| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Have you got Skype?
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The MOD media machine - great taxpayer value
A British hero. Employed by a bunch of zeros. More lions and donkeys
One of those facts which complete floors me was casually announced without any further reference on Radio 4's "Today" program.
The Ministry of Defence employs 400 people engaged in media and/or PR.
This in itself seems quite a lot. There are, after all, only 650 MPs serving the interests (I use the word with great caution) of the country - no seriously, they're not just self serving expense-monkeys. Perhaps.
400 people? I presume some of these are quite well paid, and would, if employed within other industries, be regarded as experts.
So why is then that the MOD can hardly run its own affairs, let alone publicise or promote them with anything other than a shame faced bleat that makes me cringe.
Quite frankly, if this is the best they can do with 400 people (some of who I guess are paid to obscure or block news), then really, they need to try harder. Even the news which is obfuscated tends to find its way into the public domain at some point.
As my sis Ab would say, "what a complete shower".
As I wold say too many cooks, say, around 350 too many?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
In remembrance of Saint Kizzie (the dog)
Nicki the guide dog's predecessor, Kizzie, died in January, but we only found this out, by accident, yesterday.
Kizzie, or Kizz, Kizzer, Frizante, Zig Zag Wag, Zigger, Miss Dogg, Mrs Tubington - a panopoly of names - was a very good dog indeed, both a laid back guide dog and a furry ball of friendliness to have around the house. Never in yer face, but always affectionate and happy to be cuddled. She was as much my pet as Mrs D's mobility tool and though I hate the use the word in relation to a dog, friend.
She had oodles of personality, once jumping in between The Wife and I during a pre-marriage quarrel. A few years after this, we re-united after some time away in Ireland, at Heathrow, and while we both hugged our greetings at the baggage reclaim exit, Kizzie waited, until, with a huge degree of constanation, let a most put-out sounding whine - almost a squawk: "COME ON - WHERE'S MY SNOG?"
Some things Kizzie was infamous for:
- Crossing her paws while lying on her tummy - very "lady-like".
- Making very grumpy huffing sounds when she'd had enough of anything.
- Having her nose close to the ground, even when on the harness, a habit which we never managed to fully break.
- Being the only dog I would ever trust to walk without the lead, even when close to busy roadds. Even with me, she was incredibly responsive and careful.
- Eating and wishing to eat.
- Testing the boundaries of the pecking order by taking a dump in tube stations, even after she'd had one recently. Despite what The Wife says, I feel this to be a deliberate ploy rather than accidental. The time interval between craps was always between 6-7 months.
- Not coming back. Her walking skills were great, her recall was, lets be frank here, fucking dreadful.
We know than because she was the most helpful and useful of dogs, she can only be reincarnated as an elephant, the most noble and more importantly LARGE beast going.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Mike Allen - Alan Partridge's doppelganger, hip hop god
One of my heroes from tennyhood was old. I mean, actually older than my dad - he was born in 1942. He looked like Alan Partridge. He even SOUNDED like Alan Patridge. He was a DJ, who like Partridge, came on at night. So you can tell, it wasn't John Peel - he came later. This man was white, but played mostly black music. A dancer he was not, although most of the music he played was dance orientated.
What David Rodigan was to promoting reggae, Mike Allen was to early hip-hop. I was in my mid teens, and my parents taste in TV, bad even then, meant that my solace on Saturday nights, and later on Sundays, was my shitty little Sonatel clock radio cassette. Armed with fresh, or more likely, much recorded over TDK D-90, my fingers would hover over the record button waiting for the mad, incredibly creative world of mid 80s hip hop and electro.
A number of thoughts spring to mind.
1. He may have been at least two decades older than his audience, he was genuinely and highly respected in the hip-hop world. Really, how on earth did it happen? It was like having your favourite, subversive uncle round on a Sunday, one armed with a massive and intersting record collection. He'd make your dad seem a saddo and everything was offered with a knowing wink which said "we know your old lot can't help it - but come on boy, let's spin the next Roxanne record to get your ears into".
2. How did Capital Radio go from being a station which was almost public service broadcast quality in its range of programming. Saturday nights as I rembered it:
1800 Greg Edwards' Soul Spectrum - soul and jazz-funk.
2000 David Rodigan - reggae and lovers' rock
2200 Mike Allen - hip hop
Now, at this point, you could say that we have a particularly "black music" agenda here. Music whose fans might have been made up of three sets of fans, but there's a commonality of race. Here's the banger though; the next one was...
Brian Rust - playing gramaphone and big band tracks
SAY WHAT!?
This had a massive impact in my musical choices believe it or not. By the time my finger had hit the record button for the last time, it was midnight. And that meant I was usually ready for bed. And of course, since the radio was on, I'd actually just whack the sleep button and carry on listening to Brian Rust and his collection of scratchy 78s. Very eclectic and no effort on my part other than the maintenance of a keen interest in just about everything requiring a beat or a stave.
When and why did Crapital lose its eclecticism? I've not listened to it for decades.
3. Its sad that Mike's natural heir on the radio. Tim Westwood has such a wanky voice. I wasn't actually interested in the music so much in my late teens. It had come a lot more political, shouted at me, told me what to think and wasn't a bunch of posturing funsters bopping along to an Art of Noise styel soundtrack. I like it much more now.
I missed Mike Allen immensely, in fact I could barely believe it when his show was pulled.
Allen wasn't hip. He wore ties. He looked like your dad. He presented the "housewives show" in the afternoon mid-week. The idea that your mum could enjoy him as much as you did on Saturdays was a bit weird, slightly disturbing even. But fuck me, did he know his stuff? Did he love the music? I've no doubt about it. Did the kids respect him? Abso-bloody-lutely. Could he be employed to do this today? Not on your frigging nellie. How very, very sad and what a brutal indication that we've kissed goodbye to the enthusiastic amateur. Now we'd have some hip with the kids arsehole airhead who knows nothing about the music apart from what his musical advisor briefed him on pre-show.
I regard myself as truly blessed having grown up with this show. My suburban childhood in Hayes was pretty dull by many people's standards, but nevertheless, it was a GOOD childhood. Likewise, I was bespectacled, white and not your hip hop stereotype. In fact, genuine b-boys would have kicked my head in. Allowing myself to be taken out of my world of school and a safe, loving West London home into the grafitti-smeared environs of Harlam, South(south) Bronx, and LA was almost like an adventure to ancient Persia or Timbuktu.
I've a lot of thank you for, Mike.
Much respect.
What David Rodigan was to promoting reggae, Mike Allen was to early hip-hop. I was in my mid teens, and my parents taste in TV, bad even then, meant that my solace on Saturday nights, and later on Sundays, was my shitty little Sonatel clock radio cassette. Armed with fresh, or more likely, much recorded over TDK D-90, my fingers would hover over the record button waiting for the mad, incredibly creative world of mid 80s hip hop and electro.
A number of thoughts spring to mind.
1. He may have been at least two decades older than his audience, he was genuinely and highly respected in the hip-hop world. Really, how on earth did it happen? It was like having your favourite, subversive uncle round on a Sunday, one armed with a massive and intersting record collection. He'd make your dad seem a saddo and everything was offered with a knowing wink which said "we know your old lot can't help it - but come on boy, let's spin the next Roxanne record to get your ears into".
2. How did Capital Radio go from being a station which was almost public service broadcast quality in its range of programming. Saturday nights as I rembered it:
1800 Greg Edwards' Soul Spectrum - soul and jazz-funk.
2000 David Rodigan - reggae and lovers' rock
2200 Mike Allen - hip hop
Now, at this point, you could say that we have a particularly "black music" agenda here. Music whose fans might have been made up of three sets of fans, but there's a commonality of race. Here's the banger though; the next one was...
Brian Rust - playing gramaphone and big band tracks
SAY WHAT!?
This had a massive impact in my musical choices believe it or not. By the time my finger had hit the record button for the last time, it was midnight. And that meant I was usually ready for bed. And of course, since the radio was on, I'd actually just whack the sleep button and carry on listening to Brian Rust and his collection of scratchy 78s. Very eclectic and no effort on my part other than the maintenance of a keen interest in just about everything requiring a beat or a stave.
When and why did Crapital lose its eclecticism? I've not listened to it for decades.
3. Its sad that Mike's natural heir on the radio. Tim Westwood has such a wanky voice. I wasn't actually interested in the music so much in my late teens. It had come a lot more political, shouted at me, told me what to think and wasn't a bunch of posturing funsters bopping along to an Art of Noise styel soundtrack. I like it much more now.
I missed Mike Allen immensely, in fact I could barely believe it when his show was pulled.
Allen wasn't hip. He wore ties. He looked like your dad. He presented the "housewives show" in the afternoon mid-week. The idea that your mum could enjoy him as much as you did on Saturdays was a bit weird, slightly disturbing even. But fuck me, did he know his stuff? Did he love the music? I've no doubt about it. Did the kids respect him? Abso-bloody-lutely. Could he be employed to do this today? Not on your frigging nellie. How very, very sad and what a brutal indication that we've kissed goodbye to the enthusiastic amateur. Now we'd have some hip with the kids arsehole airhead who knows nothing about the music apart from what his musical advisor briefed him on pre-show.
I regard myself as truly blessed having grown up with this show. My suburban childhood in Hayes was pretty dull by many people's standards, but nevertheless, it was a GOOD childhood. Likewise, I was bespectacled, white and not your hip hop stereotype. In fact, genuine b-boys would have kicked my head in. Allowing myself to be taken out of my world of school and a safe, loving West London home into the grafitti-smeared environs of Harlam, South(south) Bronx, and LA was almost like an adventure to ancient Persia or Timbuktu.
I've a lot of thank you for, Mike.
Much respect.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Tower Block of Commons, Channel 4
I'm not sure what planet Channel 4 have been on over the last few years. Their programs have become progressively worse, to the point where I can barely watch them. Shame, because in the 80s, they made some of the best TV in the world. The Tube, programs about (shock! horror!) gays, lesbians, black people. Wowza. Then it all went to rat-shit.
However, I have been impressed with the first programme in a series called Tower Block of Commons. It works like this.
"At 666 there lives a Mr Miller, he's a local vicar and a serial killer"...
Four MPs leave the comfort of their own homes (which are mostly rather posh, as you'd imagine since we've paid for most of them, sometimes twice) and live with the peasantry in their tower blocks. One of these tower blocks is a hop, skip and jump from my home. Taken out of their natural environment, needing to deal with such exotic tasks as shopping, dealing with a deficit of cash and an excess of time, the MPs seem to be able be required to cope with two things.
1. To get a feel for what it's like for the majority of us on the other side of the tracks.
2. To talk to said people and discover what life is like from their point of view, and even, in the case of Mark Oaten, to actually do something about the problems they face.
Much has been said about the petulant behaviour of these MPs, so I shan't go there again. Though, I do have to single out Austin Mitchell, who came across as a completely alienated twit, unable to empathise with his host (who seems to have been kicked out her flat especially so that Mitchell and spouse can move in for a few weeks), and I would imagine, the majority of his constituency of great Grimsby.
Oaten, seems to have borne the brunt of mockery aimed at him from the British press, and some of the more vocal youths of Dagenham, but, I think it is he who has come out of this rather well, after what appeared to be only major traumatic event for him (some kids said, rather nastily, that he may have AIDS - he is gay, and the comment was childish).
I'm not sure what the technical word is, so let's call them innkeepers. Out of all of the innkeepers, Cathy, typical of many of my neighbours, comes across rather well. Streetwise, kind, but more than a little depressed at the way things have turned out for her. I can understand why she is depressed. I work about 15 minutes walk away from her block of flats, and from the outside they look tidy enough, though right on the edge of the A13 motorway, so hardly in the beautiful surroundings. It is the disgusting state in which she is forced to live: with mould on walls and window sills, that would weigh you down. Why hasn't the council cleaned this up. I would suggest in most cases that the residents take some responsibliy here, but this is a systemic problem through the whole block; a specialist job and one way beyond the financial means of most people, let alone council flat dwellers, many of whom I know in this estate, are on benefits (I was told it was about 80 percent).
I was expecting this program to, do as other TV documentaries featuring ordinary people tend to do, which is patronise them. Sorry, that actually shouldn't say, I forgot myself for a sec. It must be quite a difficult job for Channel 4 executives. On one hand you have a group of individuals, MPs, nearly universally hated in this country right now, due to their greed and incompetence and in Blair's case lies. On the other hand you have a group of people to whom over the last few years their only purpose has been to serve as an increasingly large target for sponges. Basically, anyone who is not part of the Hamstead media set is potential fair game.
It must have been an almost impossible task not just to let it all blow and and head straight for the Roget's thesaurus in order to find suitably sarcastic terms for all of us. But somehow, the program was, I feel as balanced as a piece of reality TV could be. Contrived to some extent, yes, patronising, yes again, but less than I thought could be possible. And neither all the peasantry featured, nor all the MPs came out looking like buffoons either.
And I feel, that in the same way Susan Boyle has become a minor celebrity despite her obviously non-sleb cred, Cathy may also be the new voice of ordinary Britain. If she hasn't got a TV show of her own by December, I'll be very surprised. She would make a very good working class version of Anna Widdecombe - the voice of reason, given to you by your best friend's mum rather than by your warty great aunt Matilda. Watch this space
Tower block of Commons is on Channel 4, Monday, at 2100.
However, I have been impressed with the first programme in a series called Tower Block of Commons. It works like this.
"At 666 there lives a Mr Miller, he's a local vicar and a serial killer"...
Four MPs leave the comfort of their own homes (which are mostly rather posh, as you'd imagine since we've paid for most of them, sometimes twice) and live with the peasantry in their tower blocks. One of these tower blocks is a hop, skip and jump from my home. Taken out of their natural environment, needing to deal with such exotic tasks as shopping, dealing with a deficit of cash and an excess of time, the MPs seem to be able be required to cope with two things.
1. To get a feel for what it's like for the majority of us on the other side of the tracks.
2. To talk to said people and discover what life is like from their point of view, and even, in the case of Mark Oaten, to actually do something about the problems they face.
Much has been said about the petulant behaviour of these MPs, so I shan't go there again. Though, I do have to single out Austin Mitchell, who came across as a completely alienated twit, unable to empathise with his host (who seems to have been kicked out her flat especially so that Mitchell and spouse can move in for a few weeks), and I would imagine, the majority of his constituency of great Grimsby.
Oaten, seems to have borne the brunt of mockery aimed at him from the British press, and some of the more vocal youths of Dagenham, but, I think it is he who has come out of this rather well, after what appeared to be only major traumatic event for him (some kids said, rather nastily, that he may have AIDS - he is gay, and the comment was childish).
I'm not sure what the technical word is, so let's call them innkeepers. Out of all of the innkeepers, Cathy, typical of many of my neighbours, comes across rather well. Streetwise, kind, but more than a little depressed at the way things have turned out for her. I can understand why she is depressed. I work about 15 minutes walk away from her block of flats, and from the outside they look tidy enough, though right on the edge of the A13 motorway, so hardly in the beautiful surroundings. It is the disgusting state in which she is forced to live: with mould on walls and window sills, that would weigh you down. Why hasn't the council cleaned this up. I would suggest in most cases that the residents take some responsibliy here, but this is a systemic problem through the whole block; a specialist job and one way beyond the financial means of most people, let alone council flat dwellers, many of whom I know in this estate, are on benefits (I was told it was about 80 percent).
I was expecting this program to, do as other TV documentaries featuring ordinary people tend to do, which is patronise them. Sorry, that actually shouldn't say
It must have been an almost impossible task not just to let it all blow and and head straight for the Roget's thesaurus in order to find suitably sarcastic terms for all of us. But somehow, the program was, I feel as balanced as a piece of reality TV could be. Contrived to some extent, yes, patronising, yes again, but less than I thought could be possible. And neither all the peasantry featured, nor all the MPs came out looking like buffoons either.
And I feel, that in the same way Susan Boyle has become a minor celebrity despite her obviously non-sleb cred, Cathy may also be the new voice of ordinary Britain. If she hasn't got a TV show of her own by December, I'll be very surprised. She would make a very good working class version of Anna Widdecombe - the voice of reason, given to you by your best friend's mum rather than by your warty great aunt Matilda. Watch this space
Tower block of Commons is on Channel 4, Monday, at 2100.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Big Keys Comparison by TechReady
A small moment of fame! I demonstrate a couple of specialist keyboards for my firm, www.techready.co.uk.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Hazell Dean - Heart First
At 14, I had a mild crush on Hazell Dean - my sis used to rib me mercilessly cos of it.
So I was delighted to find this (gently remixed admittedly) gem of a track on Youtube. Soft dance, and a very early Stock Aitken Waterman production at a time when they were more Hi-NRG and creating to the gay crowd than strictly commercial. Like the lead sound in the middle 8.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Britain can't cope with the snow - SHOCKER
I'm sick of hearing how bad our council and transport systems cope in snowy weather.
We can't deal with hurricanes, and we don't have solar panels in our deserts either.
Hardly a surprise as we neither have hurricanes or deserts.
We don't get a lot of snow. Mostly we get no snow year in, year out. Scotland does, and that's why it deals with it as well as Germany and Sweden, countries which also get a yearly kerplunk of snow.
I wish people would stop whining and know that we in England especially, don't deal with snow because it simply isn't there most years to be dealt with.
Enjoy the white powdery stuff. This variety is cheaper than coke.
We can't deal with hurricanes, and we don't have solar panels in our deserts either.
Hardly a surprise as we neither have hurricanes or deserts.
We don't get a lot of snow. Mostly we get no snow year in, year out. Scotland does, and that's why it deals with it as well as Germany and Sweden, countries which also get a yearly kerplunk of snow.
I wish people would stop whining and know that we in England especially, don't deal with snow because it simply isn't there most years to be dealt with.
Enjoy the white powdery stuff. This variety is cheaper than coke.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Snow
Some views from the house last night. The second one is of the back garden, where there are no streetlights. I find the high level of light pollution scary. Looks mightily ominous.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Protesting in Wooton Bassett
Just heard about the planned protest by Muslim groups in Wooton Bassett.
I really don't like the war in Afghanistan and think our government are a pack of deceitful liars with an agenda which as a modern day peasant, don't understand. Not sure if they do, really, either. Just get told by the useless fecks at the MoD and America what to do, and do it.
We should pull out now. We should never have been there at all. I perfectly understand the need for these groups to protest. I feel the same.
But wouldn't this particular protest in this particular town be like pissing on someone's grave at their funeral?
Wooton has become symbolic for the nation as a place of grievance. Its a nice place - I've been there and was called "sir" by someone much older than me. It is rare enough to be called "sir" by anyone. It is also the place where real people, serving real wars get remembers. Not some amorphous group, but John Smith, Sapper.
They really need to think this one through. A protest is fine. But a mark of such blatant disrespect will really nark the vast majority of us who don't support the war, but truly don't want to see our soldiers and airmen blown to smithereens doing a job whose political ramifications they have very little say over. They have families and friends who give a toss for them as humans.
Youth
I'm applying to join the Youth Hostel Association of the UK.
When does one stop being a "youth"?
At 40, I hardly feel "yoof-ful". The church I used to go to, when I did such things, used to extend the concept of "young people" to those whose hair wasn't naturally grey. And I bet even silverhaired dudes could still be counted as young with the help of a bit of Clairol or Just For Men.
There is a reason of course, for this tardy application. Cheap accommodation abroad.
When does one stop being a "youth"?
At 40, I hardly feel "yoof-ful". The church I used to go to, when I did such things, used to extend the concept of "young people" to those whose hair wasn't naturally grey. And I bet even silverhaired dudes could still be counted as young with the help of a bit of Clairol or Just For Men.
There is a reason of course, for this tardy application. Cheap accommodation abroad.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Miranda Hart
The lovely Miranda? Or is she?I wish I could make up my mind as to whether Miranda's the best thing that's happened to comedy in the last year, or whether she's just a tall bird with an overly plumby accent. If you swapped the Roedean with a Yeovil, she wouldn't sound too far removed from Pam Ayers.
There is something remarkably compelling about her.
Too much food
Forget dieting, I've never bought into the many and varied diet fads which spring up this time of year, with th exception of Atkins - which works but is boring over time, and difficult to integrate into a reasonably active social life (eg, I drink and eat out, er, about once a month, smile).
This time I've just eaten too much food.
So I'm cutting down in order to feel better. I still love food, and I do question anyone who regards food alongside such phrases as "guilt", "oooh, aren't naughty?!" and other puritanical guff.
Not guilty, just uncomfortable having my stomach stretched to the max over Christmas.
Happy new year.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Muslim burial food
No, not an anti-Muslim post, just a dodgy pun.
Since those of Muslim faith like all funeral proceedings done and dusted more or less minutes after the victim of Death has become permanently kaput, do you think funeral directors hand these waffles out?
This brand is either named after an off the shelf company, or is simply a foreign food manufacturer's attempt to appeal to our need for speed, along with a doff of the cap to Middle England's affection for the old manor house. Not sure which.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Iceland microwaveable breakfast: the verdicts
Here's the verdicts on the Iceland mixed grill microwaveable breakfast.
Mrs Dukc's verdict.
CHIPS: As greasy as chips can be. Soggy but quite pleasant.
SAUSAGE: Almost inedible, greasy, contains a adult gorilla’s daily salt needs.
GAMMON: Very high on salt but perfectly acceptable.
BURGER: Bought back many happy memories of “economy burgers with onions” from the 1970s. Pretty good, though nutriotionally suspect.
BEANS: Not as juicy as expected (good). Soaked up the grease nicely from the rest of the food.
Overall mark: 8 /10
Though good value, don't feel the need to try it again.
Mr Dukc's verdict:
CHIPS: Soggy, greasy, pleasant.
SAUSAGE: What people with no money feed their kids. Very suspect flavour but with a surprisingly firm texture. Not as rough as Richmond so-called “Irish” sausages. If you’re Irish you’ll know how much of a lie this description is.
GAMMON: Very salty, pretty meaty and actually a big portion for the money. Rather impressed.
BURGER: My mum used to buy these in 1977. A cross between a Telfers Economy burger from Bejam and a Goblin tinned special. Really rather nice though completely scummy.
BEANS: A long way from being the anaemic mess I suspected they would be. Did what I hope they would do. Good soaker of grease.
Overall mark: 8 / 10.
These are 10p more expensive than a Pot Noodle so these are indirect competitors. Whereas a pot noodle is scuzzy but llikeable, this is scuzzier still and possibly less lovable (dragged down the by sad sausage), but heavier. So if you're hungry, go for these. If you want a completely doggy snack that won't fill you but tastes sweetly nostalgic, the noodles win.
Cheapest breakfast ever
I am about to tuck into what is probably the cheapest breakfast you can buy in the UK. Iceland sell a £1 pack containing a sausage, a flame grilled burger, a piece of "reformed" gammon, chips and beans. Yep. £1.
And the best thing is that is microwaveable in 6 minutes.
A review will follow very shortly.
And the best thing is that is microwaveable in 6 minutes.
A review will follow very shortly.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tesco's ginger card "gaff"
So, Tesco has had to withdraw a card with the message "Santa loves all
children...even GINGERS ones".
A couple were pictured in The Sun being "offended" by it. Is there a
special kind of "rent-an-offendee" rate The Sun pays out? Everyone seems to
be potentially offended. I'm offended by Rupert Murdoch's continued
existence, but hey ho.````````
I can think of many bigger and better things to be offended by.
But I still don't get it. Why is being ginger "funny"? I don't think this
is the case outside England, is it? Many of my Ulster in-laws are gingers
but I can honestly say that when I've been over there, a chortle-fest about
hair colour has never been on my mind.
children...even GINGERS ones".
A couple were pictured in The Sun being "offended" by it. Is there a
special kind of "rent-an-offendee" rate The Sun pays out? Everyone seems to
be potentially offended. I'm offended by Rupert Murdoch's continued
existence, but hey ho.````````
I can think of many bigger and better things to be offended by.
But I still don't get it. Why is being ginger "funny"? I don't think this
is the case outside England, is it? Many of my Ulster in-laws are gingers
but I can honestly say that when I've been over there, a chortle-fest about
hair colour has never been on my mind.
Could someone explain this to me?
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The worst part of London
Quite an interesting conversation heard on a train I was travelling on, while on the way to Birmingham, last Friday:
American Woman (W): I live in the worst part of London.
English passenger (EP) Where's that?
W: Dagenham
EP: I don't know where that is.
W: Its a long way out. East on the District Line. Really dull, very flat, full of people who aren't that bright.
EP: Sounds awful.
W: It is. When I came here for my job I was shown pictures of Knightsbridge and Kensington. My friend lives in South Kensington. I was so jealous. Dagenham's y'know, desperate. The last resort.
Being an inverted snob, and a resident of that fine town now for ten years, I had to pipe up:
ME: Oh Dagenham. Nice place. Cheap. On the tube. Great neighbours, hardly any crime where we live. What's not to like. Oh, by the way, I've lived there for ten years.
Completely embarrassed silence.
To be fair, at least the passenger actually lived here. I do get enourmously brassed off with people who have never been to places like Bognor (where my family live) and Dagenham without having been there, and feel the need to make some sneery and usually inaccurate remark. If you've never been to a place, using an area's reputation alone as a means to sneer at the place is just snobbery for the sake of snobbery.
I would say BRITISH snobbery; however, the particular passenger, as I say, was American.
But, at least, with people like that sneering at the perceived "failed" areas like ours: the joke towns, the chav estates and the perceived urban shit-holes, at least they don't entertain us with their presence
I grew up in Hayes (a joke town, at least if you're from Uxbridge or Ealing), lived in Deptford, Bognor (which used to dubbed "clown town"), Hackney (known, when I moved there in 1993 as the "dustbin of London" - but not now kiddies: a
So what's the deal, snobs.
I am currently reading: Estates, by Lynsey Hanley. This book is a compelling blend of psychogeography-meets-sociology. Am agreeing with much of it.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Pizza menu de jour: Haweli Indian
Looks like this fun packed feature has been mis-named as today's menu is, yet again, an Indian treat. Not really a treat as I've not tried eating here either so "treat" may be a prematurely optimistic label. Having covered myself in case of treat disappointment and possibly litigation, it may be a treat as there is only one decent Indian round here that I am aware of, so the competition is somewhat flimsy.
It has the word "free" on it. Always encouraging in these hard times.
By way, in case you're curious, thus far I've not needed to raid the menu cupboard. The menus featured so far have all dropped through our letterbox the day before I proudly displayed them here.
It has the word "free" on it. Always encouraging in these hard times.
By way, in case you're curious, thus far I've not needed to raid the menu cupboard. The menus featured so far have all dropped through our letterbox the day before I proudly displayed them here.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Pizza menu de jour: Pizza Hut - its a sin!
Apparently, meat eating is the new sin. Still, beats the usual target of smokers, the obese and ASBO (possibly also obese) kids. Count me in as being one. A sinner, not an ASBO kid - I'm far too old, though definitely obese.
This menu at least has the benecit of attractive design. I may well give the sinful pizza a spin this Friday, if I didn't indeed chuck it.
Faher forgive me
I tried not to do it...
(I saw me a pizza
And ate right through it)
- sorry Pet Shop Boys
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Pizza menu de jour: Shabana Indian
Today is the turn of this little cutie, the Shabana Indian (or sorry, Bangladeshi and Indian to be exact). Not been here so can't vouch for the quality of the food.
However, it has a welcome spot in our menu pile as good quality Indians are sooooo hard to find in Daggers. Hot curry is kind of limp in my experience. So, Shabana, its all hangs on you.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Pizza menu de jour
Park, the next door suburb.
With no further ado then, let me introduce you to Dagenham's finest. Starting with the Pizza Go Go menu, the beginning of a major series (subject
to me being bothered) on this blog.
The Gogo is an all-red baby featuring the emergency deal, the 999 pizza, for
those pizza emergencies, for when you just can't find a big enough bandage. Nothing like a 12 inch thin crust double pepperoni with onions to cover over that dripping wound, I find. When I lived briefly in Walthamstow, Gogo on Hoe Street was pretty decent for a cheap and cheerful take-away, so I trust the pizzas here are quite edible, possibly even better than this. That hold shot wasn't really that good, so for future shots, I'll be seriously considering alternatives. Compared to Korean babes holding the
latest Samsung mobile phone, this shot really sucks. But I'm learning fast.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Weasel words: Tough decisions
An oft-used weasel phrase of our time:
"Tough decisions will need to be made on...".
Meaning: We are going to have to do something that might make us look
electorially unviable (because we are, same as the other almost identikit
clones on the opposite bench) - particularly when the well-oiled spin
machine throws a hiccup and the media wakes up from its torpor for a few
moments and asks some well targeted questions before falling back into its
alco-pop-mixed-with-coke induced slumber.
But regardless of this tough decision we'll make bravely, almost martyr-like
on your behalf, you, modern day peasant, and others like you will be
shafted. For us and our ilk its business as usual. Same as it ever was.
Monday, October 05, 2009
Swine flu and me
Spent last week with Swine Flu. Here's a description of each day.
Wednesday: at work. Very mild symptoms but by 8pm was feeling a bit un-centred. Not especially ill, but felt as if though something was missing or wrong. Kind of like the last few hours of an acid trip.
Thursday: Hot, and feeling slightly more trippy and demotivated. Not desperately sick or anything. Didn't go to work as the world felt a bit jelly-like and kind of...wrong or something. I hard feeling to define, but best description is like how it is when you've had some reasonably good grass and are stoned just beyond the stage where you feel that getting home by bus would be safe. Note: I do have some experience of this back in the 90s.
Friday: Hot and cold with proper flu vibe kicking in. Coughed, spluttered and mildly stoned feeling all day. Read loads and didn't really feel like getting out of bed but bought netbook up to bed.
Saturday: felt rather hot, with sore throat and quite a hacking cough - the kind I had when I smoked 20 a day. However, by 3pm was feeling OK again. Not stoned or monged out today, just a bit hot.
Sunday: Apart from remaining cough, back to normal really.
Monday: Back at work and feeling mostly normal again, other than a slight cough. Felt a bit demotivated, but definitley within normal range. Busy, so didn't have time to worry too much.
So, what was Swine Flu like? Compared to the death-flu I had ten years ago where the world was extremely cold, hot and floaty (often simultanously) where getting off the duvet I lay out on the floor could take 30 minutes, this time it was a breeze. Actually it was rather nice to have the luxury of genuine illness without being hugely affected. There is no way I would have wanted to leave the house for too long (in fact I didn't got out at all). The prevelant feeling was that of being mildly drugged, and since I like being mildly drugged, overall, Swine Flu wasn't too bad an experience. If death is a 10 and losing a shoe for two minutes is 1, then this gets a 3. I wouldn't go around giving it to friends, especially those with kiddies, but the hype I'm afraid, does outweigh the actuality.
Wednesday: at work. Very mild symptoms but by 8pm was feeling a bit un-centred. Not especially ill, but felt as if though something was missing or wrong. Kind of like the last few hours of an acid trip.
Thursday: Hot, and feeling slightly more trippy and demotivated. Not desperately sick or anything. Didn't go to work as the world felt a bit jelly-like and kind of...wrong or something. I hard feeling to define, but best description is like how it is when you've had some reasonably good grass and are stoned just beyond the stage where you feel that getting home by bus would be safe. Note: I do have some experience of this back in the 90s.
Friday: Hot and cold with proper flu vibe kicking in. Coughed, spluttered and mildly stoned feeling all day. Read loads and didn't really feel like getting out of bed but bought netbook up to bed.
Saturday: felt rather hot, with sore throat and quite a hacking cough - the kind I had when I smoked 20 a day. However, by 3pm was feeling OK again. Not stoned or monged out today, just a bit hot.
Sunday: Apart from remaining cough, back to normal really.
Monday: Back at work and feeling mostly normal again, other than a slight cough. Felt a bit demotivated, but definitley within normal range. Busy, so didn't have time to worry too much.
So, what was Swine Flu like? Compared to the death-flu I had ten years ago where the world was extremely cold, hot and floaty (often simultanously) where getting off the duvet I lay out on the floor could take 30 minutes, this time it was a breeze. Actually it was rather nice to have the luxury of genuine illness without being hugely affected. There is no way I would have wanted to leave the house for too long (in fact I didn't got out at all). The prevelant feeling was that of being mildly drugged, and since I like being mildly drugged, overall, Swine Flu wasn't too bad an experience. If death is a 10 and losing a shoe for two minutes is 1, then this gets a 3. I wouldn't go around giving it to friends, especially those with kiddies, but the hype I'm afraid, does outweigh the actuality.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Bose make some decent headphones for this
Looks like the American cops have been using high frequency noise against G20 protesters in Pittsburgh. Interesting.
Simple solution: Bose Noise Cancelling Headphones. And if you can't afford these admittedly pricey noise cancellers, then any decent set of Sennheisers with some Nirvana playing at max vol. should do the trick. Do you feel stupid and contagious? No.
Seriously, anyone who objects to the protesters should remember that it may be your pet cause under attack by the increasingly unembarrassed governments of the world. I for one can't get too worked up about testing on animals, but like Voltaire, I would defend anyone's right to protest against it if they DO feel strongly enough. Creatively and amusingly rather than with violence if poss. Government can take mockery less even than being ignored (which is what we should be going more often - ignoring works with little kids).
I think Hitler's regime was allowed to develop under such complacent circumstances (mind you, ordinary pre Nazi era Germans were probably too busy trying to afford such basics as bread to care - until it was too late. .
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Chas 'n' Dave "split"
The Graun had an article yesterday about Chas 'n' Dave, the band who bought East End knees up music to the masses (in the 80s too) "splitting". Well, since they are ending on amicable terms, "splitting" seems a bit harsh.
I used to quite like their music in a non-committed sort of way, so when a friend dragged me along to the Fairfield Halls in Croydon to see them play, I went with some trepidation, not expecting much, but enjoying the company. They were fabulous!.
The lads put on a top gig - really energetic, with half the show dedicated to taking requests from audience members, the other half just larking around and mostly playing the more well-known tracks of theirs. Their presence will be sadly missed. They played Glastonbury a few years ago and from the comments I've read about the experience, they really worked the crowds, making many new fans along the way I'd guess.
Apparently Dave's missus has died of lung cancer (which prompted Dave's retirement from the biz). Not so nice.
From me, good luck to the lads, and of course...GERTCHA!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Mind of a what?
Does anyone know what tune the musical box plays during the closing seconds of Mind of a Toy by Visage? Loved it since I was 11.
The Victorian sounding box It has a chord in there which turns me to mush.
I can't find anything about this on the net, even in its own Wikipedia entry.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Beautiful corporate bullshit
You've gotta just love the bull put out by the likes of Trafigura, successfully sued for dumping a tankerful of sludge all over the Ivory Coast:
So, does the company even acknowledge this disaster they caused exists? Naaah.
Instead, on the Trafigura website, we have this gem:
"A culture of risk awareness runs through all of Trafigura business activities, with traders operating within clearly defined risk parameters."
(Oh yes, you bet a culture of risk awareness runs thorough Trafigura business activities. Low-risk Africans. No bother, no risk).
Then this slice of crud under "Our Responsilbities":
"Trafigura impact on the global economy is a positive one; our responsibility is to the communities in which we operate, our customers, our suppliers and employees".
(I bet those Ivorian were soooooooo grateful for the responsibility shown to their health and the pleasant state of their city).
There is nothing in the "Our News" section about the company being sued. Not a dickie bird.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Shiver me timbers
I'm not really in favour of voting for "one issue" parties, but lets be honest here, my only alternative is to deliberately destroy my ballot paper come the next election, or just aim my pencil randomly somewhere. The alternatives (apart from maybe the Greens) are just awful.
The Pirate Party's campaign is at least straddling an area which gels very, very strongly with me. So they may just get my X.
They are, apparently, the fastest growing party in Europe, and very popular with the kiddies. And I'm only half convinced that file sharing is complete morally neutral. The older I get, the more doubtful I become, but the heavy handed reactionaries in the music biz appear to resemble the horse and cart industry just after the 1,000th Model T rolled off a Detroit production line way back when.
Jack 'n' Chill
I nearly always enjoy finding out "what happened next" to one hit wonders.
This topic might become an occasional ongoing theme, we'll see. To get the ball moving, here's what happened to Jack 'n' Chill who made the first UK house track, The Jack That House Built, which I really liked at the time (I was 18, and this stuff mattered a great deal, especially as I was still trying - abysmally as it happens - to play keyboards). I felt rather nostalgic hearing it yesterday when rediscovering it on Youtube
I had no memory of what the track was called or who it was buy, and since there are no lyrics, this required a fair amount of sleuthing (but thanks to Everyhit).
A link to the track is here:
Its funny how some musos turn to drugs, and some to loose women and huge hamburgers, but in this case, one of the members of this band went on to become a dance floor backroom boy. Hope these guys are still working - it really was quite a pioneering track, being produced as it was in the UK - one of the first house tracks to have originated outside the USA and Chicago in particular.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Modern day peasants
I have nicked this comment from "Calli" from the Graunad comments section as this view so much echoes my own:
"... the only economic recovery that would mean anything to me would be a change of political system. The current system just puts us, the ordinary people - working class, middle class, small business - through this cycle again and again. I cannot accept that this is an acceptable future for myself or my children, especially because those principally responsible for these cycles sail through the bad times unscathed.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Speech Debelle wins Mercury Prize: or, where's the other good stuff?
Ok, I've not heard Speech Debelle's album as I write this, so can't comment on its merits, but I have a question to the music biz in general.
If this album is so good, good enough to be recognised to be submitted for a major award (not to mention major sales jack), how come its only sold 3,000 copies up till now? *
There is so much good music around. So why does the biz continually promote mediocre crud? How many other brilliant artists am I missing, and who've also sold 3,000 CDs, when several million would be justified?
Biz: don't blame illegal downloaders, blame yourselves for not seeing the bleedin' obvious. If you promote crud, you lose sales. If you promote decent music then you gain sales. You'll get illegal downloaders too, but I'll buy a CD and not rely on Spotify when the music is good enough for me to keep it permanently on my iPod. Of course, when the Symbian version of Spotify is released, I'm becoming a premium subscriber.
Another another thing: over 40s buy music too. I am old enough to remember when pop could be bought by a teeny, my mum, and sometimes my granny. This does not necessarily indicate its high quality, but then pop is meant to be more Stephen King than Pushkin. Quality isn't the point - listenablity is. Most of the pop I love has no musical merit at all, but conjures up memories, grabs you by the feet and gets you bopping. Its a heart, not a head thang.
I will post a brief comment on Speech Debelle's album after I've played it.
* Yes, I know, Awards don't indicate whether something is good or not, and anyway, that's in the ear of the beholder of course. But no smoke without fire, right?
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Too darn hot: who paid for the (Mc)Kinsey report?
So a report is fired out by the McKinsey ("dya mind if I just borrow your watch to tell you the time and claim a tenner from you") management consultants, saying that the NHS needs to shave 10 percent of its staff to remain viable.
What the f**k do management consultants know about running a hospital? Or anything else, really?
And the slightly sinister thing is that no politician wants to own up for commissioning this report in the first place. SOMEONE paid for it. Consultants don't work for free last time I looked.
My theory is that actually, some stinking Nasty Tory paid for it to prepare us for when they inevitably win the next election.
"Hey look. We won by a huge majority. That means the public must really like what we intend to do. So...let's do what we do best. Close things. Make life as hard as possible for the population who aren't us. That's nearly everyone!!! Who cares - they are scummy old peasants. What? We are nasty. Nooooo! Never. We're just saving you all from the big taxes from big government....".
Then, seeing the fuss made by the GBP (Great British Peasantry) against a bunch of US neocons about the "Orwellian" NHS, backtracked. But...the money had been paid, the report was let loose on an unsuspecting bunch of serfs anyway.
Bet I'm right about this. And I'll be pleased to name the name on this here blog, if it's ever revealed.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Chopper!
Really glad to see one of these around. When I was a kid these were all the rage. You had a Grifter if you were hip, but a Raleigh Chopper if you were the daddy. Mine was orange and black.
A few differences between this baby, which I snapped in Maldon at the weekend, is that the banana seat isn't suitable for giving friends a ride on the back ("backies") and I think the wheels on the modern-day version are closer in size to one another than the original 70s model, which featured a much larger back wheel, if my memory serves.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Ad's eats: Tarantino: 51 High Strett, Hornchurch, Essex
For our 9th wedding anniversary, The Wife and I headed to Tarantino’s Italian restaurant in Hornchurch, after this was recommended by a work colleague.
Well, thumbs up to her, for this place was everything I’d been told it would be. Firstly, the service was really friendly. I think this is partly due to place being local, with another branch in Brentwood. Very much a family affair and all the better for without any sense of corporate blandness you sometimes find in Italian restaurants, though Zizzi nearby doesn’t do too badly in this respect despite it being part of the ASK group. Tarantino’s has a regular menu plus a couple of specials which change weekly.
I was told that the portions would be large, and that the quality would be high. Both assertions were not wrong.
For my starter, I ordered baby back ribs with honey barbecue sauce, and that’s exactly what I got, with the ribs falling off the bone. I would have complained that the sauce was a bit sweet, but then I remembered it said it would come with honey, as indeed it did. The portion on the platter was main meal size. My Dearly Beloved had meatballs which were the best I’ve tasted, made of a combination of beef and veal, very finely minced and tasting expensive. Again, a larger than average portion. So far so good.
Next we both had a tagliatele dish. Mine was with creamy tomato and garlic sauce, with strips of scotch steak. The beef tasted like it was not from the cheapest cut - I guess it came from sirloin, and was very tasty and perfectly cooked, so chewy enough without arguing with the teeth. This was, perhaps, the best pasta dish I’ve ever eaten. The sauce was delicious and robust, matching the steak strips perfectly, and the pasta firm and not claggy in the slightest. The Wife also gave her pasta dish eight out of ten, though I never tasted any of hers as it contained broccoli. I’d rather die before eating this.
Mrs Dukc was what full after this extravaganza of flavour and so went straight to coffee. I went for the strawberry cheesecake, which I would rate highly, though it didn’t have the wow factor of the pasta. Big portion though, so gets 7 out of 10.
Overall, I’m going to give this place a highly recommended rating. I do love Italian and it is quite easy to get a pasta dish. But it is very difficult to make a pasta meal exceptionally well, and that’s just what they’ve done here. Its won two awards, one being the “Best Regional Italian Restaurant” award. With good reason.
Despite the reputation Essex suffers, Hornchurch is an area of well-kept secrets, with Bonaparte being better than most French restaurants in London I’ve tried. Tarantino’s has barged its way into my “restaurants I now love” list. On a limb in the RM postcode area, all these delights are skipped by the London critics who tend to stick around the West End, Mayfair and Kensington. Great if you live or work there. However, for us in the far eastern suburbs, Hornchurch is a real unsung oasis.
Ssssshh. We’ll keep it to ourselves before all those peasants further west discover it.
Well, thumbs up to her, for this place was everything I’d been told it would be. Firstly, the service was really friendly. I think this is partly due to place being local, with another branch in Brentwood. Very much a family affair and all the better for without any sense of corporate blandness you sometimes find in Italian restaurants, though Zizzi nearby doesn’t do too badly in this respect despite it being part of the ASK group. Tarantino’s has a regular menu plus a couple of specials which change weekly.
I was told that the portions would be large, and that the quality would be high. Both assertions were not wrong.
For my starter, I ordered baby back ribs with honey barbecue sauce, and that’s exactly what I got, with the ribs falling off the bone. I would have complained that the sauce was a bit sweet, but then I remembered it said it would come with honey, as indeed it did. The portion on the platter was main meal size. My Dearly Beloved had meatballs which were the best I’ve tasted, made of a combination of beef and veal, very finely minced and tasting expensive. Again, a larger than average portion. So far so good.
Next we both had a tagliatele dish. Mine was with creamy tomato and garlic sauce, with strips of scotch steak. The beef tasted like it was not from the cheapest cut - I guess it came from sirloin, and was very tasty and perfectly cooked, so chewy enough without arguing with the teeth. This was, perhaps, the best pasta dish I’ve ever eaten. The sauce was delicious and robust, matching the steak strips perfectly, and the pasta firm and not claggy in the slightest. The Wife also gave her pasta dish eight out of ten, though I never tasted any of hers as it contained broccoli. I’d rather die before eating this.
Mrs Dukc was what full after this extravaganza of flavour and so went straight to coffee. I went for the strawberry cheesecake, which I would rate highly, though it didn’t have the wow factor of the pasta. Big portion though, so gets 7 out of 10.
Overall, I’m going to give this place a highly recommended rating. I do love Italian and it is quite easy to get a pasta dish. But it is very difficult to make a pasta meal exceptionally well, and that’s just what they’ve done here. Its won two awards, one being the “Best Regional Italian Restaurant” award. With good reason.
Despite the reputation Essex suffers, Hornchurch is an area of well-kept secrets, with Bonaparte being better than most French restaurants in London I’ve tried. Tarantino’s has barged its way into my “restaurants I now love” list. On a limb in the RM postcode area, all these delights are skipped by the London critics who tend to stick around the West End, Mayfair and Kensington. Great if you live or work there. However, for us in the far eastern suburbs, Hornchurch is a real unsung oasis.
Ssssshh. We’ll keep it to ourselves before all those peasants further west discover it.
Did Roger Linn love Alice too?
Most people – that is the vast majority of punters who aren’t electronica/muso types – can ignore this post. But I was playing Spotify at work, and re-stumbled across an album my dad used to play a lot – “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” by Elton John.
Listening to All The Girls Love Alice made me think “by golly, that drum kit doesn’t half sound like a Linn Drum LN1, as used on countless Human League and Michael Jackson “Thriller” era tracks”. Well of course it wasn’t as the first Linn wasn’t made til at least 10 years later.
I wonder though if Roger Linn had a particular kit or track in mind when putting together those famous ROM chips? If so, I think the sounds on Alice are a definite possibility, the snare and toms are VERY close matches sound-wise.
The LN1 was a groundbreaker and is still iconic, and I have to confess I find it very pleasing to listen to nearly 30 years after it crashed and banged its way into the charts. The bass drum on the later 9000 – now that’s a full bodied sound – wowzer.
Listening to All The Girls Love Alice made me think “by golly, that drum kit doesn’t half sound like a Linn Drum LN1, as used on countless Human League and Michael Jackson “Thriller” era tracks”. Well of course it wasn’t as the first Linn wasn’t made til at least 10 years later.
I wonder though if Roger Linn had a particular kit or track in mind when putting together those famous ROM chips? If so, I think the sounds on Alice are a definite possibility, the snare and toms are VERY close matches sound-wise.
The LN1 was a groundbreaker and is still iconic, and I have to confess I find it very pleasing to listen to nearly 30 years after it crashed and banged its way into the charts. The bass drum on the later 9000 – now that’s a full bodied sound – wowzer.
Friday, July 17, 2009
The simple happiness of finding Ricardo Autobahn's "Beep Beep"
Just a random muse on a Friday night, after watching Demon Seed with Julie Christie (man, that computer has a frightening voice), I was noodling around the music files on the PC and found Beep Beep by Ricardo Autobahn, from the album Interrobang.
What a very good track. Two years ago, I heard this when I was a) extremely drunk; and b) incredibly, almost terminally depressed due to a lot of aggro at work, and its retro cheerfulness really helped me put the crappiness of the day - which in fact led to me leaving the job and taking my present (non crappy) one – to one side, if only for a few hours. As heard on The Zone (but where else?) Bought the album off iTunes, this track was the absolute banger!
It sounds like what what you’d get if you artificially inseminated a Spectrum computer with the sperm of a first gen Akai sampler.
I challenge any electonica fan not to grin mindlessley when playing it - which you may by clicking:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gb2buOocwaQ
What a very good track. Two years ago, I heard this when I was a) extremely drunk; and b) incredibly, almost terminally depressed due to a lot of aggro at work, and its retro cheerfulness really helped me put the crappiness of the day - which in fact led to me leaving the job and taking my present (non crappy) one – to one side, if only for a few hours. As heard on The Zone (but where else?) Bought the album off iTunes, this track was the absolute banger!
It sounds like what what you’d get if you artificially inseminated a Spectrum computer with the sperm of a first gen Akai sampler.
I challenge any electonica fan not to grin mindlessley when playing it - which you may by clicking:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gb2buOocwaQ
Monday, July 13, 2009
Weekend doing nothing
This weekend I mainly sat on my arse, reading and watching DVDs with the Dear One. We also went to the pub for Sunday lunch. All in all a weekend to savour (I am not being ironic, really). No, really, why can’t more weekends involve the grand sum doing nearly bugger all?
So, the only thing I missed was The Freak Zone. Chest la, I’m sure it’ll be on iPlayer this evening. There certainly won’t be any telly on, so at least I'll have an evening free - no a whole week really - to catch on musical weirdness.
But yesterday I saw it: a 42 inch Panasonic TV: £699 from Tezzers. A lovely trinket to treasure before I die. It has a great picture too, audio description facility built in (an essential for Mrs D) and even I can see it with my errant eyeballs.
(By the way, this isn't the telly concerned, in case you were wondering)
BBC1, 2, 3, four, and you can forget most of commercial channels, apart from CH 4 news, which is the only news worth watching other than Paxo on form. ALL FREAKIN’ RUBBISH.
So, my Panasonic dream telly will be surely like the world’s most elegant picture frame.
With a turd inside it.
Not a picture of a turd, which might be at least artistically interesting, but a real live turd, once that’s warm its fresh extraction form one’s botty, one that stinks of garlic and eight hour digested cider. This is the state of telly today. Quite literally, shit. Even the good shit is reconstituted shit. Shit is shit. Telly is shit.
Time to buy some more books or get out more. Oh no, I just wrote how much I enjoyed not going out. What a bloody hypocrite.
So, the only thing I missed was The Freak Zone. Chest la, I’m sure it’ll be on iPlayer this evening. There certainly won’t be any telly on, so at least I'll have an evening free - no a whole week really - to catch on musical weirdness.
But yesterday I saw it: a 42 inch Panasonic TV: £699 from Tezzers. A lovely trinket to treasure before I die. It has a great picture too, audio description facility built in (an essential for Mrs D) and even I can see it with my errant eyeballs.
(By the way, this isn't the telly concerned, in case you were wondering)
BBC1, 2, 3, four, and you can forget most of commercial channels, apart from CH 4 news, which is the only news worth watching other than Paxo on form. ALL FREAKIN’ RUBBISH.
So, my Panasonic dream telly will be surely like the world’s most elegant picture frame.
With a turd inside it.
Not a picture of a turd, which might be at least artistically interesting, but a real live turd, once that’s warm its fresh extraction form one’s botty, one that stinks of garlic and eight hour digested cider. This is the state of telly today. Quite literally, shit. Even the good shit is reconstituted shit. Shit is shit. Telly is shit.
Time to buy some more books or get out more. Oh no, I just wrote how much I enjoyed not going out. What a bloody hypocrite.
Monday, June 22, 2009
1938 tube train
A few of us travelled down to Russell Square for a trip on a 1938 tube train to Ealing Broadway. This train has been lovingly preserved by the London Transport Museum’s Acton depot branch and looks, as far as I can remember, just as it did when trains of this type left the Bakerloo line around 1984. Not a bad innings for a hard worked tube. A few technicalities aren’t quite the same – the notching relays seem to come from a 1958 type tube, and the very tuneful original compressors have been replaced by Westinghouse units, straight from a Met Line train, but that’s stuff only a nerd would notice (yes, I’m one of ‘em).
We were impressed by the quality of the seats which were deep and accommodating. Those thirties chaps certainly knew a lot more about lumbar support than us – why are all seats in modern public transport so hard?
It was great to go back in time to a type of tube stock I just about remember. I would ideally love to ride an R stock train, as used on the District until about 1984, but I don’t think it’s possible as I’ve only seen them in 2 car formation at the same museum. They featured the loudest MA whine of any Underground train – ever.
Some interior shots of the train are below and I’ll be posting a video or two on Youtube shortly.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
A new Grimm Bros fairytale
Ever heard of that well-known Brothers Grimm story, “Goldilocks and the Two Bears”.
Three bears, surely?
Well, if you’re parliament, then the two bears version is all we’re getting, because we’re not worth it.
The two bears story could, by a creative parent, me made to work for a slightly gullible and young child at bedtime. But we know the story has changed beyond recognition. Without the porridge being “just right” as it was with the third bear, the story flops and in fact becomes a non-story. Who cares?
I wouldn’t trust this lot to sell me a dog. I’d get a cat, and they would tell me I was privileged to receive a new breed of feline-hound.
Three bears, surely?
Well, if you’re parliament, then the two bears version is all we’re getting, because we’re not worth it.
The two bears story could, by a creative parent, me made to work for a slightly gullible and young child at bedtime. But we know the story has changed beyond recognition. Without the porridge being “just right” as it was with the third bear, the story flops and in fact becomes a non-story. Who cares?
I wouldn’t trust this lot to sell me a dog. I’d get a cat, and they would tell me I was privileged to receive a new breed of feline-hound.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Weasel words and phrases: "Lessons have been learned"
When politicians, those in public office and others in the business world, when referring to avoidable cock-up or more likely, spin malfunction say “lessons have been learned” I wonder what they mean?
Translated, if we take “lessons” to their natural environment, a school context, do they mean: “oops, we screwed up on the fire evacuation, so lessons have been learned and we won’t leave bin containers in front of the fire exits any more because if this had been real, there would have been child deaths on our conscience and more importantly, a raise on our insurance premiums”.
Or do they mean “lessons have been learned by this year’s intake of students?” In which case, the lessons will be unknown by next year’s intake of students.
You’d wonder how many “lessons” in the political/business sense actually stay learnt.
How I hate that phrase. Really, really hate it.
Translated, if we take “lessons” to their natural environment, a school context, do they mean: “oops, we screwed up on the fire evacuation, so lessons have been learned and we won’t leave bin containers in front of the fire exits any more because if this had been real, there would have been child deaths on our conscience and more importantly, a raise on our insurance premiums”.
Or do they mean “lessons have been learned by this year’s intake of students?” In which case, the lessons will be unknown by next year’s intake of students.
You’d wonder how many “lessons” in the political/business sense actually stay learnt.
How I hate that phrase. Really, really hate it.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
If at first you don't succeed
I couldn't sleep a few nights ago, so started comiong up with these "isms".
If I come up with any more, I'll probably not post them:
If at first you don't succeed...
...you didn't succeed.
...leave the band and start playing free jazz.
...give up on the IVF and know that 57 is too old to get pregnant.
...resign from the job as MP. Your constituents won't forgive you.
...you should have read the notice CAREFULLY before trying to bring drugs inito Singapore
...you will probably fail again next time. Some peeps are just born to lose.
...consider renaming yourself Giles and tell 'em you went to Eton.
If I come up with any more, I'll probably not post them:
If at first you don't succeed...
...you didn't succeed.
...leave the band and start playing free jazz.
...give up on the IVF and know that 57 is too old to get pregnant.
...resign from the job as MP. Your constituents won't forgive you.
...you should have read the notice CAREFULLY before trying to bring drugs inito Singapore
...you will probably fail again next time. Some peeps are just born to lose.
...consider renaming yourself Giles and tell 'em you went to Eton.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
I'm in love...with a careless whisper
I've just had a Google for it, and no-one seems to have spotted it yet, but Alexander Rybek's Eurovision winner is George Michael's Careless Whisper dresed up.
Chord for chord it is almost identical. It is even in the same key.
I wonder if George has noticed he's been ripped off? Maybe he's shagging the Norweigian and its an "in joke" of sorts.
I don't suppose we'll ever know.
Chord for chord it is almost identical. It is even in the same key.
I wonder if George has noticed he's been ripped off? Maybe he's shagging the Norweigian and its an "in joke" of sorts.
I don't suppose we'll ever know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
The only political message that would convince me would be a long term vision. I'm not tied to a particular ideology, but it would involve a constitution, getting rid of the 'second' house, long term planning, massive restrictions on "free market capitalism", and limits on how long people can "serve" as MP's. I would make the process of becoming an MP much more like jury service than the gravy train it currently is.
Brown, Cameron : neither has my vote because all they represent is more of the same rubbish that has plagued the UK since, at least the war - a public schoolboy's bunfight were the ordinary citizens are treated like pawns. "
So....what to do next?