smaller and smaller and smaller...

"...I can arrange that!"

There's an article on the Guardian today where Carrie Fisher discusses how she felt under pressure to lose 35lbs before they started filming the new Star Wars film.  This is a difficult issue: would there be a problem if a Princess Leia, 38 years older than in the original films, was two-and-a-half stone heavier than when she was nineteen?  Probably not.  She isn't, after all, very likely to be required to appear in a metal bikini this time around.

But do the director and producers have a right to ask the actors to change their body shape if they feel it is right for the character?  It would definitely be a problem if only the female actors were asked to lose weight, but it's noticeable that Mark Hamill lost a lot of weight before filming too.  Although the role Luke Skywalker is going to play in this film is shrouded in mystery, I suppose it's safe to say that a fat Jedi Master was never really going to work...

Anyway.  Whilst reading this article, I discovered that a Guardian commentator by the name of Nashket has won the Internet for the day with this pearler of a comment:

"Spoke like somebody who does not have a clue about Star Wars.
Princess Leia, the character, is an elegant individual who takes massive pride in her appearance, after all she is royalty and had a privileged upbringing.
She is also son of Anakin Skywalker, one of the most powerful Jedi ever known based on his Midi-Chlorian level and therefore has great discipline and self-respect for the body which is passed down to her by her as a result of her Jedi roots in her character.
She would not of suddenly just abandoned all those personality traits as she got older or developed a cake addiction, when cake may not even exist in the Star wars universe.
I have not seen Star Wars in about 10 years and I remember these basic things.
When political correctness starts to cause you to change some of the greatest stories ever told, you know something is not correct"

So there.

....Although, as another commentator notes a little further down, "No cake in the Star Wars universe?! Then just what are the rebel alliance fighting for?!!"

I actually want to try and avoid spoilers for this film.  I sense that this may be difficult, especially as I won't be seeing it for a week or so after it's released.  Oh well.  I guess I'll live.

I can sing a rainbow.....

I had to take the car I almost never drive to the garage to be serviced today.  On the one hand, this was a bit of a bind because it meant I wouldn't be cycling and would be a little bit later for work than usual (and it seems I'm a creature of habit about that sort of thing).  On the other hand, it was absolutely throwing it down with rain at a time when I would normally be cycling to work, and when I got out of the car to walk to the office, the sun had come out and there was a beautiful rainbow.

So pretty, I took a photo.

The colours were so distinct, that I found it impossible not to think of the mnemonic that helps you remember the order of the colours of the spectrum..... except that I don't use the normal one, and two different ones are embedded in my head.

I was about eight years old and we were just learning about the spectrum of colours in science. Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain.  Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.  You know the drill.  Our science teacher then challenged us to come up with our own mnemonics.

I came up with this:

Rain Over Yugoslavia Gives Boffins Invaluable Vestige.

I was really very pleased with it.  And yes, even at eight years old, certain parts of my personality appear well established.

Sadly, it didn't win the competition as my best friend came up with this:

Really? Oh You Great Big Idiot, Vivian.

Dammit.  An important early lesson that simple is better.

A lesson I ignored, obviously.

Anyway.  So that's what I think of when I see a rainbow.  That and the gold at end, of course.  In this case, I reckon it was somewhere in Beeston.  Unlikely, but it could happen.

lost like some forgotten dreams....

In case it might have escaped your notice, Christmas is coming. 48 days and counting. In the course of a single day in the office last week, I head “Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses playing on the reception PA no fewer than three times. I don’t think it’s on a loop, but it seemed to be playing every single time I walked past. It wasn’t even bloody November.

I work for a retailer, and we’re naturally desperate for Christmas – or at least Christmas shopping – to start as early as possible and to last as long as possible. We had our gift guide published and our gift range out in our shops at some point in September and have been anxiously wondering why our seasonal offers weren’t flying out of the stores as the country basked in the warmest October on record. Well, at least we don’t sell jumpers and coats.

We had a big event in the office yesterday evening to launch the new Xmas advert. Apparently, this is quite a big deal, with everyone desperate to have *the* advert that takes off on social media and gets everyone talking. The John Lewis advert from last year, “The Hare and the Bear” hardly featured a product at all, but it was really the only ad that anyone was talking about. Our advert is better this year, and our leadership were clearly very proud and dished up mulled wine and mince pies as they premiered it to us (our hashtag seems a bit like the desperate attempt of someone who has just heard about "The Twitter", but it's not as bad as Debenhams' attempt this year... the Frog Chorus!  I ask you! And selfies? really?)

….but let’s put it this way, it’s probably better that they showed it to us last night before John Lewis launched their advert today. Our guys talked about creating a “social media thunderclap” and asked us to share the ad on facebook and to use the hashtag (seriously, do they know what the reaction of my friends would be if I shared something like that?). John Lewis barely need to do anything to get people excited about their advert, and apparently TV channels were involved in a bidding war to have the honour of being the first to premiere the advert. With barely any effort at all, it seems… and a mere £1m on the advert and £7m on the campaign… they look to have won again with a very cute advert indeed (if the sex trafficking of penguins is your thing). They don’t mention any products in their advert again this year, but if you look at their website, you’ll see that they’ve *created* a market for penguin stuff. There’s an app; they’ve lined up with Barnados for their storytelling charity and with the WWF over the adoption of actual penguins. They’ve got this shit covered. They are capitalists though, so if you want a large Monty plush toy? Yours for £95. Boom! Christmas owned.

Of course, all this or any other Christmas advert is really trying to tell us is this:

Capitalism, eh? It’s all about the kiddies.  Merry Christmas.

I'll see you burn...

I keep walking past a huge poster advertising Soltan. 

I don't generally scare easily and I'm not inclined to believe in the supernatural, but I've got to be honest with you here: this particular poster gives me the heebie-jeebies. If I was holding a casting call for an advert like that, I fairly sure that I wouldn't be looking for the spawn of Satan to stare demonically out of the poster, transfixing passers-by with that sulphurous gaze.  She's smiling, yes.... but she's smiling because she can see through you to your very soul and is planning an eternity of torture in the deepest circles of hell.   Look at how the sheer terror on the faces of the other figures in the poster; see how they're trying to pull away from this demon spawn but are held by some dark, diabolical force.

Soltan / Satan.   Even the product name is suspicious.  Hiding in plain sight, perhaps? Who really makes this stuff and what's their agenda?  Do they really want to protect our skin from the rays of the sun so that they can better roast it in the fires of the underworld for all eternity?

It's not just me, right?  It's all there in that poster.  Surely you can see it too?

No?  Look more closely.  Take a deep breath and let go your preconceptions.  Look behind the obvious and pierce the curtain of lies.

Don't just look, SEE.

Pretty freaky, right?

SOMETHING MUST BE DONE.

time marches on...

I started the process for drafting a will this evening.  We've sort of been meaning to do this ever since we bought the house, more than a decade ago, but have only just got around to it.  Perhaps we're feeling a touch more mortal since we both hit forty.

I was doing fine until I was asked about what funeral arrangements I wanted.  They didn't want a full service order or anything like that -- we're playing The Crazy World of Arthur Brown's Fire, right? We're all agreed on that much at least. Maybe some Maiden too -- but they did want to know the basic stuff: what kind of casket? cremated? That kind of thing.

Clearly, I'm not religious.  I also don't much care what happens to my corpse after I'm done with it.  That said, I'm keen not to make too much of a dent on the environment either.  No hardwood casket for me.  Cremation and a cardboard box will do fine.

Hmm.  I had an idea.

"Is it possible to make a provision in my will that my beneficiaries have to turn my ashes into some kind of jewellery and that they then have to wear said articles of jewellery for a set period of time if they are to inherit?"
"Yes.  That would be a little unusual, but it's certainly possible"

Is it bad that I'm now thinking of how tasteless I could make that jewellery? Some kind of massive, hideous ring? A broach? Earrings? A tiara, perhaps? Something to remember me by?

Why would I come up with an idea like that?  Well, I once killed a guy, captured his soul, resurrected him, killed him again and then enchanted his soul into a gem which I then gave to his girlfriend.

Oh no, wait.... that was in Skyrim.

I think this evening's will session was in the real world, but frankly I'm finding it harder and harder to tell.  I don't think it matters much, to be honest.

Question!

I mentioned yesterday that I did a quiz for a thing at work the other week.  Well, if you're interested, here it is.  Have a go and let me know what you think. 

I think there's something like 77 points on offer in total (including the bonus two in the top ten round).  The winning team on the day got something like 62 points.  I tried not to make it too easily google-able, but also not so difficult as to be ridiculous.  

Have a go! I'll put the answers up in a bit.

Round One – Famous Pauls

1. Ex-Beatle

2. Movie star and salad dressing tycoon

3. Garfunkel's partner

4. Crocodile Dundee

5. Former football midfielder who played his entire 20-year career with Manchester United

6. member of the bands The Jam and the Style Council

7. Nottingham born Fashion designer

8. Actor who played Jesse in Breaking Bad

9. Actor famous for playing Brian Fantana in Anchorman and Phoebe’s boyfriend Mike in Friends

10. The Fast and the Furious actor who died in 2013


Round Two – World Cup

1. What was the score in the Brazil – Germany semi-final?

2. What year was the first FIFA world cup tournament

3. Who won the first world cup

4. Brazil have won the tournament the most times – how many?

5. What was the score in the final in 1966 when England beat West Germany?

6. What is the name of the original World Cup trophy

7. What is the name of the dog that found the trophy when it was stolen in 1966

8. 2 players captained England in this year’s world cup – name them both

9. In which 2 years did David Beckham captain the England World cup Finals team?

10. Which is the the only nation to have played in every World Cup?

Round Three – General Knowledge

1. What is the fastest land animal?

2. What is the most common element in the Earth's atmosphere?

3. If the score is love-15, what sport are you playing?

4. The song "Candle in the Wind" was dedicated to what actress?

5. What country traditionally produces port wine?

6. What brand of beer does Homer Simpson drink?

7. What condiment is sometimes called Japanese horseradish?

8. Who is the Lord of the Rings?

9. What river flows parallel to the Euphrates?

10. Who painted the Mona Lisa

Round Four –Top ten round. 

Countries by population: name 5 of the top 10 most populated countries in the world.
5 points on offer, but a bonus 2 points if you can name the top 5.

Round 5 – Nearest Nottingham (as the crow flies)

1. Derby, Mansfield or Leicester?

2. Glasgow, Dublin or Plymouth?

3. Paris, Brussels or Amsterdam?

4. Madrid, Vienna or Stockholm?

5. Chicago, Nairobi, Delihi?

Round 6 – On this Day in History: 31st July 2014 (the day I did the quiz)

1. It’s JK Rowling’s birthday today. Within 2 years either side, how old is she?

2. It’s Fat Boy Slim’s birthday today. Within 2 years either side, how old is he?

3. Former England Manager Bobby Robson died on this day in history. Within 2 years either side, what year did he die?

4. Including today, how many days have there been so far this year?

5. On this day in history, the Spanish Armada was spotted off the coast of England and Sir Francis Drake finished his game of bowls before setting sail from Plymouth to defeat them. Which century?

Round 7 – Pictures

Round 8 – Cover Versions. 

What song do the following artists have in common?

1. Norman Greenbaum, Doctor and the Medics, Gareth Gates & The Kumars

2. Leonard Cohen, John Cale, Jeff Buckley, kd lang, Rufus Wainwright, Alexandra Burke

3. The Troggs, Wet, Wet, Wet, R.E.M. (and apparently Metallica!)

4. Righteous Brothers, Robson & Jerome, Elvis Presley, U2, Gareth Gates, Duane Eddie

5. Johnny Cash, Nine Inch Nails

Round 9 - Lyrics.  Name that song.

1. Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof

2. U don't have 2 be beautiful 2 turn me on

3. They've been going in and out of style, But they're guaranteed to raise a smile, So may I introduce to
you

4. I could see that girl was no good for me, But I was lost like a slave that no man could free

5. Anybody could be that guy, Night is young and the music's high

6. And then worst of all (worst of all) you never call, baby, When you say you will (say you will) but I
love you still

7. I think I love you, But I wanna know for sure

8. Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,

9. They let you dream, Just to watch 'em shatter, You're just a step, On the boss-man's ladder

10. The Mississippi Delta was shining, Like a National guitar

Round 10 –Movies By Spoiler

1. The planet was Earth all along

2. Verbal is Keyser Soze

3. Darth Vader is Luke's father

4. 299 die

5. The kid's therapist is a ghost

6. Tyler Durden isn't real

7. The detective's wife's head is in the box

8. The killer's mother is part of his split personality

9. They drive into the Grand Canyon

10. The alien invaders are killed by Earth's microbes

smoke.

Apparently, my office is preparing to ban e-cigarettes.  Or they might already have banned them.  As someone who isn't addicted to nicotine in any form, I'm a little fuzzy on the details.  The new policy will treat them in exactly the same way as analogue cigarettes, meaning that you can't just sit at your desk having a quiet puff, but you'll have to go outside to the smoking sheds with everyone else.

Apparently, this is a policy that lots of other places already have.  New York and Chicago have both banned them in public places, for starters.  The thinking is that these bans are aimed at preventing the re-acceptance of smoking as a societal norm, particularly amongst younger people and that smoking e-cigarettes may be some kind of "gateway" drug to smoking the real thing.

Really?  Is that the best we could come up with?

Look.  I realise that there are all sorts of unknowns about e-cigarettes and what their long-term impact on health is.... but doesn't a ban like this just stink of people banning something they feel vaguely uncomfortable with?

As a non-smoker, I find that the smoking ban has generally made a night out that much more pleasurable.  Did anyone - even smokers - really enjoy coming home at the end of the night stinking of fags?  Nevermind the health benefits, isn't it just much nicer for everyone to be in an environment where someone else can inflict their second-hand smoke onto you?  But what's the objection with an e-cigarette? Is it just that you now find it a bit weird seeing someone sitting indoors puffing out smoke?  If that's the reason, then it's a shit reason for banning them in enclosed public places.

I've read some nonsense about how it makes it much harder to identify when someone is actually smoking indoors, but again, that's feeble.  Worried about passive smoking?  Well, you do know that it's not actually smoke that they're breathing out, right?  You might just as well ban kettles.  And don't even get started on the everyday pollution spewed out of cars that we breath in every day with barely a second thought.  You reckon the vapour from an e-cigarette is likely to be anywhere near as harmful as that?

The objections are laughable.  Whilst it might be true that e-cigarettes turn out to be bad for the individuals using them (and nicotine is, let's not forget, a neurotoxin.... just like alcohol and just like caffeine), then that's still not a good enough reason for banning them either.  That's personal choice, just like alcohol and caffeine. Analogue fags are bad for the people around them who haven't chosen to smoke them.... but that simply isn't the case with digital fags, is it?

So why the rush to ban and the delay to carry out proper testing? Might it have anything to do with the billions of pounds spent on traditional aids to giving up smoking: patches, gum and the like?  Could it have anything to do with the billions of pounds raised in taxation through people buying cigarettes rather than than the much cheaper vapourisers?  If the government might be better off in the long-term as more people give up smoking and enjoy better health (traded off against the cost of their longer lives), could they stomach the short-term loss in revenue?  Tobacco companies are hedging their bets by throwing themselves into the e-cigarette market, that's for sure.... although you can't help but wonder if they've made a mistake with the name.  I can see how they would want to encourage smokers to buy their tobacco replacement product, but the very use of the word "cigarette" and the initial packaging that saw vapourisers made to look like traditional cigarettes has surely provoked the banning instinct.

At dinner the other day, I'll admit it was a bit weird to watch someone pulling out their vapouriser and have a discreet puff between courses... but when I thought about it, I realised how groundless my objection was: the vapour doesn't smell of anything and it's not disruptive to me in any way.  From my point of view, it's nothing like as disgusting as an old-school cigarette, and if it was helping the lady using it to give up smoking tobacco and all the various evils associated with that, then what grounds do I have to complain?

There might turn out to be perfectly good reasons to ban e-cigarettes, but until we can identify them, then any move to ban is just ludicrous.  I can't put it any better than a comment I read below an article in the Guardian today, so I'll leave you with that.  Over to you, MrEurope!

"The very idea that there is a "debate" about whether e-cigarettes are better than normal cigarettes in an insult to human intelligence, and it has truly made me question just how intelligent our species really is. I have been vaping for the past 20 months or so, and you would have to be ignorant to the point of medieval to not immediately realize that e-smokes is the by far lesser of two evils.
Just to name a few quite obvious advantages:
- It does not contain carcinogens (and if it does, in such minute trace amounts as to genuinely be neglible)
- There is no combustion happening (and thus all related problems do not exist)
- It does not contain carbon-monoxide
- It does not stink (or, only disperses a sweet-ish smell from the flavor one vapes)
- It does not burn/make smoke/vapor while not being used (unlike a cigarette)
- It is just about harmless to bystanders
- It does not stink up your clothes, car, house, carpets, breath
- It does not make you smell like an ashtray
- You can use it while eating (even in a restaurant) with no ill effects for the enjoyment of one's food or that of others

And that's just from the top of my head. Not to mention, it's up to 75% cheaper than smoking. The very fact we are talking about them on an equal footing with cigarettes is absurd. I suppose that the manufacturers of the devices gave themselves a real problem by naming them electronic cigarettes, and by making the first devices look like one. I can see why they did it, but now this is turning out to be a major issue.
To talk about regulating these things like one would regulate tobacco products is to be completely devoid of even the most basic information about how the devices work.
Honestly, if there has been one "Debate" that has seriously made me question just how advanced and rational humans are - this is it. The truth is that employers ought to be giving these things away for free to their employees, and require they stop smoking actual tobacco. Just the saving in useless smoking breaks would save billions, not to mention the health-benefits to employees.
And how paradoxical it is, too, that in the Information Age, where one would imagine we are very well informed with facts and detailed information, we still can be actually SO ignorant on something THIS obvious. A shame on humanity, and a stark reminder how irrational, tribal and backward we actually still are."

if you stare too long you lose your appetite....

There's a massive poster up near my local supermarket.

It features this image and the slogan, "Eat Like You Love".  It's an advert for Philadelphia Cheese.

I pondered this image for the minute or so it took to fill the car up with diesel the other day.  I was puzzled.  It's not that I don't understand what the advert is driving at.... I think that's fairly obvious... it's just that I couldn't really see who they were appealing to.

I'm just guessing here, but I would assume that the main buyers of Philadelphia Cheese are women.  I don't wish to gender stereotype - after all, I buy it and very much enjoy it on a bagel for my breakfast with some honey or with some smoked salmon for my lunch... but on the whole, I think it's fair to say that women make up their key market (not least because they do an extensive range of reduced and zero fat versions of their product).

Their old advertising certainly used to be targeted at women.  Do you remember the long-running campaign featuring those those two single women, and there was another one featuring some angels (here is the Australian version).   This new campaign features a photo of an attractive young woman licking cream cheese from her lips.  Is this an image designed to appeal to women or to men, would you say?  Is she perhaps an aspirational figure for female buyers of cream cheese?  Maybe.  I'm no expert, although I will say that this advert appeals to me more than any of their older campaigns.  I'm not sure it makes me any more likely to buy more cream cheese, but I certainly find it less cringeworthy.

That tagline though: "Eat Like You Love"?  In conjunction with that picture, surely the use of the word "love" in the strapline brings a wholly different connotation to the poster.

Nah.  Surely it can't be that.  Right?  Who in their right mind would want to equate their product with sperm?

Would that make the product more or less attractive to either men or women, would you say? Are they actively seeking to make that connection with the poster?  What conclusion are we supposed to draw from this?

Is that what Philadelphia tastes like, or what?

Is there anyone alive - man or woman - who is going to be more likely to buy this product as a result of this advert and its apparent association of a spreadable cream cheese with blow jobs?

Hmm.

I'm saying it's not likely.  Unless perhaps they put the advert into Nuts magazine or something.... although I'm not sure that the Nuts demographic and the Philadelphia demographic has all that much crossover, to be honest.  It's not really MAN FOOD, is it?  Maybe the metrosexual male is all over spreadable cream cheese?  Wait... that sounds wrong.  Well, perhaps David Beckham eats it.  In which case, they should use him in their advertising.... would they have him licking his lips like that, do you think?  Would they (or he) dare?

Do you think that maybe - just maybe - the ad executives that came up with this were blokes?  I bet they don't buy much cream cheese either.  I'm not at all sure they've bothered to do all that much thinking about who does buy it, either.  Still, what do I know?  Is this perhaps an example of an advert produced *after* porn became readily available on the internet and allusions like this became relatively commonplace and apparently acceptable?

Perhaps I'm reading it wrong.
Maybe it's just my dirty mind.

I'm not shocked or anything, and I'm probably overthinking it (650 words so far? Who am I kidding? I'm definitely overthinking it)... but what were they thinking?  Do they really think this will increase sales?  Am I just not in the target demographic?  What *is* the target demographic for this?

What do you reckon?   Should I rethink my spreadable cream cheese provider of choice and transfer my allegiances to someone with a more enlightened (and certainly less Antediluvian) advertising strategy?

he's not what you'd call a glamorous man....

In spite of the glorious weather, I spent a good part of the bank holiday weekend shut up indoors watching the TV coverage of the final of the Snooker World Championships from the Crucible theatre in Sheffield.  Well, who needs a suntan when you can watch a sport as gripping as this?  At its finest, snooker bares the souls of its competitors like almost no other sport.  One of the players is always forced to remain in his seat, disconsolately sipping on a glass of mineral water as he watches his opponent notch up another massive break.  There's nowhere to hide and not a damn thing they can do to influence the result.  In those circumstances, the eyes truly are the window onto a tortured soul.  It's almost cruel to watch as their hopes slip away slowly, ball by ball, frame by frame.

At one point, the TV cameras went out into the crowd picking out famous faces: oh, there's Stephen Fry.  He's a huge fan of the game of course.  There's Phil Taylor.  He knows all about the pressure of appearing in a world final.  And so on.  Eventually, the camera came to rest on a pair of guys, sitting side by side and with the most remarkable, unbelievable haircuts perched improbably upon the tops of their heads.  They looked like they had come from another planet.

"Ah", said Willie Thorne, "There's Serge from the band Kasabian and Noel Fielding sitting next to him."  As if that wasn't quite enough information, popular culture guru Thorne (aged 59) then felt the need to add, "Kasabian are one of the biggest rock groups in the country at the moment and Noel Fielding is a very funny man indeed."

Erm.  Thanks for that Willie.

The camera lingered for a while, and I just marvelled at how incongruous they looked sat with the rest of the crowd assembled for the snooker.  I've been to the Crucible to watch the snooker a couple of times, albeit never for a final, and my lasting impression was that the whole place smelt vaguely of fags and stale bacon grease and had the clientele to match.  These two looked about as out of place as a pair of splendid birds of paradise sat amongst a flock of dowdy town pigeons.  They also, by the way, looked completely ridiculous.

I was reminded of the time - a few years ago now - that I was pushing a trolley around Sainsburys and I bumped into a bunch of guys who all clearly thought they were in Motley Crue in the Los Angeles of about 1988: you know, long hair, aviator sunglasses, ripped jeans, studded leather jackets and massive cowboy boots.  Big hair.  I can't emphasise the hair enough.  they had really, really big hair.  One of them was in the trolley and they were waving around bottles of vodka and cases of beer as they browsed up and down the aisles.

This was in Sainsburys.  In the middle of the afternoon.  In a retail park just outside Nottingham.  It was astonishing; a truly remarkable sight.  If Serge from Kasabian and Noel Fielding looked out of place in the Crucible theatre, then these guys looked suitably bizarre amongst the normal suburban, middle-class shoppers of your average Sainsburys.  Asda this is not.  They too looked like they had come from another planet - certainly from another era -  and I found myself wondering what they did for a living in the real world.  Serge is an actual rock star and Fielding likes to imagine that he is the comedy equivalent, but I suppose that at least both of them have day jobs that give them the permission to look quite that ridiculous.  What about this lot though?  Perhaps they all worked in a call centre and did their normal shopping after work during the week?  Maybe they only went the full powder-perm rock look at the weekend?  Maybe they were in a Motley Crue tribute band playing Nottingham that weekend.  Who can say?  I certainly didn't fancy stopping to ask them.  They were a touch rowdy.

Perhaps I should ask Willie Thorne?  I'm sure he'd know.

let's go native....

A friend once asked me where I was born.
"Northampton" I replied.
"Ah yes.  You've got a Northampton accent."

This remark mystified me somewhat.  I've never really considered myself to have any kind of an accent - does anyone? - but given that I only spent the first 18 months of my life in Northampton and have spent almost no time there since, it seemed highly unlikely that the accent had somehow rubbed off on me.

My dad is from Plymouth and my mother is from Essex.  I was at a boarding school between the ages of 7 and 18 and then I went to University, first in Warwick for three years and then in York.  I lived in York for a year after completing my Masters degree and then moved down to Nottingham, where I've been ever since.  I don't even know what a Northampton accent sounds like.  It seems inconceivable to me that I have somehow got one.

Many years later, after I had been living in Nottingham for a few years, someone else asked me where I was born.
"Northampton"
"Ah, that makes sense.  You have an accent that sounds like it straddles the great vowel divide"

I didn't know what that was, but apparently it's an imaginary line drawn across the country between Bristol and the Wash and it acts as a sort of linguistic tipping point.  You know, "sconn" on one side and "scone" on the other.

"I asked the maid in dulcet tone
To order me a buttered scone
The silly girl has been and gone
And ordered me a buttered scone."

For reference, I say "sconn".  But I also say "barth", and "H" is an aitch and not a haitch.  And, for my American friends, it's also definitely ALUMINIUM.  There's a whole extra syllable, you know.

Anyway.  I mention this because I think I am largely without accent.  Received pronunciation.  I realise that this is likely what everyone thinks, but in my case I think it's true.  English, for sure, but other than that, rather more difficult to pin down to any specific location.

....except that this evening, I warmly greeted someone with a broad "'EY OOP".  I didn't add the "me duck" onto the end of the sentence, but I might just as well have done.  I've lived in Nottingham now for 15 years, longer than I've ever lived anywhere else in my life and it appears the accent is finally rubbing off on me.

Hmm.  I'm not at all sure how I feel about that.

A good introduction to the dialect can be found here.  Sample quote:

"To the outsider, the Nottingham accent might make the person speaking it sound thicker than Barry White's shit on Boxing Day morning, but don't kid yersen; it’s actually the most complex dialect in the UK., drawing in and absorbing speech patterns and slang from Derbyshire, Yorkshire, Lancashire and the South before spitting them back out in a concentrated stream of inflection, tone, tempo and swearing."

Perhaps I should just relax into my fate.

Or move.

Yer get meh, me ode fookin dookeh?

is that the question?

Once in a while, I like to take the dusty path through the stats for this site.

I've been doing this for long enough now (a little over 9 years, would you believe) that I've long since reconciled myself to the fact that I'm never likely to get a book deal out of my blogging and I don't tend to obsess over my visitor numbers.

I write for me, man....which, looking at the data, is probably just as well.

That said, I never fail to be entertained by the search terms that bring people to this humble corner of the Internet.

My current favourite?  "Do beards smell?"

Really?

Well, in the hopes of perhaps increasing my readership, I'll take this one.

Are you ready for this?

OK.  Do beards smell?  Well, I can't claim to speak on behalf of all beards - indeed, I shaved mine off in December, so perhaps I shouldn't really be speaking on behalf of *any* beards - but mine didn't smell.  

Well, I don't think it did.... perhaps lightly of Sex Panther (60% of the time, it works every time...).  Other than that, largely odourless.

There.  That's it.  Happy to help.

Good luck with your enquiries, random passing stranger from the world wide web.  If you have any further questions, please feel free to swing back any time.

That's me: mass appeal blogging since March 2nd 2004.  Any interested literary agents can contact me via the email in my profile.

...just a stereotype

Do you ever think that you can guess someone’s nationality just by looking at them? I’m not talking about their race or anything totally obvious like that, I’m just thinking that it sometimes feels as though you can tell just by looking at someone, by the general cut of their jib. Clothes are a bit of a marker, of course, but it’s more than just the clothes you wear. To me, Americans are kind of big and wholesome looking, with Canadians a taller, even more wholesome version of the same thing; Australians are somehow brash looking and Kiwis are somehow more understated and wry. Grotesque generalisations, obviously… but do you know what I mean?

Is it possible that our cultural heritage is something we unconsciously carry with us as a visible marker of where we’ve come from?

The Brits are pretty easy to pick, I think – not least because we’re so often covered in tattoos displaying the badge of our national football team or spelling out ENGLAND in big, fat letters on the inside of our forearms. And we’re always queuing. And complaining (to each other… NEVER to the person who has upset us). And apologising.

I remember when we were wandering around the Jemaa el-Fnaa in Marrakech a few years back. If you’ve ever been there, you’ll know that this is a smoky, crowded Souk packed full of Moroccan traders trying to sell you something. Of course, to the passing tourist, many of the stalls look exactly the same and seem to be selling more or less the same merchandise. The traders combat this by vying to catch your attention so they can lure you in to their shop. They do this by calling out to you as you pass by, trying to guess your nationality and calling out to you in what they think is likely to be your language. Tourists are easy money, after all. For some reason, they seemed to find me hard to pick and tried pretty much every language they could think of: English, French, German… eventually just listing out the countries that popped into their heads: Aussie? American? Dutch? Swedish? in the end, they seemed to decide that I must be Scandinavian. It was probably something to do with being tall and thin and not answering them when they spoke to me in any of the languages they tried, but I remember being childishly pleased that they hadn’t picked me as English. I’m not especially ashamed of being English, or of the English themselves – we’ve got as much good and bad as any other nation - but I just don’t see my nationality as being anything I want to be defined by. I am English, but I don’t care to be pigeon-holed by anyone’s idea of what that might mean.

C. used to occasionally remark that I don’t really look English, although I’ve never really been able to decide if that’s really true. Or, if it is true, then why is it true? Why? It’s not just because I don’t have terrible sunburn and “FOOTY MAD” tattooed into the nape of my neck, is it? (personally, I'd go with 'footie' as my spelling of that, but then I wouldn't have it done at all, so each to their own....)

Actually, I don’t like the idea of being pigeon-holed at all. Full stop. By nationality or by anything else. In my own mind, I like to think that I’m an enigma. You might disagree, but that’s just because you don’t understand me. No one understands me. No one ever really could.

Still, if I had to be guessed as a nationality, I suppose I could do worse than something Scandinavian. Tall, windswept and mysterious. Possibly soundtracked by a-ha. I could live with that, I reckon.

 I could so rock one of Sarah Lund’s jumpers too….

born stubborn....

I think I've talked about this before, but I love the Grimm fairy tales.  The original, unadulterated ones, that is.  Forget the saccharine rubbish pedalled by Disney, with their ludicrous fantasy castles and a world filled with beautiful princesses, fairy godmothers and frogs that turn into prince charmings.... life is nasty, brutish and short, and you might as well learn that in your bedside stories.

Mind you, even by the standards of the Grimms, the tale of the Willful Child is an absolute belter (even better than the unfortunate story of the foolish mouse who thought it might be a good idea to share a house with a cat...).

Here is the tale of the Wilful Child, in its entirety:

"Once upon a time there was a child who was willful and did not do what his mother wanted. For this reason God was displeased with him and caused him to become ill, and no doctor could help him, and in a short time he lay on his deathbed.
He was lowered into a grave and covered with earth, but his little arm suddenly came forth and reached up, and it didn't help when they put it back in and put fresh earth over it, for the little arm always came out again. So the mother herself had to go to the grave and beat the little arm with a switch, and as soon as she had done that, it withdrew, and the child finally came to rest beneath the earth".

Outstanding!  Short and not in the least bit sweet, eh?  I very much look forward to any potential Disney adaptation.

For some reason, I am reminded of this:



"....I'm getting better"
"No you're not, you'll be stone dead in a moment"

Ah.  They don't make fairy stories like this any more.  If they did, Bella wouldn't have made it past the first book.  If she did survive, she certainly wouldn't have kept her virtue intact....

is there something I should know?

A little while ago, I was reading a piece on eBooks and why lots of people seem inclined to dislike them before they've even tried them.  Fair enough, but one of the reasons - cited by lots of people - was that if you read a Kindle or something on the train on the way into work, you won't be able to show people what you're reading.

Really?  You care that much about what total strangers think of you that you'd rather pretend that you are reading Freud than "Fifty Shades of Grey"?  Seriously? Who gives a shit?  After all, people brazenly read the Daily Mail on public transport all the time....  What's next?  Harry Potter books with adult covers to make you look more mature as you read the young adult serial?

I mention this because I heard Simon Le Bon on the radio the other day, talking about the influences that made Duran Duran.  The Doors and Patti Smith, apparently.

Yes.  You did hear that correctly.

The Doors and Patti Smith.

Look.  I don't mean to be rude... but really?  I don't know about you, but I don't hear a whole lot of Patti Smith in "Wild Boys" or much Jim Morrison in "Girls on Film".  Le Bon was the singer in one of the most successful bands of the 1980s, and yet he is apparently still insecure enough to want us to believe that he was influenced by really cool bands, the kind of bands that a focus group of Cool Consultants would return as the results of a survey on the coolest influences to have.

Why would he care what we think?

Still, in that spirit, I feel safe in declaring - just between us girls - that this blog has always been inspired and influenced by the works of Sun Tzu and Søren Kierkegaard, the music of Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich and the art of Albrecht Durer.

What do you mean you'd always assumed Benny Hill?

How dare you.

all of my change I spent on you....

I spent most of my Sunday afternoon, including the vast majority of the Wimbledon final, in the car driving down to Stanstead Airport - some 2.5 hours away.  My reason for doing this?  To deliver a satisfyingly heavy payload of sweets to a friend from New York who was passing through London.  She's not nicknamed "Gums" for nothing... I'm fairly confident in predicting that if her current rate of sugar consumption continues, she'll have no teeth left by the time she hits 40.

There aren't many people I'd spend that much time in the car for just for the pleasure of a couple of hours in their company, but Jane is definitely one.  There probably also aren't too many attractive 20-something year old women that C. would be comfortable with me spending time with on my own.... but Jane is definitely one.  She's a special girl.  Besides, C. would have been there too if she hadn't been spending a bit of time with her parents.  I knew she was a good'un right from the moment she told that Jesus joke in the back of the truck full of strangers on the way out of Cape Town at about six in the morning.....

Besides, we're planning a trip to New York in November, and you can never have too many friends who live in New York, right?

So, I spent a lot of time in the car driving up and down the A1.  Mmm.  Interesting.

On my way back home, I did notice a sign similar to the one above on the side of the road.  A payphone?  You're trying to entice me off the road with the prospect of being able to use a phone I can put some spare change in to make a telephone call?

I'll be honest, I don't spend a whole lot of time in Cambridgeshire,  but surely even they've got mobile phones by now.  With their extra fingers, they're probably fairly well adapted for texting, too.....

In the age of the free, pay-as-you-go mobile phone, aren't payphones are bit, well.... redundant? (although, clearly, Maroon 5 still use them... )  I'm old enough to remember the days when I used to sit in the front room of my parent's house ringing the front room of the house of one of my friends on the off-chance that they would answer the phone and that he would be there.... but I'm pretty sure that no one really does that any more, do they?  Why would you, when you can take a phone out of your pocket wherever you are and ring that friend's phone which is likely to be in his pocket, wherever he is?

Sure, you can run out of battery and you might not be able to get full wireless internet via 4G in the wilds of rural Cambridgeshire..... but that's no reason to maintain a payphone network, is it?

Or maybe Cambridgeshire is like a living museum?  Have you seen the University?

true....

Apologies if you've already seen this, but it was simply too good not to share.

We knew that Google was good, but who knew that it had such amazing powers of insight and truth?

I have literally nothing else to add to that; it seems to pretty much say it all.

(If you don't believe me, then go to Google yourself and type in "David Cameron is" and see what suggestions come up). 

I'm telling you: Google knows stuff.

who let the dogs out?

What separates man from the animals? It’s a question that has exercised philosophers for thousands of years. Is it language? reason? morality? humour? religion?

98% of our DNA is identical to that of a chimpanzee, but then again we share 50% of our DNA with a banana, so I’m not sure what that statistic really gives us all that much insight unless it can explain why that other 2% seems to make so much difference. To us, anyway. I’m not sure that chimps are all that bothered about it, to be honest.

These grand philosophical thoughts sprang to mind as I drove to work this morning.

Let me explain: when I connect my iPod to the car stereo, it automatically starts to play songs in alphabetical order. On my iPhone, this means that every single time I plug it into the car, I am treated to the first 15 or 20 seconds of so of Vampire Weekend’s “A-Punk” as I fiddle about to put on something different. Over time, this has meant that I have become quite familiar with those opening Upper West Side Soweto-tinged chords. It’s a good song, but who wants to listen to their iPod in alphabetical order? If I let it play, I’d soon be listening to “A/B Machines” by Sleigh Bells, “A&E” by Goldfrapp, “Abel” by the National and “About a Girl” by Nirvana. Good songs all, I agree, but not a playlist I want to listen to every single time I get into the car. To me, those opening chords have become a signal that I need to choose a playlist.

I mention this as when I got into the car this morning, I selected a playlist on shuffle and set off for work. I’d only been travelling for a few minutes when one song finished, and those familiar chords began to play out. Without thinking, I reflexively reached up for the stereo to select a playlist, only to remember just in time that I’d actually already done that, and that it was okay to sit back and listen to a song that I actually really like.

I am Pavlov’s Dog and I want my dinner, dammit. I’m starving!

(Pavlov’s actual dogs, of course, couldn’t stand indie lightweights like Vampire Weekend , much preferring the work of seminal noiseniks, Sonic Youth.  No drool for "Oxford Comma", but positively moist about anything off "Daydream Nation".).

the seaweed is always greener in somebody else's lake....

Sometimes a day can best be summed up by a photo.  Today, that photo is this:

Yup.  Today was definitely Fish Balls.

Luckily it's a long weekend, so we're off to France tomorrow afternoon after work (and a whole damn day of three year planning which - yes - absolutely is as dull as it sounds.  Maybe worse).

The forecast in France is for excellent food with a good chance of wine.  This is good.  No: this is necessary.

See you on the other side people.  Stay classy.

only going forward, still can't find reverse....

The Jazz flute is a much underrated instrument, I feel... especially when coupled with a really sweaty trumpet playing the theme tune to Star Trek.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present for your listening pleasure... Maynard Ferguson.



I think you'll find the Jazz Flute solo kicking in at around 1m50s...

Mmmm. Nice.



...and whilst we're on the subject, here's comic book guy doing the Shatner Evolution.

No, I don't really know how my brain works either. I just tend to roll with it, to be honest....

fingers and thumbs....

I'm not entirely sure how it started, but I have become a gesticulator. I suppose, as I could claim French nationality by marriage, that this ought to be my incomparable range of gallic shrugs. Unfortunately not (although I am working on them. along with a puff of the cheeks that is supposed to indicate my general insouciance to the whims of an impatient world). No, my gesticulation of choice appears to be the Paul McCartney thumbs up. Yup.  The Macca thumbs aloft.  Not half as much of a hit with the ladies, I'll wager (Macca: Linda.  Serge Gainsbourg: Brigitte Bardot.  I rest my case).  There is basically nothing that can be said in favour of this inane gesture. Even as I catch myself doing it, apparently to affirm my support and agreement with someone, I feel a complete fool. Apart from Macca, who really does that? And even if people DO do that, do I want to be seen as one of THOSE people?

No. I do not.

I am therefore trying to nip this unfortunate habit in the bud. From now onwards, unless I am trying to communicate to someone with whom I do not share a language, to the deaf, or I am trying to signal across a crowded bar when someone is offering to buy me a drink, the thumbs up.... especially the double thumbs up... is hereby barred. VERBOTEN. Closed for business.

If I don't catch this habit now, who knows where it will lead? Pointing, or some other such vulgarity, I should think.

Oh, but for the record, the throwing of the Vs or the bird to signal disapproval or dismissal is still very much on my agenda. In fact, from now on, I will be very much throwing the Vs at my raised thumbs, both metaphorically and literally. As required.

 Up yours.