles of service and tolerance.

Sinister indeed. People are also generally annoyed about the decline in the bus service, the fact that we in Barnsley, apparently, pay the most and get the least and that the housing situation is a shambles. These seems to be the main bugbears for the main parties - Labour, Respect, the BNP and the Liberals. Actually, that's a falsehood, the Liberal candidate is more interested in 'Axe(ing) the (Council) Tax' and reforming pensions.

The interesting point in all this is who they blame for the mess. The Labour candidate kinda blames Labour but points out that she is good Labour and isn't beholden the traitorous bastards in Whitehall (or something like that) glossing over the fact that they are the ones who fund local government and all that malarky. The Liberals blame Labour and the Tories whilst Respect blame...Labour. To make a pleasant but a rather very nasty change, the BNP blames JOHNNY FORGEIGNER!!! Terrible people that they are, taking our jobs and our women.

Seeing as I don't have my finger on the pulse of local politics at all, I'll make a prediction about the result - it'll be between Labour and Respect and I think that Labour might just win it. Let's see how catastrophically wrong I can be!

Guitar Hero - more difficult than the real thing?

2006-11-05T11:57:00.000Z

Well, maybe not quite but it is damn difficult. Trying to romp through songs on hard, let alone expert, results in embarrassment and the 'Song Failed' screen. Still, I'm persevering and am determined to nail both Cowboys From Hell and Bark At The Moon. Gamespot have posted a review of Guitar Hero II and I'm scared by the fact that it's supposed to be even more difficult than the first one. But that's fine, because Freebird is there in its majestic entirety and it has Trogdor, as made famous by Strongbad.

The big question, however, is whether to purchase the PS2 version when it comes out on the 24th November or to wait until the New Year (date as of yet unspecified) for the 360 version. The 360 controller is much, much cooler than the PS2 one but if I can force myself to wait I'll get to play with my friends and have guitar duels to the death. And, of course, there's the possibility of downloadable content and all that malarky.

Or I could get a Wii as well. They are looking pretty nifty and the Manager and Deputy Manager at Game insisted that when they played the Wii it was the most fun they've had in ages. That's the problem working in Game. I'm surrounded by glittering lovely things that I want sooooo much but cannot really afford. Especially not on the minimum wage that I'm earning. I really do lead the hardest of lives.

Pro Evo 6. Anger rising...

2006-10-31T10:56:00.000Z

You think I'd be more concerned about the fact that we need to take drastic action in order to minimise the impact of climate change, which is pretty much because of us, but no.

A man came into Game yesterday and bought a brand new Xbox. He then proceeded to tell me that he had already had 2 Xbox 360s and that he didn't really like them as he felt that the jump between generations wasn't as pronounced as he'd expected. Whilst, to a certain extent, he spoke the truth, I'm positive that when games such as Gears of War, Bioshock, Too Human and Alan Wake hit the shelves, the generation gap will be there for everyone to see.

But I can understand his frustration. Sports games that are on multiple formats seem to be the worst offenders. It really does feel that 360 owners get the shitty end of the stick when it comes to these games. To give but two examples, Tiger Woods '06 had less features than its previous gen counterparts and Splinter Cell Double Agent seems to be a completely different game on the Xbox compared to the 360. And guess what? it's the Xbox version, not the 360, that comes out smelling of roses. It just seems like developers cannot be arsed to put the time in on next generation titles. They are perfectly aware that people will buy the item regardless and so are more than content to do a half-assed job. So many games for the 360 have online capability and yet developers rarely implement this function correctly. It is notoriously difficult to get an online game of PES 6 and Tiger Woods 07.

Still, what angers me even more about PES 6 is that the PS2 has all the features that the 360 lacks! Here's a comprehensive list:

On PlayStation 2, you can play four versus four online. On Xbox 360, you can play one on one, or two versus two offline (Xbox 360 has no support at all for more than four players on one console, either). On PS2, you can choose from 33 stadiums. On Xbox 360, there are eight. On PS2, you have the PES Shop to work through, unlocking extra bits and pieces. On Xbox 360, there is no shop - you get what you're given. On PS2, the menus allow you to quickly flick between starting eleven and substitutes; to view the scorers during a game by hitting the pause button; to save off replays to your memory card; to edit virtually anything in the game; to play an International Challenge mode, based on World Cup qualifying, and Random Selection matches, where teams are randomly drawn players from a chosen continent (simply brilliant for multiplayer pick-up matches). On Xbox 360, of all of that, all you can do is edit the player names. You can't even save replays, which is just ludicrous - particularly given that the manual actually says you can.

I'm just so angry but so despondent at the same time. There's nothing I can do. Gaming is being ruined by greedy, lazy companies. If it's not half-finished games, it micro transactions or the 'ability' to buy cheats and otherwise unlockable extras using real world money. The fun is being taken out of gaming and I don't know what to do about it, apart from boycott companies who make half-assed efforts. But, dammit, I love the Pro Evo series and I expected better.

Shame on you Konami, shame on you.

To wash or not to wash?

2006-10-30T15:35:00.000Z

Why are told, from a very young age, that we must wash our hands after going to the toilet? Unless you accidentally piss or shit on your own hands why should you wash them? I reckon my knob has less germs than the palms of my hands. I'd even take a scientific test to prove it. It's another terrible lie propagated by the water companies to get us to waste water and increase their profits. The terrible fiends.

This, of course, is completely unrelated to the most difficult of questions: to wipe or not to wipe. The answer to this one, even when you think it has slipped straight out and left no hint of its passing, is to wipe. It's just dirty if you don't.

My Problems with Pro Evo 6

2006-10-27T17:58:00.000Z

The game play itself is as good as ever - it's been made subtly different so that even Pro Evo veterans can still be challenged and, more importantly, these changes, at first glance, appear to be for the better. This is very good news. This bad news comes a-following:

1. There's no edit mode for the team name, which isn't a big deal, but makes me a little sad.
2. You can change player's names and stats if you so wish, but cannot alter their features ( i.e. hair colour, hair style, boot style, accessories) or what club they play for. This is a terrible shame. Frank Bastard, with perfect stats and an eagle on his shoulders, cannot be a part of PES6. The footballing world mourns.
3. No PES Shop. So no extra stadia, ball designs and all manner of extras can be bought. Boo!
4. No classic players in the normal game. Gah! That means that my super pairing of Van Basten and Eusebio with Maradonna just behind them will never see the light of day. (There are classic players in the Master League mode, but I've not delved too deep into that at the moment)
5. No training. As in, nothing that explain to you all the different controls and lets you practice volleys, long balls, free kicks &c. for PES points. PES points also don't exist.
6. Only 8 stadia. Why? There were loads more in PES 5.
7. Cannot create one's own team in the Master League - you have to use a pre-existing team and their kit. Buggery!! My quest for the world's most garish kit has been forcibly stopped in its tracks by the bigwigs at Konami. Thanks.
8. There aren't as many post-match stats/options. So now you can't see what rating your players got, how far they ran with the ball etc. Bad lazy Konami!
9. It would appear that the commentary is exactly the same as PES5. Ooh, you awful, despicable bastards, Brooking and Konami. You're cheapness personified. Maybe that's why the game was released at £39.99 instead of £49.99. Thankfully, with my trading in and my staff discount, I ended up paying a whopping £3.48. In your face big, faceless corporation!
10. And worst of all, you can't save your goals. That is just shit. Super shitting shit. Sort it out Konami. The 360 is supposed to be powerful and great and brilliant and you've not put in a sodding save feature for goals. You heartless bastards.

I do still love the game, but I feel that with a little bit of extra effort, it could've been even better. I also understand that some of these features might be missing because they potentially infringed on copyright laws and stuff and that I can (just about, grudgingly) accept. Still doesn't excuse not allowing me to save the 35-yard screams that I (regularly *ahem*) score.

My First Day At Work

2006-10-23T17:54:00.000Z

I thoroughly enjoyed it! I feel like I’ve achieved something and I like the sense of satisfaction attached to that. For most of the four hours today I was quietly overwhelmed by the amount of information being hurled in my direction but thankfully a little of it managed to stick. I imagine that once I know my way around the till and am comfortable with everything, the shifts will become that little bit easier. But so far, so good. I didn’t make a terrible error although I did have someone at my shoulder for the entire shift making sure that this was the case. The customers were all very patient, especially when I would invariably spend 10 minutes searching for their game in the (incredibly-unorganised-and-only-tenuously-alphabetised) cupboards for them. And almost all of them looked sympathetically at me when I wheeled out the old, ‘I’m sorry, it’s my first day at work’ routine. I reckon I can keep peddling that line until January.

The best part of the job? Probably the 30% staff discount that I get off of full price games. Bring on PES6 on Friday! Actually, that’s a little harsh. The best part of the job is that everyone I’ve met there has been incredibly friendly and helpful and tolerated my stupidity when I’ve forgotten something they’ve just told me. I imagine that might wear off over time though.

Still, I give this job – at the moment – a big two thumbs up. It’s a lot better than any other job I’ve had (when comparing first days) and whilst that isn’t saying much, it’s better than a punch in the head.

Working 10 til 2

2006-10-22T19:47:00.000Z

I have a job! I’m a working man and earning a wage. It’s a cracking job, so brace yourself: Part-time shop assistant at Game. Oh yes. I’ll be learning how to operate a till, how to be surly, unhelpful and how to peer contemptuously over my glasses when an individual chooses to buy FIFA 07 over PES 6. I don’t see this job as a permanent solution to either my money woes or my indecision over my career. In fact, I would be completely callous and disloyal and jack the job in should a better offer come my way. I doubt they’d miss me – I’m only on the shop floor for a paltry 12 hours a week. Still, the minimum wage will keep the wolves from the door that little bit longer and the (potential) staff discount will lessen the impact of my gaming addiction.

Should some wonderful and hilarious event unfold during my working hours, they’ll be reported here. Oh what chortling may await us! I’m almost giddy with glee. That’s a lie. I’m not giddy at all, especially not with glee. I’m just hoping that I don’t inadvertently charge some poor sop £12,000 for a second-hand PS2 or Open Season on the DS. At least now I can claim that the many hours spent on the 360 haven’t been wasted – it was all research. Should anyone have a query about Football Manager 2005 then I’m your man. Anything else and I’ll be useless. Which’ll put me on a par with most shop assistants. Ace.

Beware, bad pun below:

With this job, you could in fact say that I am gamefully employed. (Groan).

Back In England

2006-10-13T20:21:00.000Z

Well, what a turn around! Ellie's broken jaw was rather more serious than either of us thought and we were, frankly, quite foolish in thinking (hoping) that it could be fixed within 2 weeks. Theoretically, Ellie's jaw could've been fixed in Brisbane. However, we were running low on money and it would've been completely impractical to get a job 650km away and then have Ellie make a 3 day round trip back to Brisbane for weekly check ups. Moreover, Ellie would've been out of action (and will be out of action) for about six weeks in general, thus preventing any type of gainful employment, especially agricultural work. Even if Ellie had've found a way to not put any stresses/strains on her jaw, she will have to be a no-solid diet for far too long, making it difficult to get the necessary calorific intake in order to fuel her agricultural day.

With a heavy heart we thus decided that coming home was the only option left. It is indeed a terrible shame but it's more important that Ellie's jaw stops being wonky, that her bite matches up again and that her lower teeth get back to where they should be. I don't actually feel that bad about coming back home - I'd rather return now than after 6 months of amazing fun. And we've not completely ruled out returning after Christmas.

So, a good 10 months earlier than I'd anticipated, I'm going to have to start thinking about a career. A proper one. That is quite scary. Still, I now have some new and different examples to give highlighting my teamworking skills - mustering cattle! If that doesn't impress them, nothing will. Well, my 6 months on Job Seekers allowance might tempt them into employing me.

Down on the (training) farm

2006-10-06T18:25:00.000Z

Our week on the training farm is almost over. The farm itself is about a 20-25 min drive from a place called Goomeri (pronounced G'merry) which in turn is about an hour drive away from Gympie. Gotta love these Australian names. After a week's intensive instruction I can now ride a motorbike, drive a tractor (although my gear changes are a bit dodgy), muster cattle on both motorbike and horse, muster cattle on foot when in the cattle pens, use a chainsaw and fix fences. I finally feel like a man.

More importantly, we have also been offered a job. It's in Dirranbandi (spelling?) which is about 500km west of Brisbane. It's a cattle and sheep station owned by a couple who have several children. My work would involve general mustering, stock work (possibly castration, injecting, de-horning the cattle - that's removing the horns, you filthy perverts - and maybe even shearing the sheep) and Ellie would be teaching the 7 year old daughter, riding the family's young horses and feeding stock in the mornings. Apparently it's very hard work - dawn til dusk sort of stuff - but I'm really quite excited about the prospect.

The week hasn't been without incident though. Whilst in the cattle pens on Wednesday, Ed (our trainer) was talking to use about how to look for ticks on cattle as well as the problems that tapeworms can cause. Then, out of the blue, Ellie fainted, and landed smack on her chin. The diagnosis of the dentist was a suspected broken jaw. An incredibly long round trip back to Brisbane (four hours there and four hours back) and a three-hour wait in the Royal Brisbane hospital confirmed the dentist's suspicions. Ellie now has an appointment at the maxillo-facial clinic in Brisbane on Tuesday morning at 9am, where we presume they'll pin her jaw back into place. The whole incident, and what followed, what pretty shocking. Thankfully, Ellie doesn't seem to be in too much discomfort, although she is on a no-solids diet until Tuesday at least.

The people who have offered us the job are very kind and have agreed to postpone the start date by a week (we should've been going there on Sunday, now it'll be a week on Sunday) in order to allow Ellie to recuperate. Hopefully she won't need too much attention after Tuesday, but if she does, then we'll turn the job down and get work elsewhere.

Everything, apart from Ellie smashing her face in, has been wonderfully fantastic. I get the feeling I'll be saying that every blog post, but I do mean it. I can see why people fall in love with this way of life. Yes, the hours are long, but it's seems so much more fulfilling than sitting behind a desk. I mean, I get to whizz around on motorbikes and horses chasing cattle! If I wanted I could brandish a pretend sword and then I'd almost be a pirate. A pirate and a cowboy. That makes me pretty cool.

[Update: For some reason I can't post comments on my own posts on this computer - it is very old and gets confused with pop-ups. I don't know why Ellie fainted, but we assume it was a combination of very hot weather, dusty conditions, standing on our feet for several hours and not enough water. Ellie's felt fine ever since and there's not been a repeat performance.]

Fraser Island

2006-10-01T18:23:00.000Z

Today Ellie and I went on a guided tour of Fraser Island. Basically it was wonderful and we wish we had more time in Rainbow Beach so we could've gone on the 3-day tour. Nevermind. We may actually come back this way when returning to Brisbane in a year's time. We failed to spot any dingoes (they're nocturnal like their prey) but we did see several whales frolicking in the Pacific Ocean jumping up and splashing down and the like. I don't blame 'em, I'd probably be jumping up and down with joy if I'd've been mating in the Barrier Reef for the last three months.

Lake McKenzie was great - adjectives don't really do it justice. The sand is 97% silica and is a brilliant exfoliant. Our legs and hands are now super-clean. Find some pictures below. There is also one of the S.S. Maheno which crashed on Fraser Island in the late 1930s.

Click these links here:

Me and Ellie in Lake McKenzie
Shipwreck
Lake McKenzie

[These blog posts are so short and not very well written because I'm on a tight and expensive timer!]

I come from a land down under

2006-09-29T22:12:00.000Z

I've made it in one piece! No awful calamity befell me during my flight(s) over and everything is fine. I even managed to use a free foot-massager in Singapore airport. Everything here, so far, is absolutely lovely. I know that's a bit of a bland adjective to use on a country, but at the moment I'm still recovering from jet lag and Ellie and myself have yet to stay in one place for more than one night.

We arrived in Brisbane on Thursday morning and we were taken to the Yellow Submarine Hostel. It was pretty basic but did the job. In order to try and prevent jet lag kicking, we went looking around Brisbane as well as getting our visas sorted. We mainly looked around the shopping area and the food courts (which are so cheap and so very, very good - the sushi was delicious) and I'm sad to say one of the stalls made a terrible error. It missed out on the pun of the century by only calling itself Abra Kebab. Still, I suppose everything can't be perfect.

By mid-afternoon we were absolutely knackered and so thought a little lie-down might revive our spirits. That lie-down turned into a 16-hour sleep fest. Still, it meant that by the time we'd woken up and got ready, it was time to head to the bus station to get the coach to Rainbow Beach - a meagre 5 and a half hour journey. Still, we're in Rainbow Beach now and have precisely no plans. We're just going to lie on the beach all day, topping up tans and preparing for moving on to Gympie on Monday.

Hopefully any future blogposts will be less narrative, but I thought I'd just set the scene. Aussie Beer is perfectly fine - the stuff I've had (Toohey's) is a lot better than Carling or Fosters. I do, however, now have a terrible hangover.

One last anecdote: Whilst sleeping in the hostel in Brisbane, we were rudely awoken at 3 in the morning by drunk English people coming back from a night out singing Goodbye My Lover by James Blunt. Half way around the sodding world and I'm woken up by a bastard James Blunt song.

And I'm Off!

2006-09-25T17:42:00.000Z

I'm all packed and ready to set off to the other side of the world. Hopefully, deity willing, I should be touching down in Brisbane on Thursday at about 6.35am. Then the fun really starts. I'm not sure what all of this means for this blog. I'll attempt to keep it updated, but I imagine posts will be even more infrequent than they already are. If I don't put any pictures up, then they'll be hundreds added when I return. Which is in August '07.

So, see you all later and when I return I'll (hopefully) be muscular, tanned, adept at shearing sheep and mustering cattle!

Avast!

2006-09-19T17:38:00.000Z

It be International Talk Like A Pirate Day so speak the lingo or be for the plank, ye scurvy-ridden land lubber! A joke, to set ye on your way:

What does a pirate say when (s)he has a heart attack?
Arrrrr, me heartie!

Were I an actual pirate, I would've typed this post on this, with much the same result.

Gallivanter Extraordinaire

2006-09-17T11:51:00.000Z

All in all, it’s been a busy week and a half. But what a fun one! I’m now back from Durham with everything completed and handed in on time. Before the move Ellie and I were taken out by my tutor for a farewell drink which acted as the prelude to a very enjoyable evening even if it did mean I was hungover during the drive from Durham to Barnsley.

The following Monday (11th Sept) I headed on over to Liverpool and after an evening there went on down to London until yesterday. The main purpose of the trip was a farewell tour, saying goodbye to our friends. Tour is probably a strong word as in the end we only stayed in one pub and then people came to us. But nevertheless, it was very enjoyable. I’m not sure how I expected to feel seeing friends who I won’t see for the best part of a year but I didn’t feel sad. This is not a less-than-subtle way of saying I don’t care for them, just that I don’t think I’ve fully accepted the fact that I am leaving this sceptered isle for 10 months. I’m sure that when I’m actually getting on the plane I’ll realise the enormity of what I’m doing.

I even managed to do some touristy things while in London which pleased me greatly (I’m something of a London-virgin, having only been there about 4 times and one of those was for an interview). I went to Harrods’s Food Halls and salivated over pretty much everything. My resolve broke when we passed the Krispy Kreme stand and had to have a donut covered in chocolate icing and filled with custard as well as a blueberry filled donut. I had them and felt more complete, if a little sick. Alice was supremely kind and bought some veal shins for dinner that evening (they tasted and are a lot better than they sound) and we all marveled at how lovely the marrow was. Mmm, marrow. The next day Alice, Ellie and I visited the Natural History Museum – another first for me. I think that it could possibly be the greatest thing on Earth, an absolute haven for lovers of facts and trivia. Needless to say all and sundry were subject to my findings. For example, and as stupid as it sounds, I never realized giraffes were so tall. I mean, I know they’re not exactly short, but they were much taller than I thought. Similarly, mountain goats were stockier and taller than I imagined them. Conversely, leopards were smaller than I expected them to be, so much so that I reckon I could take one in a cage fight. If all else fails, I’ll take that up as a career – Matt the Leopard Destroyer.

The one thing the NH Museum failed to tell us was the maximum length of a badger. This ended up being a heated debate in the pub that evening, with one friend proclaiming that, whilst not a regular occurrence, 2 meters is easily attainable. I, and other right-thinking people, dismissed this as tosh and poppycock, but no one could provide a definitive answer. Even Wikipedia is no-use, arguably because some swine (definitely not my friends and I) altered the page saying that they did reach that length. Whether they also have claws as big as a man’s head is not mentioned.

Many thanks must be extended to Adam and Rosie and Alice, for being very gracious hosts – not only did they put Ellie and me up at very short notice when it turned out the place we were staying had actually flooded due to the boiler bursting but they also bought and prepared for us food!

After such adventures, things are going to be relatively quiet. I don’t leave the country until the 26th (a week Tuesday) and I’ve got pretty much everything sorted. I might go on a scavenger mission to Primark or TK Max for some cheap working clothes, but that’s about it. In fact, I think I’ll spend most of the week playing as much Xbox360 as possible – my aim is to squeeze 10 months of gaming into a week. I’m confident I’ll succeed.

Farcical?

2006-09-06T11:39:00.000Z

The ticker bar on tehgrauniad says that 'Tony Blair says he was going to sack Tom Watson anyway, for signing MPs' letter' and that more details will follow soon.

This has a playground-ring to it, like when an immature, surly 15 year old lad has been dumped by his girlfriend and responds with, 'Yeah, well, I was gonna dump you anyway, so ner.'

Nice one, Tone.

Steve 'Crikey' Irwin, 1962-2006

2006-09-04T11:19:00.000Z

I really don't know what to say about the death of Steve Irwin. For some reason, despite never really watching his TV shows, I'm shocked by it. I always thought that he was indestructable, sent from the future to teach us about animal conservation and to entertain us with his blatant disregard for his and his kids' safety. The world needs more people with the 'no taking of guff' attitude that typified Steve Irwin.

As small a consolation as it is, at least he went doing something he enjoyed.

I find it amusing to look at horses' willies

2006-09-03T18:41:00.000Z

Since taking horse riding lessons and learning the rudiments of how to drive my equine companion, I've discovered a new zeal for watching show jumping on the TV. I'm mightily impressed by the riders' ability to control their steeds and jump high fences without having a look of sheer panic on their faces. Or falling off.

The high point of this afternoon's 2 hour equestrian fest came when a white horse got its willy out and didn't put it away for ages and ran about with its willy swinging everywhere and then it did a poo as it was jumping in the air and the poo went everywhere.

Little annoyances

2006-08-31T12:43:00.000Z

My blogging activities have been rather infrequent lately. It's because when I've lots of things happening in my life, I never force myself to find the time to write about them - not that what I'm up to is terribly interesting. It's a heady combination of thesis (still), trying to get visas sorted out and packing the flat for the move back home. Excitement city!

What has been annoying me, and generally reducing the fun of my life, is blogger. Ever since I migrated to Beta Blogger I've been unable to view the wysiwyg bar, meaning that I can't use shortcuts to link to stuff. So if I want to use fancy-dan l33t skillz and the like, I'll actually have to know how to use 'code'. Woe is me. After a bit of an investigation, I think this problem actually originates from my end, if you will. Cursed Internet Explorer ver. 6. I'm sure the rest of the world is on version 15 or using Mozilla or Firefox and AppleMacs like good, original, supa-l33t computer users.

Whilst the blogger problem is not the end of the world, and quite easily solved, I could quite happily strangle a Vodafone or Nokia employee. I'm in the process of cancelling my contract and moving over to a Pay As You Go O2 jobbie. All good and well, you might think. However, in order to do that, I need to type in a mystic code to my phone to stop it being 'latched' to Vodafone. How do I get this code? Through protracted negotiations with Vodafone who request it from Nokia. This can take up to 10 days. I was also informed that there might be a small fee for this.

Twenty-fucking-quid.

The bastards. It's not that much of a surprise though is it, that a global corporation would look to extract as much money as possible from a consumer. I'd go to the market to get 'Mysterious Bloke No. 1' to unlock my phone for me at a fraction of the cost, but I know the conversation would go like this:

Me [Handing phone over]: My phone is locked, can you fix it please?
Mysterious Bloke No. 1 [pocketing phone]: What phone?

And I don't want that to happen.

Kiss My AHRC*

2006-08-26T17:06:00.000Z

It comes as unsurprising news, given the above title, that I didn't get AHRC funding for a Ph.D. It's a bit of a shame as they obviously didn't think my proposal was tip top. In fact, they deemed it to be a '3: Excellent application, high priority for an award'. Only those proposals that were rated at a '1' got the the money. The one positive thing from this is that I no longer have to make an awkward decision which could have possibly left me feeling bad at turning down Ph.D funding. I'm free to run off to Australia with not a care in the world. And, in about 2-3 weeks time, I'll never have to look at a medieval seal again (although, to be fair, I do quite like them and find them interesting).

*I think that when I apply for a job in about a years time, I should be made Pun-Master General of this country.

[I think Blogger may be functioning again, although it's not perfect at the moment. Cursed Beta versions]

Boo Hiss at ITV

2006-08-24T09:21:00.000Z

If the existence of Wolf Creek wasn't bad enough, there's now a more 'accurate' version of the Falconio murder coming to our screens. Yay! How to make a person going to the Outback happy and full of joy! I'm fully aware that there are a lot more 'benign' things that will kill me out there other than twisted serial killers (such as snakes, huge terrifying city-destroying insects, ravines, wolves - the normal and the 'were' variety, vampires and the living dead) but I really don't want to be reminded of it.

My First Dinner Party

2006-08-20T12:21:00.000Z

This Thursday evening gone, I attended my very first dinner party. I'm not sure exactly what constitutes a dinner party, but there were only 8 of us there and we all ate food around a table. That about does it for me. It was a very agreeable occasion, the company was very pleasant and the food was lovely. I also learned some valubale facts about older people and how they pour gin and tonics.

When offered an aperitif, I sensibly avoided the Martini and Cinzano and plumped for a good old reliable G&T. I decided to play it safe and go for the old 1/3 gin to 2/3 tonic route in order to remain in half-decent form for the main meal. The drink I actually received was half and half and for the first time in a long time, I tasted the unforgetable taste of neat gin. When the second gin came around, I thought, 'Sod it', and asked for a half and half mixture seeing as the first drink hadn't actually tasted that bad. I did indeed end up with a glass half-full of gin but only a quarter full on tonic. Thankfully, by the time I had had my third gin, dinner was served and so I could put some delicious guinea fowl, chorizo and rice with a pepper salsa (among other things) on top of Lake Gordons.

I was one of the lucky ones - a fellow dinner party guest also requested a 1/3-2/3 G&T combo and then watched on as the glass was half-filled with gin. The pourer stopped, squinted at the quantity of gin, decided that some more was need, and promptly poured.

Both Ellie and myself had a great time and fully intend to turn up next year after our jaunt down under whether we're invited or not. And don't think I'm complaining about the gin - every good night out either starts, finishes or at some point in the middle includes a drink heavily comprised of gin.

Mighty Pants Challenge Failure

2006-08-18T22:12:00.000Z

Despite my heroic pant-putting on efforts, I failed to make to the B3ta newsletter, as some upstart fitted himself into 43 pairs of pants. It's a majestic achievement and makes an entertaining video. A worthy winner.

If I so desired, I could attempt to see how long I can stick my tongue out for (as part of a gauntlet thrown down by the B3ta newsletter - not just for my own amusement) but I'm pretty sure the novelty would wear off after a minute or two.

Canned Laughter

2006-08-16T21:18:00.000Z

Why oh why oh why? It doesn't make the television show any funnier and the last thing I want when watching comedy is to be told what is funny and what isn't. In fact, I'd go as far to say that a laughter track in general, however natural, is superfluous and intrusive. On the DVD of the deeply dark Jam, there is the option to watch the sketches with laughter. That doesn't work, particularly as most of it is so dark as to be not funny but wrong. But that makes it funny. It's a complicated situation.

In my mind, being told when to laugh is indicative that the writers/producers have little faith in the show's amusement value. Have faith in your product! If people don't laugh, sod 'em and pretend it was serious drama. But don't insult the viewer's intelligence - we know that no one ever has ever laughed at My Family or My Hero.

The B3ta Pants Challenge

2006-08-13T15:47:00.000Z

I'm a fan of B3ta and a chronic lurker. I never contribute because not only do I not possess mad photoshop skills but because my ancedotes are tired, not particularly funny, and more than likely second-hand. Imagine my shock and delight when, perusing through the latest newsletter, I found something I could attempt:

PANT CHALLENGE - photos of you wearing every single pair of underwear you own all at the same time. We reckon due to the laws of physicals more than eight is impossible

Eight? I laugh in the face of eight. On my first attempt I comfortably fitted into 13 pairs. I was pleased with my endeavours but thought that I could achieve more. Two problems stood in my way. Firstly, I could only find 13 pairs of pants belonging to me in the flat. I easily overcame this 'obstacle' by raiding my better half's knicker draw. I'm secure enough in my masculinity to put on a few pairs of girlie pants, especially if it's in the name of science. My feminine pants being vetted (they couldn't be anything too fancy because it would be a shame to ruin a good pair of pants) I hit the brick wall of the second problem.

Without fail, all of the pairs of pants were black or grey and I need to be able to differentiate them. Not for me, understand, but so that people wouldn't accuse me of fibbing through my back teeth on something as important as this. I ended up plumping for the old 'number on a piece of paper' system and sticking that within each layer of pants. Fully armed and ready to try I again, I put on my pairs of pants.

22 pairs of pants.

That's how many I managed to squeeze on. I'm confident that one could easily hit 30 pairs and not suffer too many adverse side effects. The main problem I found was that moving about with lots of pairs of pants on didn't help the old blood circulation and that my man-sack was held a little too firmly in place. And my arse looked huge, but I can live with that.

Unfortunately, the photos do not conclusively prove that I had all 22 on at the same time. If you want to rubbish me as a charlatan, you can, but I know what I achieved today, a truly fateful and portentious eve.

Click here for a me increased in size.

If you squint carefully at the above picture you can make out the strips of papers and their numbers. At first glance there only appears to be 21 strips of paper, but the second one on the left is actually two pieces of paper very closely together. Honest. I'm using my hands to hold the strips down to make them more visible. Yes, I have very hairy legs.

Here's me from the side. Respect my bulk.

Garlic Custard?

2006-08-12T21:40:00.000Z

Those who happen to be semi-regular readers of this wonderous blog may be of the opinion that all the food Ellie and I touch turns into a culinary masterpiece. Generally, that is the case. However, sometimes our own skills are get the better of us. So, instead of following blindly the recipes of others, we improvise. In this particular instance of improvisation, the food, alas, was not quite as we planned. Although Heston Blumenthal would've been impressed, if a little staggered and culinarily challenged by our paradigm-shifting innovation.

Garlic Custard.

Overall, two lesson were learnt this evening.

1) Jam Roly-Poly tasted better when I was 7.
2) When cooking custard, don't use the pan that was used to cook garlic butter the night before.

That is all. Tomorrow, to alleviate Sunday boredom, I will be attempting The Great B3ta Pants Challenge. All (well, maybe not quite all) will be revealed.

Flaming Galah

2006-08-09T22:26:00.000Z

Percy: Look, look, I just can't take the pressure of all these omens anymore!
Edmund: Percy...
Percy: No, no, really, I'm serious. Only this morning in the courtyard, I saw a horse with two heads and two bodies!
Edmund: Two horses standing next to each other?
Percy: Yes, I suppose it could have been.

I've recently decided what to do with My Future. For a while, it was the ever-increasing-in-size pink elephant in my peripheral vision. Job-hunting was soul destroying as it was a mixture of two parts 'no job interests me' and one part 'fruitlessness' and I became certain that, even if I were to receive funding from the AHRC (I've still to hear from them), academia isn't for me.

So, what to do?

Travel. More specifically, go to Australia for the best part of ,a year and work in the outback on a farm/ranch doing farmy/ranchy things, which, in my mind, include, mustering, crop picking, fence mending, kangaroo shooting and running away from psychopathic killers and/or snakes. Hopefully I won't have to partake of the last activity. I've no real idea what to expect apart from that it'll be damn hot and that the work will probably be very hard indeed. Still, hopefully the lifestyle, the views and the experience will make up for any mild unpleasantness. After working for some time - the duration is not yet known as it all depends on how much Ellie and I first earn and then save - we intend to travel and see some sights. I imagine we'll aim to take in all the popular attractions, but if anyone out there knows something that just must be seen, let me know.

So that's my project for the time being. D-Day (A-Day?) is going to be some time in September and there are still many things to be organised. In order to improve my employability in the Outback, I've started taking horse riding lessons - being able to control a horse is, apparently, a key skill when mustering cattle. I am also soon to be fully resilient to the charms of Hepatitis A and Typhoid Fever so that when out there I can go and lick the wounds of someone suffering from those lovely, lovely, illnesses with abandon.

My thesis? Well, that's still chugging along quite painfully, and I'll end up fretting at the last moment when it comes to altering my first draft. But for the moment, when I look at a seal, pick up a history book or attempt to write a chapter, all I can think about is drinking beer in the sunshine, throwing some shrimps on the barbie, wrestling with crocs, watching Monty tear through the Aussies, and singing Men At Work songs. I also fully intend to visit the Neighbours set and get a photo of me with a popular character. Not Zeke though. I'd tell him to sod off if he crossed my path.

We're All Do(o)med!

2006-08-04T09:21:00.000Z

Medievalists rejoice! The Domesday Book is now available online.

Rock Me To Sleep!

2006-08-04T08:07:00.000Z

Can't get your troublesome tot off to sleep? Want to manipulate their taste in music before they even realise they have one? Want something to listen to when you have a stonking hangover and everything seems far too loud?

Then this is the album for you! Buy Lullaby Renditions of Metallica today!

It turns out that they do a whole series of these. I may have to pillage this site for all my Christmas and Birthday presents for many years to come (assuming that my friends, male and female, start popping out kids). I'm intrigued by the Lullaby Tool album. Thankfully, Stinkfist isn't on the album. It's not that I don't like that song - quite the opposite - it's just that I don't think an ode to fisting should really be played on glockenspeils, mellotrons and chimes.

See the entire catalogue here.

Ay 'Up Cock

2006-08-01T14:10:00.000Z

Happy Yorkshire Day.

Ah, this explains some of it...

2006-07-24T08:17:00.000Z

I'm a bit late with this, but I spent the weekend back home and have seemingly only just recovered from a meeting with Mr. Falling-Down-Water.

The reason for the truncated GNR gig, and more than likely the reason for no Paradise City, is this. Axl got hit in the face, again, apparently. And so refused to play. I suppose I can understand to a certain extent but I bet it wouldn't have happened if they'd've come onstage when they were supposed to. Actually, that's a lie. I think it would've happened away. I imagine the person threw the second object just to see how Axl's face would react. Would it mystically rearrange itself to avoid the projectile? Would said missle bounce off of his face, not leaving a mark? Would it hover, mysteriously, inches from his face, repelled by the force of plastic surgery, ginger braids and ginger facial hair? As I didn't see the incident, I'll never know, but I have my theories.

You could be, you should be, mine.

2006-07-20T17:09:00.000Z

I so very nearly was Axl. Oh so close.

To be honest, I wasn't expecting much from Guns N' Roses last night. I expected to be disappointed so that whatever happened would be great. Unless I ended up being terribly disappointed. Thankfully I wasn't. Well, not really.

Ellie and myself ended up arriving at the concert at about 7.45pm and caught the last song and best bit of Sebastian Bach's set: the classic Youth Gone Wild. In a last hurrah of hair-spray, pomp and guitar solos, he was gone, obviously dismayed to find himself playing to a venue that was at that time only about a third full. Bullet For My Valentine were next and they were so-so. The sound seemed a little muddy for the type of music that they were playing meaning that the harmonised leads and tight riffing got lost in the mix. I'm sure they will have won over a few fans, but for me the balance sheet remained at a big fat 0. Minus points for the singer continually gobbing up into the air between songs (and I mean literally straight up so it either hit him or the people in the front row) but plus points for some fantastic posing and posturing with a Flying V.

With BFMV off the stage at about 9 pm, the entire arena was patiently waiting for 9.30 pm when GNR would hit the stage. O-ho-ho yes. Patiently waiting were we. We listened to the decidedly random tunes that were being played (The Hives, David Bowie, Babyshambles and Thin Lizzy to name but a few) and 9.30 pm came around. And the went away. As did 9.45 pm. By 10.05 pm many a 'boo' was audible and the crowd was getting rather antsy. Eventually, at 10.15 pm, the background music stopped, the house lights went down, and everything kicked off.

The opening 1-2-3 of Welcome To The Jungle, It's So Easy and Mr. Brownstone was simply fantastic. Axl's voice can still hit the high notes and I thought that vocally he was on good form for the entire evening. Live and Let Die had some cracking pyrotechnics and, at times, GNR built up an impressive head of steam. However, due to the nature of the set, this was never maintained. They would get going and bang out 3 top quality songs and there would be a little lull as a band member was introduced leading to them showing off their prowess on their instrument. For about 7 minutes a time. I suppose this had to be done, what with GNR now being made up of Axl and a bunch of relative unknowns but do we need to see a Dizzy Reed bluesy piano solo in the middle of the gig? Other sections of the show were also ill-advised. The two-guitar instrumental version of Christina Aguilera's Beautiful was quite nice, but not the pivotal point of the show. Ron 'Bumblefoot' Thal's solo spot actually turned out to be one of the highlights as the night because after the obligatory impressive guitar solo, he played Don't Cry, managed to include all the guitar solos, some of the vocal lines and the lovely picked notes of the general rhythm all at the same time. By himself. With no one else playing anything. Very excellent indeed.

Despite the overkill of the band member's solo spots, the night reaffirmed my faith in Stadium Rock. Seeing live, in the flesh, the outro solo to November Rain whilst a calvacade of sparks looked like the were very close to setting Axl Rose on fire was a heart-warming and an abiding memory. All the classics (apart from, unfortunately, Paradise City) were brought out, including Sweet Child of Mine, Out Ta Get Me, You Could Be Mine, Patience, My Michelle (with Sebastian Bach) and a very-extended but still-very-brilliant reggae-style version of Knocking on Heaven's Door. They finished with Nightrain. Twice. That's because during the first chorus Axl stopped singing, claiming someone had thrown something at him. And after that he promptly left the stage taking the band with him. They returned to finish the song and I was unable to tell whether something had actually happened or whether he had manufactured it in order to add a bit of extra 'pazaz' to the evening. I suppose a GNR concert without some form of incident, be it being 45 minutes late on stage or walking off during a song, wouldn't really be a GNR concert.

So after all the above rambling thoughts, it was a really great gig. But not quite amazing. There were too many lulls in the set. The main problem, though, was the fact that it wasn't really GNR playing. It was Axl and his friends who were not members of GNR when they were releasing albums. Even Izzy Stradlin looked slightly out of place when he was brought on stage. This feeling was perfectly summed up by an individual behind me:

Axl Rose: I'd like to introduce to y'all Mr. Robin Finck.
Chap behind me [in broad North Yorkshire accent]: Where the fuck is Slash?

Where indeed?

More great recipes.

2006-07-16T20:25:00.000Z

Every weekend, Ellie and myself cook a main meal and a pudding. The food is invariably good. Every now and then, it transcends good and flirts with wonderful and delicious. Well, yesterday was a case in point. In fact, I'd say that the food actually slipped into divine and sumptuous. So, when bored and fancy cooking some food, use these recipes. The main course is from Delicious magazine and the pudding from the BBC food website.

Cod en papillote with tomatoes and pesto

Ingredients

c.200g piece of skinned cod loin/fillet (use one of these pieces per person)
6 tomatoes cut into thinish slices
15g fresh basil leaves
several garlic cloves
1 tbsp pine nuts
2 tbsps extra-virgin olive oil
1 tbp finely grated Parmesan

Method

1) Preheat the oven to 240C. Season the cod on both sides with salt and pepper, then set aside.

2) Make the pesto. Put the basil, garlic, nuts and oil into a mini-food processor and blend until smooth. Stir in the Parmesan and seaon.

3) Cut out large squares of both greaseproof paper and foil and place the paper one on top of the foil one. Overlap the tomatoes slices in the centre and lightly season. Spread the pesto over the tomatoes and rest the cod on top. Fold over the foil and paper and seal, creating a parcel type thing.

4) Place on a baking tray and cook for c.10-15 mins, depending on the weight of the cod. Serve with potatoes or rice.

The recipe for the pudding, blueberry cheesecake gateau, can be found here. In order to entice you to click the link, here's what our version looked like.

Ellie must take all the credit for this absolutely wonderful dessert. Needless to say, it didn't last long on the table.

The frustrations of working for someone more stupid and worse at their job than you

2006-07-11T19:12:00.000Z

Yesterday, Elinor had a row with her boss. The above picture, drawn after the event, is an artist's reconstruction of the turbulent emotions roused by this barny.

Elinor's boss is a bitch. Elinor hopes her plane crashes before it gets to Frankfurt. Now Elinor is launching a campaign to get her boss fired. Any suggestions welcome. So far, submissions for consideration have been:

Telling Lorna's boss (this is more 'phase 1' and is taking place tomorrow)
Smacking herself in the face/generally causing self-harm and then blaming it on Lorna a la Fight Club.
Get third party to pose as an important client and complain about Lorna. This complaint will involve accusations of bribery, corruption, larceny, grand theft auto &c, &c.
Plant child pornography in Lorna's house/work computer. Tell t'old Bill.
Shit in the photocopier, photocopy it many times and say Lorna did it.
Wait and see how long it takes for the directors to realise how incompetent Lorna and how much of a shitty attitude she has. They may also pick up on the fact that everyone who works at the place in question hates her.

And now, a poem to finish that is unrelated to the above and in no way contains any hidden messages:

Lately, I've wandered
O'er a brook or two occasionally breaking out into a
Run.
Never did I run so much
As when I ran.
Is it true? Demanded Brer Rabbit.
S'pose so, said the little duckling.
Avast and away, sails my life
Between, betwixt and
Into a
Terrible, awful
Cold
Hell.

Until she is gone, and I quote, 'I will have to wait underground, bloated with poison like the snake of Book II of the Aeneid. And I will wait.'

Coke Zero? More like Super-Man Juice!

2006-07-10T18:37:00.000Z

Coke Zero is essentially Diet Coke marketed at men. Coca-Cola hire retards in their marketing department and nothing they say or do will convince me otherwise. For a start, it's a well documented fact that taking the sugar out of something makes it taste worse. Or at least different. So claiming that it tastes the same is a patent lie. Bad Coca-Cola marketing people. So the sugar's gone, but what have they replaced it with? Carcinogens.

I know, I'm as shocked as you. People in advertising have told a fib.

I think in order to sell effectively to men Diet Coke they should have wormed their way into a man's mindset. Men like breasts, violence, ninjas, pirates, Jedis and food. So, the ideal advert would be a ninja Jedi pirate eating a big-ass raw steak (with chips, chicken, liver, onion rings, some bacon, perhaps an egg, pork chops and several sausages) kicking the crap out of other baddie Ninjas in order to rescue a buxom wench from a volcano or a trainline. The wench, after being rescued, would show her gratitude by pouring 'Ninja Jedi Pirate Coke' (as I would call it) over her naked breasts and then make love to the ninja Jedi Pirate with her other buxomy-wenchy best friends.

Damn. I'd buy that drink then. And I didn't get the job in Sales and Marketing? What has the world come to.

I may be responsible for Microsoft 'selling' so many Xbox 360s...

2006-07-07T21:20:00.000Z

I've always wondered how companies such as Microsoft or Sony calculate console sales. The figures are always bandied about in a tendentious manner when one company is trying to assert superiority over its rivals. Are the numbers actual consoles that have been sold over the counter and for which money has changed hands? Is it the number of consoles shipped to stores? Does it include the number of consoles that have been sent out to replace faulty ones?

Well, pretty soon I'm going to be on my 4th Xbox360. I think that's pretty shite going, all in all. So I've been angry with them and complained. They've been as nice as ever and promised me some form of compensation - probably a game of some description. They better give me a good choice because I don't want to be stuck with
Over G Fighters. I may even try to get extra sympathy and roll out some stats for them to ruminate over: I've lost over 15 hours of Table Tennis, 30 hours of Oblivion and I don't want to think how many hours of Football Manager, as well as now no longer having any of my Xbox Gamer Points things. Yes, it highlights how sad I am, but that's not what's at issue here.

I hope I don't continue to be the world's unluckiest 360 owner, otherwise I'm going to start mentioning the dreaded 'R' word (refund) and make noises intimating that I'm going to buy a PS3 or a Nintendo Wii instead. That should scare 'em.

On a completely different topic, here's the video I talked about in the post below. It's Strapping Young Lad with Wrong Side. Oh Yes. This should be our national anthem. This or Oh My Fucking God.

I latch onto trends much later than most people

2006-07-04T09:35:00.000Z

I'm not a technological guru and I often fail to keep up with the latest trends. That's why when I discover something that I consider to be shiny and new and great, it's often old hat. I know for a fact that this is the case with YouTube but that's not going to stop my waxing lyrical about it. Yes, it is full of pseudo-porn and videos of people badly playing their guitars in their bedrooms (there are also vids of people playing the guitar frighteningly well in their bedrooms). What I love about YouTube is that it enables me to view badly recorded live performances of bands and see official videos that I wouldn't normally get around to seeing. Vampira by Devin Townsend is a case in point. One of my favourite songs off of the Synchestra album and the video is great too.

There's every chance that from now on I will augment my dull posts with videos, irrespective of their relevance to the topic that I'm ruminating about. I'll try not to turn my blog into a walking YouTube advert, but I'm not going to promise anything. I know for a fact that when Strapping Young Lad release the video for 'The Wrong Side' that is going straight on here - it was on their myspace page for a while, but was taken down because it was released too early.

Does the thought of seeing Devin dressed in black tie, singing like an 1980s rock god and widdling on the guitar at a wedding get you excited? Thought so.

Drop the nut on Ronaldo

2006-07-01T18:07:00.000Z

I'm not sure of the reason behind Rooney's sending off. I thought that the 'stamp' was accidental and that the shove on Smug-Face deserved a yellow card at worst. Still, we showed more passion and drive in the remaining 60 mins than we had done in the rest of the tournament. Furthermore, I resolve not to slag off Hargreaves anymore. He had a great game. About time too.

I hope that Ronaldo moves to Real Madrid for his sake because if we learn in pre-season training that Rooney had kicked the shit out of him, I don't think anyone would mind. In fact, a lot of the country would probably be willing to help him.

I think the people I hate the most are the BBC montage putter-togethers. Before every match I inhabit a world of strict rationality, weighing up the pros and cons and, somewhat sadly, usually deciding that England will fail to perform. Then they start. The pictures of past glories and failures, the dramatic, stirring music, the prophetic snippets of commentary and my hope builds to a frightening crescendo. We can do it! This time, we will do it! Damn it, we deserve to do it! We're English, we ruled the known world and were good at it so we can beat some Johnny Foreigner trying to play a game that we created!

Then we lose. On penalties.

And I know next time will be even worse, because the montage people will have more pain and anguish with which to work.

When looking for a suitable picture, I stumbled across this gem. It's my new favourite picture, with Magritte's 'Ceci n'est pas une pipe' a close second.

David Beckham makes children cry

2006-06-25T19:48:00.000Z

You would think that the above is an actual picture of me taken during England's match this afternoon. You would be wrong. It's actually of one of the children who were taken to see the match after they fell foul of some terrible ticket scam. And why were they crying? Because the England players, being good Christian men, had literally interpreted the word of the Bible. Matthew 19:14 says:

But Jesus said, Suffer little children

In fact, they over compensated and made the whole of the country - boys, girls, men, women and god-fearing dogs - suffer. David Beckham was quite clearly the worst offender, or, to put it another way, the best Christian. He was so disgusted with his own mediocrity that he vomited up his bile and resentment at having a useless manager, a gout-ridden foot and a frankly terrifying wife. Unfortunately, being 'past it' cannot be cured with bouts of throwing up - Victoria can attest to that.

Yes, England won, but so would have Consett Blind Under-9s Mixed Team, and they would have had a bit of extra panache about their play. In fact, as a reward for beating those pesky Ecuadorians, Sven has informed the team that when they come home from Germany they can meet their heros (The Consett Blind Under-9s) and even pick up some tips from them. Upon hearing this news, Victoria Beckham commented,

*Bleeeeeeeeuuuuuurrgghhhhhh* David's really thrilled about being able to meet some of his sporting heroes. He really hopes that they will sign his chest, and if they do, he'll have it tattooed to remind of such a special day. *Bleeeeuuuuurrrrrggghhh*

Cheryl Tweedy concurred with that statement, simply adding,

Ha'wey, sorry can't say too much right now. I promised all of the lads a quick hop on if they won and I don't want to break their little hearts. I do know Ashley's excited though.

Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad

2006-06-22T16:50:00.000Z

My experience of Microsoft's customer service centre thingy has been almost impeccable. I can also say the same of UPS - I think they're the dog's bollocks. So much so that if I do get a job with one of their competitors, I'll just have to keep using them on the sly.

With a tear in my eye, I sent away my broken Xbox360 on Monday afternoon. By 11am this morning, I had a new, shiny, and more importantly working Xbox360 on my living room floor. For me, that's a very impressive turnaround. So what more could I ask for? Well, if I'm being picky, and I am, I would have liked to see a little explanation of what was actually wrong with my console. As it stands, I have no idea what made it stop working. Secondly, I'd like an apology, no matter how insincere, for the fact that the result of fixing my Xbox (I actually suspect that they just sent me a new one) was that all of my saved games were now no longer there. That's probably the biggest kick in the teeth and means that I'll have to start Oblivion from scratch, again. To conclude:

Good Stuff:

Speedy resolution to my problem
They did what they said and actually fixed the machine

Bad Stuff:

Hours and hours of gameplay lost.
I still don't know what was wrong with my big white brick.

Concluding Conclusion:

Actually, Microsoft, despite my post heading, you romp home with a mighty...two out of four. But I'll give you some bonus points because the big things have been done well. Work on the little stuff, and your service will be Perfect with a capital 'P'.

The Tired Predictability of Job Interviews

2006-06-21T16:56:00.000Z

Why bother asking the same stock of tired questions? Do they really show the company/HR department what this particular interviewee is like? Surely they realise the answers that they get are whay people think that they want to hear? Christ, I'm so desperate for a job that I happily slip into 'corporate mode' and tell them about (mostly ficticious) times where I've questioned someone's beliefs, or where I've come in for criticism, or where I've shown initiative.

To really test an person's individuality, ability to think on their feet and produce meaningful answers, they should throw in a few curve-balls. "I've just set your trousers on fire, what are you going to do?" or "Sell me this glass of water" (although that might be difficult if you've just used it to put out your previously on fire legs), that sort of thing. Surely the answers to those questions would at least be of more interest to the poor sod who has to be in charge of the interview.

Three [Red] Lights and You're Out

2006-06-17T19:06:00.000Z

My Xbox, that is. The last time I had a paddy on this blog about my Xbox, it turned out that it wasn't the computer that was at fault but was in fact the game. Well, not so much at fault, but it kinda juttered and stuttered and then finally worked and the problem didn't really occur again as I knew how to deal with it.

Today, my Xbox produced the dreaded three red lights. It'll be time to test the Xbox support network and see how good they are. No doubt, I'll deem them to be brilliant if it is returned and it works and terrible if they can't fix it. I'm positive it'll be the former rather than the latter. The only downside is (apart from not having a games console for the next 10 days to two weeks) is that I probably won't be able to send it off to Microsoft until Thursday because I'm in London on Tuesday and Wednesday and I'm the labels won't be emailed to me before then and once they are I have to arrange for the courier to pick it up.

It's a tough life.

Bizarre Dreams

2006-06-14T11:28:00.000Z

I don't particularly attribute meanings to dreams - they're just something that kind of happen every now and then and I've no idea why. I also don't normally recount them because they're either not suitable or uninteresting. Unfortunately, what follows falls into the latter section.

For whatever reason, in this dream, I had taken some fish around to a friend's house with the aim of giving them to his parents (whom I've never actually met). It was half a red-snapper and a whole trout. I had also taken with me a Walrus that I had knocked unconcious by punching it in the face when it was lolling about in some water somewhere. Unfortunately, by the time I'd given them the red-snapper and the trout (they were grateful for this unexpected gift) the walrus had regained consciousness and was not very happy that I had biffed him one on the nose and was trying to give him to stranger. The Walrus started growling and being rather aggressive in its behaviour. So, my friend, his parents and I ran into the house and rang the police to see what the law said about shooting a Walrus. Apparently, they don't appreciate it. Thankfully, we all avoided a mauling by placating the Walrus with the red-snapper and the trout.

That's it. I'm only mentioning it because I can remember it, but if dreams do mean anything, I'd love to know what that meant.

Pet Shop Boys and the World Cup?

2006-06-10T19:28:00.000Z

It's probably just my imagination, but I'm positive that after every match that is played at this year's World Cup, Go West by the Pet Shops Boys is pumped out over the tannoy-system. Actually, I'm not sure that is their song, more a piece of classical music that sounds suspiciously like it. I've looked on the t'internet and have failed to find enlightenment, apart from that the original was performed by Village People.

So, is it the Pet Shop Boys's song that is being played in stadia across Germany, is it the Village People original, or does everything derive from an earlier piece of classical music?

It wouldn't surprise me if it was the first of these options - the song is an absolute classic and if Right Said Fred can be a part of the opening ceremony then I think it's only fair the PSB get in on the act as well.

Update 14/06/06: Thanks to L.D. in the comments box who pointed me in the direction of this, and the relevant information therein:

Schlachtengesänge - Football chants Lit. Battle songs. As in Steh auf, wenn du für Deutschland bist, "Get up if you're supporting Germany", sung to the melody of "Go West" by the Pet Shop Boys.

Everything is now suddenly clear. Personally, I'm going to be singing the Pet Shop Boys version or just sing random nonsense, which is what I often do when I believe that no-one is around to hear me.

'Celebrity' Look-a-Likes II

2006-06-08T19:47:00.000Z

Can you tell them apart? Have you ever seen them in the same place at the same time? It's Cheryl Baker and Janelle Timmins from Neighbours.

I don't understand.

2006-06-08T08:03:00.000Z

Angelina Jolie's and Brad Pitt's child is called Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt and is a bouncing baby girl. According to Wikipedia,

Shiloh, according to a longstanding translation from the Bible, has come to mean "the peaceful one." (Although Shiloh (a Hebrew name) can also mean "Messiah" and Nouvel is French for "new", which means that the child's name could also translate to "New Messiah".)

All good and well. Except that I'm confused over the spelling of 'Nouvel'. Surely, being a girl-baby, is should be 'Nouvelle' and if it was of gentleman persusaion, 'Nouveau'? It is neither of these and I am perplexed as to why.

Like a Writ Out of Hell*

2006-06-06T12:05:00.000Z

Meat Loaf and Jim Steinman are fighting, but thankfully not in an Axl Rose and Tommy Hilfiger kind of way. I imagine that if Jim Steinman wins, and I reckon he probably should do, then Bat Out Of Hell III will either have to be postponed or renamed. Let's hope for the former as this way the abomination may never see the light of day.

To completely change the subject, I know I've been terribly lazy with my posting over the past however long, but I've been slaving away with medieval documents trying to find evidence to fit my crack-pot ideas. It's not going terribly well, but I'm sure if I keep struggling something will turn up. I'll update more frequently this week because as soon as the World Cup starts my entire social/academic life will cease to exist.

*this terrible pun was lifted straight from the BBC News website. I have no shame when it comes to stealing puns.

The Price of Childhood Idolatry

2006-06-04T11:10:00.000Z

Anyone know who knows the barest details about me and my life will invariably be aware that I won't hear a bad word said about Guns N' Roses. They were my 'first band' and thus I am obliged to love everything about them, even The Spaghetti Incident and the most expensive album that never was, Chinese Democracy. The primary object of my affection is Slash - I've learned many important things from him, primarily how brilliant Les Paul guitars are, that the pentatonic scale can used as the basis for every guitar solo covering four albums and still sound fresh and great and that it's a bit of a fashion faux pas to wear leather chaps over blue denim jeans.

To cut a potentially long story very short, I'm going to watch the incarnation of GNR in Newcastle in July. It's not a cheap adventure, the base price of tickets being £37.50, but I'd rather go, hate it and complain afterwards than not go and wish I had've gone. I missed out seeing them when they were at Leeds and I was reliably informed that if you closed your eyes it could've been them. Should nothing untoward happen and the gig goes ahead, a review will be forthcoming at the back-end of July.

The Monster Is Loose

2006-05-30T15:16:00.000Z

The monster of mediocrity. On October 31st 2006 Bat Out of Hell III: The Monster Is Loose is released. Normally this would be a cause for joyous celebration. Bat Out Of Hell is one of the greatest albums of all times. The reason for this is painfully simple – Jim Steinman knows his own strengths and weaknesses. He writes tip-top grandiose tunes but isn’t the world’s best singer. Meat Loaf, on the other hand, has a fine pair of lungs on him but can pen a decent song for, well, meat loaf. Put them together, working to their strengths and magic that is commonly described as ‘Wagnerian Rock’ happens.

Split them up or bring other people into the mix and the world as we know it collapses around us. Meat Loaf’s solo work without t’old Jim (as I imagine he likes to be called) is reprehensible. To be fair, t’old Jim’s work is actually quite good, especially when he is sensible to get someone else to sing them (i.e. Bonnie Tyler’s two finest moments, Holding Out For A Hero and Turn Around (Bright Eyes) were written by him).

Bat Out Of Hell III seems to be some horrible mish-mash of these situations. T’old Jim has contributed a couple of songs but is seemingly disassociating himself with the rest of it. And I can understand why. The first song to be released, The Monster Is Loose, is shite – it’s hackneyed hard rock with absolutely none of Steinman’s lyrical wit. Of course, this comes as no surprise when one finds out that Nikki Six from Motley Crew and John 5 (formerly guitarist with Marilyn Manson) are responsible for this monstrosity.

Meat Loaf, I’m disappointed in you.

Big Brother Gets Evil

2006-05-25T17:34:00.000Z

Well, not yet. But that is what I would say to the other housemates on the opening night should I have been the first person to enter the house. Why?

Because I would have shat in the oven.

Now that's television.

Γνώθι Σεαυτόν or how I became addicted to Big Brother. Again.

2006-05-24T19:43:00.000Z

I'll admit it to anyone who asks, be them Professor of the World or tramp in the street. I like Big Brother. I don't care whether it is performing a service for sociology or psychology and it doesn't bother me that every one in the house is doing it solely for the fleeting fame that will stalk them if they are lucky enough to last into the last couple of weeks.

I like it because it makes me feel good about myself. No matter how terrible things might be, or how dull I find my work, I know that things could always be worse. I could be on Big Brother surrounded by certifiable morons and lunatics, slowly losing my will to live and drowning in cheap wine and cider. I love the fact that within 5 minutes of the programme starting I'm shouting at the TV chastising someone for something pathetically trivial. I love shouting at the TV. In this respect, Big Brother overtakes Top Of The Pops as 'The TV Programme That I Shout At The Most'.

More than being a televisual form of prozac, it is pure entertainment. In the olden days people baited the poor, then bears and now we watch gormless idiots perform gormless tasks and hope that they have gormless sex/arguments with each other. Maybe that is why I've become so rapidly attracted to the programme - Shahbaz made what is usually a tentative first week fantastically exciting: crying, posturing, frankly startling monologues, a ker-razy Scottish accent, behaviour bordering on the insane and suicide threats. Within 4 days. That's why it's such a terrible shame he's walked. He could've been the star of the show. The other Housemates would have found him repellent and he would have been up for nomination every week, but I think the public would have kept him in there just to see what would happen next. Unlike Science from BB6, Shahbaz's obnoxiousness wasn't offensive (well, it is offensive. But not to me. And I don't think it's deliberately cruel. Well it might be. But...well, yes, dammit, he's a tit. And if I'd've been in the house, I'd probably have punched him by now.)

For those interested, the ancient Greek in the title is one of Shahbaz's favourite quotes, 'know thyself', which he attributes to Oscar Wilde. It's not particularly Wildean in flavour and that's because it's one of the 'famous oracular statements from Delphi'. Shahbaz should've Wiki'd it. I know about the verb 'to google' but does it yet exist for wikipedia?

The Rock's About To Roll

2006-05-22T08:49:00.000Z

I've returned from down south after a thoroughly enjoyable half-week or so and I can now honestly say that I've graduated - no longer do I have to tell fibs on job application forms.

Obviously, the highlight of everything was catching the end of Eurovision and seeing Lordi romp away with vitory. I now actually feel justified in my constant championing of them and that I've produced seventeen-or-so blog posts about them. My fondness of the band is actually to do with the music. The fact that my sitemeter ticker-thingy showed that loads of (well, some) people came to this blog after searching for Lordi and the lyrics to their song in no way influenced my constant wittering on about them or my linking to pages about them.

By the way, see the video to the winning song of 2006 Eurovision Song Contest here. Unfortunately, Bringing Back The Balls To Rock isn't quite as good. But they could play the theme tune to Postman Pat and I'd like it as long as they still had devices on the end of their guitars that fired out 4ft long jets of sparks.

Hanging on the telephone

2006-05-16T10:31:00.000Z

This morning, I experienced something completely new. A telephone interview. I'll not name companies or what job I'm applying for (just in case, in some bizarre and terribly unfortunate circumstance, they stumble across this humble blog and decide that they actually don't want this occasionally foul-mouthed person) but suffice to say that the chap at the end of the phone was very nice indeed - he made me feel as relaxed as possible before questioning me in a pleasant manner. I've no real idea how the actual interview went but to be honest I didn't really expect to get past the verbal reasoning and numeracy stage. So this was a bonus. I'm still not too much closer to getting a job because if I were to pass this stage of the proceedings I'd have to head on down to an Assessment Centre to be assessed, no doubt.

On an unrelated topic, this blog will be rather quiet until at least Monday because I've finally got my arse in gear and am finally graduating. Obviously, it's not a week long ceremony - I'm visiting friends as well. I'll make an empty promise and threaten to put some pictures up safe in the knowledge that I won't. But yes, that is what the next week holds for me: sleeping on a friend's floor, graduating, trying to remember how to drink again and completely forgetting that I have a thesis to be doing (I've no idea how it's actually progressing. My tutor reckons I'm doing well and seem to know a lot of stuff but I feel helplessly lost at times and think that my blagging skills are better than I realised. Soon enough we'll see who's right).

So long, farewell, and I'll si thee next week.

14.50 Update: I've just realised that I'm going to miss the Eurovision Song Contest! Alas and woe and dolor! So, all 4 of you who read this blog (and that's an optimistic estimate) make up for my absence by voting twice, nay three, nay four times for Lordi. See my earlier post for more information.

Straight Outta Compton

2006-05-09T08:13:00.000Z

Crazy muthafucker called Theo. Compton, Berkshire to be precise. To the point: is Sven a master-tactician or a terrible, booze-soaked gambler who is down to his last four fags and half a can of Kestrel Super Strength? I'm going to go with the latter, but try as I might, I really can't be angry with him.

Part of me is saying, 'Why not?' Part of me is also thinking that he's praying every night that Michael Owen is going to be fit and that Crouchy is going to do a Baros (be a terrribly mediocre striker in the league and then take a Euorpean/National tournament by storm). My worry is that Walcott will be our only out-and-out striker on the subs bench. Yes, he has bucketloads of pace but I'm not sure that that will be enough to see him through. I'd love to see me be wrong and for him to do a Owen/Rooney, but at least they had played in the Premiership before they had played for England.

The safe option would've been to drop Hargreaves (how he made the squad God only knows because I'm not sure Sven does) and take someone like Defoe or Bent, with the Charlton striker being my first choice. But then that minimises the scale of the gamble. And where's the fun in that? Sven doesn't really need to care about what people think or the press say - he's moving to pastures new after this jaunt in Germany. At worst, he'll be remembered for playing away from home with Faria Alam and presiding over an England team that failed to fulfil its potential. At best, his gamble will pay off, Walcott will be an instant star and he'll be the man who made all our dreams come true. He might as well take the risk because anything less than complete glory or a terrible injustice, i.e. Sol's disallowed goal against Argentina, and we'll pack his bags for him and shit in his pillowcases.

What a gamble, what a risk but what a (potential) pay-off.

Every Cloud...

2006-05-05T12:14:00.000Z

Tony Blair probably woke up this morning feeling a bit rough and thinking that today was going to be a tough one. By midday, Charlie Clarke and Prezza probably wished that they had stayed in bed. Big Sam is still wondering how McClaren got the job and the rest of us are trying to work out if Brian Barwick was serious when he claimed that McClaren was always their number 1 choice.

I'm not going to go into an indepth analysis of the local election results - I'll leave that to the budding psephologists. However, two things caught my attention. Firstly, and I was wondering how long it would take for this to happen,

A Sky News projection suggested that the Conservatives would have a 10-seat majority in the House of Commons if last night's figures were repeated in a general election

One hell of a big 'if' right there. I'll stick my neck on the line and say that come the next general election last night's figures won't be repeated. This may well be a truism, but surely local elections and by-elections have no bearing on general elections. In fact, people see them as a safe-way of showing their anger at the government without running the risking of having someone like Dave Cameron as PM.

And secondly, whilst the result last night may have been not overly great for Labour, some things never change:

The Tories came an embarrassing fourth to the Greens in Liverpool.

Quotes from here. Unsurprisingly, the Tuscany of the North, Barnsley, stayed firmly Labour.

Revolution has a name

2006-05-02T08:11:00.000Z

Very little that is new can be said about Nintendo's decision to name their new console Wii, both in terms of serious content and jokes.

I don't think Nintendo's marketshare will be affected by this name change - it will do about well as it was going to do, maybe slightly better if they can secure games that fully take advantage of the console's novel controller - but people will think it's a little silly. Furthermore, I can't envisage too many gamers falling for the obvious and slightly nonsensical advertising tosh on the website.

Wii sounds like 'we,' which emphasises that this console is for everyone...Wii has a distinctive 'ii' spelling that symbolizes both the unique contollers and the image of people gathering to play.

Wii sounds like 'wee', the thing that I do into a urinal/toilet several times a day which emphasises nothing but thinking about hot streams of steaming piss. Factor this in with the sheer amount of fun that already smug videogame shop assistants are going to have when people stroll in as ask if they can have a Wii and one can't help but think that this wasn't the greatest idea they ever had.

I'm going to stick with calling it Nintendo Revolution. And should I ever purchase one, I'm going to point at in the shop to indicate my desire to have it rather than utter its dark name.

Dott 18 - 14 Ebdon

2006-05-02T07:43:00.000Z

Apart from horseracing, I can watch all manner of sports and sport-that-aren't-quite-sports on TV, snooker included. In a way, I find it the most sport enjoyable to watch because I can usually work at the same time. I thought this year's final was enthralling (yes, even including the particularly slow first session) and was really pleased to see Dott win, for no other reason than the fact that he seems like such a nice chap.

However, what impressed me more than Dott's demeanour and his vital 68 break in the 31st frame was Peter Ebdon's response to the situation. He was the perfect loser - generous and kind in defeat, explaining his loss in terms of Graeme's ability.

'Graeme is tough, dogged and resilient and everything you would expect a world champion to be. He outplayed me for three sessions and some of his safety play was brilliant. He thoroughly deserves his victory'

Such sportsmanship was one of the highlights of the tournament.

Big Sam For England

2006-04-30T12:44:00.000Z

So Big Phil decided not to be England's next manager. Tis a shame. Yes, Brian Barwick et al probably messed up along the way and the press didn't help matters either but there's nothing we can do about it now. We just have to wait and see who will be appointed - and we should be finding out by the end of the week.

If I was in charge I would pick Big Sam out of the remaining candidates. I don't care what people say about his lack of European experience or Bolton's dodgy style of play. He's an excellent man motivator, tactically astute and incredibly thorough in his preparation for games. I've every confidence that he'd choose a style of play to fit the type of players that he has at his disposal. If that means the long-ball physical approach as generally typified by Bolton then so be it but if he had the calibre of players to pull off silky-smooth triangle passing and one-twos that would make Brazil weep then he would employ that style. In this respect, I believe he is much like Big Phil who said,

'You play with joy when you get the right result. How can you play with joy if you lose? Imagine if we go to the World Cup and play three wonderful games, all out of this world - and we don't qualify. What's the point in that? If we have to play ugly to reach the objective, we will play ugly.'

Most importantly, if England with Big Sam in charge found themselves 2-1 down to a 10-man Brazil team in the World Cup Quarter-Finals with 20 minutes left you'd be guaranteed he'd be on the touchline bawling at them to take the game to the opponents and encouraging them with all sorts of hand gestures and probably jingoistic slogans rather than being sat on the bench like a lost little boy.

Still, any hopes of doing well in the World Cup have been dashed by Rooney's injury. Nevermind, because come the 2008 European Championships we'll have almost exactly the same team but with one important improvement - no David Beckham.

Bargain of the Century

2006-04-28T16:59:00.000Z

People may think it's a little premature to proclaim that I have indeed discovered the bargain of the century. Those people would be wrong, because I found it, bought it and there is now only one copy of it left in the shop. The item in question is 'Soft Rock Anthems' that I managed to purchase for a mere £2.97 from Music Zone! Yes, be astounded! 38 songs, almost all of them great and it makes a fine driving album. All my softing-rocking dreams have been answered.

It includes such classics as:

Meat Loaf (with Cher): Dead Ringer For Love
Survivor: Eye Of The Tiger
Europe: The Final Countdown
Ram Jam: Black Betty
Boston: More Than A Feeling
Toto: Africa
Sparks: This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us

If anything appears in the next 94 years that is as bargainous as this, then I'll be tickled pink and dipped in tar.

England, England, England, England, England, England, England

2006-04-28T16:46:00.000Z

He's done it again - and I'm not on about El Jefe for providing another link that I'd missed. Justin Hawkins is truly a man having fun. He is living the dream. He's obviously got a recording studio/equipment in his basement and just records the sort of songs that he wants to hear. It just so happens that I want to hear them too. And this time he's produced a gem. It suitably titled England and it's a damn sight better than Embrace's turgid effort.

The Sweet Taste of Vindication...

2006-04-26T16:17:00.000Z

I love being right! There are few things better than thinking something might be the case and then being proved correct. Ideally, this would take place within the realm of academic work. I'm not sure how other historians approach their subject matter (at the moment calling myself a 'historian' doesn't seem right) but I work on hunches. I'll do a bit of reading and then 'feel' that something or other should be the reason that a particular event unfolded in the manner that it did. Sometimes I'm right, sometimes I'm wrong.

This time I'm right! But, unfortunately for my Masters course, it isn't in the realm of medieval history.

The subject is the Artic Monkeys - the best thing out of Sheffield since Pulp and steel. According to the critics, anyway. I always harboured, however, the feeling that they would not be able to repeatedly hit the highs that they did with the first album. Why should this be so? Because their selling point was Alex Turner's story-telling abilities and the semi-novel way he depicted life in Sheffield. When fame came a-knocking, the Artic Monkeys inevitably had to leave the North, go on tours and the like and they found themselves distanced from what had been their inspiration in the first place. Thus, they have nowt decent to write about and people get fed up pretty quickly of listening to pop/rock stars complaining about the life they have to life. I don't know about you, but every time that smug bastard Robbie Williams starts singing about how no one really understands him and how he's deeply troubled and can no longer find spiritual and emotional satisfaction in his material goods I want to kick the shit out of him.

Anyway, back to the AM. What brought this all up was the review of their new EP over at Pitchfork and the unfavourable comments. Unfortunately I made this prediction only to myself and thus people may not believe me when I try to lord my 'rightness' over them. However, a friend of mine made his feelings known publicly:

What's worse for them is that now they've been taken away from their natural habitat and placed on that lofty pedestal, all the things that make them interesting are going to be harder to replicate. The Sheffield nightlife will be a different place for them as the biggest band in the country. The one song about fame on their debut, 'Maybe vampires is a bit strong, but...' is far and away the worst moment of the album. Album number 2 is going to have the whole nation in baited breathe, and it's doubtful these young upstarts will have the mileage to replicate their current success.

Kudos for (seemingly) getting it oh so right oh so early. Again. I always said, normally when slightly worse-for-wear, that we should have been running Radio 1's Rock Show so we could tell people what music to like. Of course, he pointed out that they generally frown upon slander, gratuitous swearing and improper suggestions about the listeners' mothers. One day, my friends, one day.

Doffed Cap Rock Snob

Technology is a word that describes something that doesn't work yet

2006-04-26T15:42:00.000Z

[some of this post - probably most of it - simply regurgitates what I wrote in the comments box in the post below]

So much for my wonderful new time-consuming game. It started to go belly-up again. Rather than keep playing to find out what the problem was (i.e. was it the game or my Xbox, again) I managed to get back to Game before their rather silly and easy to abuse 'bring a new game back here within 10 days and we'll give you your money back without even asking questions' deal ran out. I still don't know whether it is the game or the xbox that was/is knackered. Depressingly not many other people seem to have had this problem. Yet my other game for the console is, so far and touchwood, working fine. No one knows the answer and it's so terribly infuriating!

To ease my tension, I've started making a nuisance of myself over at the SI forums with the other unfortunate few people who are suffering from the same problem. Hopefully an answer will be forthcoming from people in the know. Which do not include Microsoft, the lazy, lazy bastards. I thought I'd take advantage of their fabled excellent support service. Yes, they responded to my email very quickly. A little too quickly, in my opinion. And...they didn't answer any of my questions. They simply linked to several help pages about the game freezing and several inappropriate ones (by inappropriate I mean not relevant to the questions I was posing as distinct from hardcore pronography inappropriate). I'd already seen those pages, that was the whole point of my email.

Gah!

The only positive thing to come out of all this is that it appears that Microsoft have a very efficient repair service meaning that if my xbox is, once again, FUBAR'd then I can get them to do some work and fix it.

Easter - a time about death

2006-04-20T13:14:00.000Z

It's been a long time since I last posted - I was just getting into the swing of things with semi-regular, semi-interesting posts and then KABAM! I do nothing for about 10 days. Well not nothing. I went home over Easter and spent time there with my new toy, my new game for my new toy and a dial-up connection to the internet. I wish that completely explained my blogosphere absence but it doesn't. See, my new game didn't work on my new toy. So I exchanged the game and it still didn't work. I eventually, and sadly, concluded that my new toy was, for want of a better word, buggered. When Easter finally ended and capitalism kicked back in and the shops reopened, I managed to swap my faulty toy and get a new one. Everything is working fine now, touchwood, but I did lose 20 hours on Oblivion. If I come out of this Xbox reverie with my life the same as it was before, I'll be lucky.

It's been splashed all over the papers recently (I'm saying this because I can't find a link to it online, not that I've really gone beyond a cursory glance on bbc.co.uk/news) but the Queen ain't gonna leave the throne until she's dead or bumped off. She doesn't actually mention the second option, but it's implicit in the story. So, people of the world, we need to kill the Queen and the rest of the Royal Family. I've two written words and three spoken words for you: Edward II (See the quote attributed to Thomas More)

I do feel slightly happier that I've updated my blog, but a quick check of my sitemeter account suggests that I should leave it dormant in future. I blog every now and then and I occasionally get 4 people a day looking at my own corner of the 'net. I don't touch it for a week and a half and that number shoots up to 14! The intermaweb is indeed a strange beast.

Be-Jeebus

2006-04-10T17:53:00.000Z

I dislike Chris Martin and his particularly bland and soulless music. I have no real opinion of Gwyneth Paltrow as an actress. She's not the reason why I'd see a film, but her presence probably wouldn't stop me from seeing it either. The bigger question is why do celebrity parents insists on giving their children stupid names? First there was Brooklyn, then Romeo, then Cruz, Paris Hilton's name is a bit silly given that it's actually a man's name, and Apple, to give examples from but two famous families. The biggest sinner so far has got to be Paula Yates (R.I.P) who came up with the classic Fi-Fi Trixibell, Peaches, Little Pixie and Tiger Lily Heavenly Hirani. For a comprehensive list of stupid names, see here. The newest addition to this clan?

Fucking Moses.

Well, not the 'fucking' part, but I bet that's how all his friends will greet him in later life: 'Alright, Fuckin' Moses Martin?'. Not only has he a shit name, but the amount of jokes made at his expense will inevitably make him turn, at an early age, to fast drugs, liquor and hard women.

Maybe, however, Chris Martin's political leanings are showing through. Perhaps he feels guilty about the fact that his children will never have to want or struggle and ever go without and he's making up for this by giving them some pain in their lives.

Or maybe he's just a cunt.

Kids Nowadays...

2006-04-10T14:56:00.000Z

Kids nowadays. Grumble, grumble, grumble. When they're not drunk on cider hanging around street corners scaring grannies or throwing rocks onto the motorway killing hundreds, nay, thousands of innocent civilians, they're setting off the fire alarm in the building in which I live. Of course, it could have been a fire and the fire alarm, doing its job effectively, would have prevented me from suffering a burny death. But there wasn't really a fire. It was an almost fire. Some bright spark thought it hilarious to turn on all four of the oven rings in the common room (I think it's a little excessive to have a kitchen attached to the common room that actually has a functioning oven given that every flat in the building has its own oven, but what do I know?) and the resulting heat/smoke set off the alarms.

I'm sure that with a dedicated, fierce and relentless Spanish Inquistion-style torture/questioning campaign the perp. (actual police lingo there) of this terrible crime could be caught. No doubt the residents will think my methods to be over-the-top and downright illegal, but I get results. And seeing as to get access to the oven in the common room one actually needs to have a key and funky-swipe-oval-button-thing (you'd understand if you could see it), the little bastard responsible must live in the building. Of course, the non-fire could have been not started by an adult but my methods are equally effective against the older person.

Both, y'see, would be sent to Doncaster. If God resided on earth it would be here, where the scandal that ran right through the heart of the council was referred to as 'Donnygate' and the local prison is affectionately known as 'Doncatraz'. Once there, they would be sent to the Doncaster Dome to test how well trained its employees are in the newly instigated Leisurewatch initiative. Admittedly, depending on who I sent there would depend on what results I would prefer. If it was the kiddies, then I would have to hope that the staff were slack. That way their little kiddie brains would constantly be wondering if a dirty old man or woman was watching them and they'd be petrified when someone asked them if they wanted to stroke their underwater trouser angel. This fear would make the culprit confess so they could leave the Swimming Pool of Indecent Exposure and Troubled Nightmares.

Obviously, if it were the adults who were sent there, I'd hope that the staff were on tip-top form. Just to aid those who have the misfortune of working at Doncaster's finest swimming and leisure emporium, I'd make the suspects wear raincoats fitted with speakers that broadcasted in a loud and clear voice, 'Come here small child and see what's in my pockets. I want to show you my secret chinchilla away from the glaring and piercing eyes of the lifeguards and your parents'. The prospect of the terrible shame of being pigeon-holed with the likes of Gary Glittler would invariably shame the culprit into revealing their true identity.

Coping with loss

2006-04-06T10:13:00.000Z

I'm normally the first to laugh at things that are generally considered to be distasteful. I'm not sure whether I actually find such things funny or because it's my way of coping with it. It's probably the former. Anyway, SomethingAwful link to this site, which deals with babies who are born with anencephaly. It's not particularly nice (the FAQ notes that 'a child with anencephaly is indeed born without a scalp, without a vault of the cranium, without meninges, without either brain hemisphere and without a cerebellum, the child is nevertheless usually born with part of its cerebral trunk, brainstem. Many children with an anencephaly die during delivery. The life expectancy of those who survive is only a few hours or days') and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I'm slightly dubious of the advice about taking pictures of, in their words, 'your deceased or dying baby'. I can understand the rationale behind it, and maybe if I was in that position I'd feel differently, but it seems a little macabre to me.

One of the problems of photographing stillborns is that the child is often damaged. To get around this problem they suggest visiting this website, which can digitally correct much of the image. Looking at the 'after and before' gallery highlights what a good job is done. What is unfortunate, especially in relation to anencephaly, is the subtitle of the company/service:

'Recover a Little Bit of What Was Lost'

Diving into Oblivion

2006-04-05T18:47:00.000Z

I cravenly gave into my deep, deep urges. I went out and bought Oblivion. What this means is that I have voluntarily decided to leave reality to other people. For the time being the real world is useless to me. Who needs it when on my TV screen I have the (almost) real thing staring back at me? Admittedly, Durham doesn't even have many flame-wielding imps or necromancers. If, however, I find out that it does, I'll whip out my trusty fine steel longsword and beat them until they are no more.

This is what I've descended to. Descended into. The whole game-world is incredibly immersive (possible the word most used when describing this game) and I've spent 10 hours playing without touching the main quest. I've even resisted the temptation to start again with a different character. This is my biggest weakness with RPG games - I get several hours into them and then I realise that my character could do with a slight retune, and promptly start again thus meaning that I never really get into the game. Not this time though, oh no! I'm about to take on some rather mean Ogres and probably drink some potions. Interesting stuff that generally makes me popular with people. Unfortunately, not real life people.

What is slightly annoying is the news that Bethesda have released a mod/patch that allows one to buy armour for one's horse over Xbox Live Marketplace. Quite a sensible thing, given the fact that wolves and nasty things often try to attack them. However, one is expected to pay for this, and for all future content that is being released. And it is going to be released. What is a pain in the arse, apart from the fact that Durham University's network won't let me connect to Xbox Live for reasons that my technically incompetent brain cannot understand, is the fact that I've just spent £50 on the game. Yes, paying £1.70 or however much for the download is isn't going to completely bankrupt me, but they obviously knew about this and could have easily included it in the game. I'm not going to say that we're on the slippery slope to ruin and that we're going to end up with shells of games being released and then being forced to buy content. I just think that Bethesda could have made this available to download for free and then offered more substantial content (extra quests/powers etc) at a later date for money. The horse armour could have been a sort of goodwill gesture.

I do think, like any rational, sane person, that the idea of downloadable content for games is great. I also know that this isn't new, especially for PC users, but I'm behind with the times, a console boy and am lucky if my computer switches on in the morning. I'm interested in seeing how Football Manager 2006 for the Xbox360 deals with downloadable content. Will they periodically release patches that include all the latest transfers and how much will they charge for it? One thing is certain, if Oblivion is making me waste away the precious hours of my life, Football Manager is going to make sure that I need someone to remind me to eat and go to the toilet.

2006-04-03T15:48:00.000Z

I'd been looking forward to the end of term since it began but after a week sat on my arse doing nothing in particular I'm seriously bored. I'm even contemplating starting work to give me something to pass the time. Still, I'd rather be in this position with the choice to sit around doing nothing than being forced to work.

What I should've have done is use this week off to view, from a great height, news, music, sport and lots of other things that have taken place in order to produce several witty and incisive blogposts. Pshaw to that, that's what I say! The best I can come up with is this:

Cambridge blame water for defeat. A-boo-hoo. They should just admit that they were whooped by a better crew and that the Oxford cox had better tactics. When the commentator said that the Tabs didn't have pumps on their boat, I was hoping for a repeat of 1978. Alas, that wasn't to be.

When I'm all alone, I often compare myself to a professional rower. By this I mean that I like to eat lots and lots of food (I don't like the excercise bit and therefore don't do it). So, for a lovely Sausage, Duck and Pork Cassoulet, click the link. However, be warned. Food that contains such a vast quantity of beans/lentils/pulses generally makes one windy. Oh yes. After this meal (and it is indeed fine) you and your significant other can duel to the death in that most lethal of family games: fart tennis. Enjoy.

Kind Advice From Braun

2006-03-31T21:47:00.000Z

Not content with providing detailed instructions in many languages on how to chop, whisk and blend with their Braun Multiquick, this household's newest purchase, they also advise me on how best to please a lady (not using aforementioned Multiquick, as that would probably be slightly painful):

Clearly, given the shoddy quality of the photograph, the next newest purchase of this household should surely be a digital camera. Please send cheques and loose change to the usual address.

Lame Ducks Need Shooting Not Nursing Back To Health and Popularity

2006-03-28T10:25:00.000Z

The lame duck in question is Embrace. After a thoroughly mediocre career sometime in the late-1990s peaking with the ummemorable tripe that was Come Back To What You Know, it appears that they are now semi-fashionable! They're even singing England's World Cup song. No No No No!

The public, often wrong but in this case right, had spoken. They were bored of them and they were rightly dropped from their label. Shock-horror, some of them, in order to look after their families, had to get real jobs. Oh dolor. Then that smug bastard Chris 'I'd be as unbearable as Bono and Paul McCartney if I'd had slightly more practice' Martin went and wrote them a song and their fortunes were revived. Once more, dolor!

Now they're the toast of the town. Well, not quite, but still more famous than they were and are back pumping their viscous dirge into the already polluted mainstream. When I read that the lead singer was on beta blockers for his heart problem and that too much stress or adrenalin might kill him, I thought that the end might be in sight. I then remembered that this was Embrace and the chance of him actually being excited or having adrenalin coursing through his veins whilst performing is precisely nil.

Let's hope he has fantastically exciting wanks instead.

'On the day of Rockening...'

2006-03-23T13:55:00.000Z

My faith in the Eurovision song contest has been restored. And no, I'm not referring to Britain's wank entry about how brill school days were or something (all the more dodgy as the fella singing appears to be about 37). It is the mighty Finland who are bringing some credibility back to the competition. Their entrant is Lordi, a hard-rock group who dress up like monsters and sing about great things. Their Eurovision song is wonderfully entitled Hard Rock Hallelujah and sounds pretty much like you think it does.

The song itself is almost perfection. It has the cheesy title (although this one isn't as good as the 2004 B-side, Wake the Snake), the dodgy lyrics, the melodic chorus, the riff that sounds like it was written in about 1987 and comes from Poison or Whitesnake, gentle orchestration blatantly coming from a keyboard and the occasional falsetto vocal. The only thing that it is missing is a guitar solo that makes your face melt.

Listen to the song here and sing along.

Rock 'n roll angels bring thine hard rock hallelujah
Demons and angels all in one have arrived
Rock 'n roll angels bring thine hard rock hallelujah
In God's creation supernatural high

Remember, VOTE FOR FINLAND!

16,000 words down, 20,000 to go...

2006-03-23T13:32:00.000Z

It's the end of term tomorrow - two copies of my two pieces of work have to be handed in and then I am free for a whole month! And my plans for that time? Precisely sod all. I intend to arse about, watch TV, waste time on the computer and occasionally prevent the flat from looking like a bomb-site. The chances are I will blog even more infrequently than I already do, but I can live with that.

Then, after a stress-free Easter (I love Cadbury's creme eggs, they are delicious)I shall be diving, head first, into what I've been waiting for and the main point of this Masters course: the 20,000 word thesis. I've a rough idea of a title and topic of study - it's still to do with seals - and I imagine it will pass the time if nothing else.

Looking even further into the misty clouds of the future, I've no idea what'll happen. Assuming I don't get funding for wasting another three years of my life, I'll have to get a job. How terribly dull. Still, mustn't let this get me down, things could be a lot worse. The whole planet could end in a particularly nasty way, or the human race could be wiped out in five years thanks to some horrifically virulent virus. Oh bugger. It's starting.

Will.I.Am a Fan of Classic British Sitcom?

2006-03-19T20:11:00.000Z

The flow of cultural influence between the US and the UK, rather tritely, ebbs and flows. If it's not the UK importing with abandon their musical tastes or their gritty dramas, then it the US producing a bastardised version of The Office or thinking that Stan Collymore might be a decent actor. We see something, we like it, we use it and then make a poor imitation of it.

Will.I.Am is obviously a fan of British sitcom/classic TV gameshows. How does he makes this known? By writing several episodes for Blankety Blank. Alas, when he was told that Les Dawson was dead, Lily Savage was in retirement (Paul O'Grady is still going strong, but she seems to have bitten the dust) and that the gameshow was no more, he turned his work into a smash-hit song with the reprehensible Pussycat Dolls:

It's funny how a man only thinks about the ________
You got a real big heart, but I'm looking at your _______
You got real big brains, but I'm looking at your _______
I don't give a _______ keep lookin' at my _______

Remember now, the clue is in the question! Although I think everyone is probably staring at the lead singer's rather obvious and deeply unpleasant nosejob.

2006-03-16T11:18:00.000Z

Patient's healthy kidney removed.

Oops.

Something to warm the cockles

2006-03-13T17:55:00.000Z

It's bastard cold at the moment - on the way home this evening I was hit by hailstones. If it's not the end of the world, then I'll probably rejoice. But I won't be surprised if it is. In order to keep the dedicated masses who read this blog warm, happy and full, here is a recipe that is lovely and full of goodness.

Pot Roast Chicken in Garlic, White Wine and Parsley

Ingredients

150g shallots, finely chopped
2 bulbs (oh yes) of normal garlic, chopped
Butter
150g pancetta or streaky bacon, cut into strips
a whole chicken, about 1.5kg
Brandy, a generous glass
Half a bottle of white wine
500ml of chicken stock
Bouquet garni (one I imagine)
142ml double cream
small bunch of parsley leave, chopped

Method

1) Heat the oven to 150C/fan 130C/gas 2. Cook the shallots and garlic in a large casserole with 1 tbsp butter until softened. Add the pancetta and cook until the shallots being to caramelise.

2) Meanwhile, melt 1 tbsp of butter in a large, deep frying pan and brown the chicken on all sides, then put it into the casserole, on top of the shallots. Pour the brandy into the hot frying pan and allow to bubble up, stirring and scraping. Put a lighted match to the brandy and stand back while it flames up and burns off your eyebrows. When the flames have subsided, add the wine and bring to the boil, then pour the liquid over the chicken. Add the stock and tuck in the bouquet garni. Cover and cook for 1 hour in the oven, or until cooked through.

3) Remove the chicken from the casserole, cut into 8 portions and keep warm. Simmer the cooking liquor until reduced by two thirds, then add the cream and parsley. Return the chicken to the pan to heat through. Serve in deep bowls with mashed potato.

It is indeed grand. However, given our precise circumstances, we didn't follow the recipe to the letter. As we had no casserole dish, we had to make do with a saute pan. So that the chicken would fit in it, we jointed it and then realised that we had no room for the stock. Nevermind, we didn't use it, and it still tasted great. We also didn't use brandy (we only have cooking-sherry. That's cooking-sherry, not drinking-sherry, which cannot legally be sold to people under the age of 63) and it still worked! So feel free to mess about with the recipe a bit.

I also should insist that everyone buys Olive magazine, because they were the excellent people who created such a recipe. Well, if they didn't create it, they published. So kudos to them.

What's in a name?

2006-03-12T16:12:00.000Z

It's old hat the Raymond van Barneveld jumped ship and left the BDO to join the PDC. The reason? Well, officially, he wants to play Phil 'The Power' Taylor week in week out and prove himself by (probably) getting whooped everytime they meet. Unofficially, he wants all the extra money that the PDC offers.

More bizarrely, it appears as if Barneveld has gone through a name change. Previously, in BDO days, he was always known as (something like) Raymond 'Barney' van Barneveld. It's a catchy play on his name and it means he can wear the popular cartoon character on his shirts. Even his website address is http://www.barney.nl.

However, now that he is a member of the PDC, 'Barney' just ain't good enough. Oh no. He's now, some variation of, Raymond 'The Man' van Barneveld! Oh yes! No idea why this should be the case, although Wikipedia are aware of the change. I just wonder whether this was done because he wanted to distance himself from his former career as BDO champion or because he was told that he needed a makeover by the (possibly sinister) PDC bigwigs. If it was for the former reason, then that's fine, if for the latter, then boo hiss.

What would my darts nickname be? That's easy - The Yellow Dart.

Romanes Eunt Domus

2006-03-10T10:59:00.000Z

Yes, this is hardly new but it's a classic, it still tickles my funny bone and has new relevance for me seeing as I've spent (and will probably continue to spend) a fair few month learning Latin. *Ahem* From Monty Python's Life of Brian:

Centurion: What's this, then? 'Romanes Eunt Domus'? 'People called Romanes they go the house'?
Brian: It-- it says, 'Romans, go home'.
Centurion: No, it doesn't. What's Latin for 'Roman'? Come on!
Brian: Aah!
Centurion: Come on!
Brian: 'R-- Romanus'?
Centurion: Goes like...?
Brian: 'Annus'?
Centurion: Vocative plural of 'annus' is...?
Brian: Eh. 'Anni'?
Centurion: 'Romani'. 'Eunt'? What is 'eunt'?
Brian: 'Go'. Let--
Centurion: Conjugate the verb 'to go'.
Brian: Uh. 'Ire'. Uh, 'eo'. 'Is'. 'It'. 'Imus'. 'Itis'. 'Eunt'.
Centurion: So 'eunt' is...?
Brian: Ah, huh, third person plural, uh, present indicative. Uh, 'they go'.
Centurion: But 'Romans, go home' is an order, so you must use the...?
Brian: The... imperative!
Centurion: Which is...?
Brian: Umm! Oh. Oh. Um, 'i'. 'I'!
Centurion: How many Romans?
Brian: Ah! 'I'-- Plural. Plural. 'Ite'. 'Ite'.
Centurion: 'Ite'.
Brian: Ah. Eh.
Centurion: 'Domus'?
Brian: Eh.
Centurion: Nominative?
Brian: Oh.
Centurion: 'Go home'? This is motion towards. Isn't it, boy?
Brian: Ah. Ah, dative, sir! Ahh! No, not dative! Not the dative, sir! No! Ah! Oh, the... accusative! Accusative! Ah! 'Domum', sir! 'Ad domum'! Ah! Oooh! Ah!
Centurion: Except that 'domus' takes the...?
Brian: The locative, sir!
Centurion: Which is...?!
Brian: 'Domum'.
Centurion: 'Domum'.
Brian: Aaah! Ah.
Centurion: 'Um'. Understand?
Brian: Yes, sir.
Centurion: Now, write it out a hundred times.
Brian: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Hail Caesar, sir.
Centurion: Hail Caesar. If it's not done by sunrise, I'll cut your balls off.
Brian: Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you, sir. Hail Caesar and everything, sir!

You, sire, are a sheep-worrier!

2006-03-08T16:55:00.000Z

At the end of April, 1270, in the manor of Halesowen, William Modi was fined the rather expensive total of 12d. because his dogs had been found guilty of sheep worrying.* Looking through some archives,** I managed to find a picture of the sheep-worrier:

I don't care what was decided 736 years ago, that cute little thing couldn't have worried a sheep if it tried! A particularly timid mouse would no doubt stop being scared for a little while and go, 'Awww, how cute, do you fancy frolicing in a field?'. This was no doubt one of many terrible injustices that the tenants of Halesowen suffered at the hands of the abbots.

Update: It turns out that sheep-worrying is actually more serious than I first thought - in 2003 sheep-worrying dogs were liable to be shot. I originally thought sheep-worrying involved a dog sidling upto a sheep and suggesting worrying things, like that it's lady-sheep friend might not like him so much, that the philosophical system on which he bases his entire life is epistemologically flawed or that come winter he's going to be slaughtered for food.

Once more, another one of my illusions has been shattered.

* Zvi Razi, 'The Abbots of Halesowen and their Tenants', Social Relations and Ideas: Essays in Honour of R.H. Hilton, eds T.H. Aston, P.R. Coss, C. Dyer & J. Thirsk, (CUP, 1983) p. 156

** Well, Google image search. And the phrase entered wasn't entirely specific to the case cited above. It merely said 'shar pei'.