Those Taliban: what a bunch of utter turds! Couldn't bear anyone else having a slightly different outlook on life or—Allah forbid!—actually enjoying themselves. Music: that was out on pain of death. Shaving your beard, not praying at the right time of day, not wearing a burqa: all signs of the infidel. Keeping pigeons, flying kites, displaying pictures, dancing at weddings, gambling: far too much fun, if you asked them.
Mind you, who are we to talk?
I blame Oliver Cromwell.
Telegraph: Floods are judgment on society, say bishops
The summer floods are God's judgment on the immorality and greed of modern society, claim senior Church of England bishops.
One, the Bishop of Carlisle, even said that the introduction of pro-gay laws had provoked God to send the storms that have left thousands homeless.
It's good to see the Church of England abandon its medieval roots and start providing insightful comment and analysis on the issues affecting modern society.
What I don't get, though, is how to tell which of modern society's actions are provoking the wrath of God. I mean, how are we supposed to know that it is the pro-gay laws that have brought on the floods and not, say, Gordon Brown becoming PM, the smoking ban, or the Church of England's continuing failure to ordain gay clergy?
I guess that's why we still need bishops: to interpret God's will for us.
New Scientist: Climate change sceptics criticise polar bear science
I have to admit, I'm with the climate change sceptics on this one: polar bears are absolutely crap at science. Granted, they have the obligatory white coats, but their lack of opposable thumbs makes it extremely difficult for them to get their paws around the test tubes.
They should probably stick to mauling seals. They seem to be really good at that.
I've just realised that it has been almost two months since I added anyone to my list of toasts for 2007. Have I had my head buried in the sand, or has nobody worth toasting died recently?
I just checked out the deaths for June 2007 on Wikipedia, and the only one I'd heard of was Bernard Manning—which rather proves my point.
I'm not actually wishing anyone any ill-will, you understand, but it seems to me that a major celebrity death is long overdue.
Remember, you heard it here first.
BBC: Terror suspects all linked to NHS
Eight people arrested in connection with failed car bombings in Glasgow and London all have links with the National Health Service, the BBC has learned.
Seven are believed to be doctors or medical students, while one formerly worked as a laboratory technician.
Surely letting off bombs must run contrary the Hippocratic Oath
If they're found guilty, I'm going to write to the General Medical Council demanding that they be struck off forthwith!
Let it not be said that I never got off my peach-like arse to go and get some original content for Gruts. Here, I've done a video for you:
Don't ask me how I did it. Suffice to say, Industrial Light & Magic had better watch out: there's a new kid in town.
For a Guardian staff journalist, Simon Jenkins talks a lot of sense.
(Apart from the total bollocks about dogs, obviously.)
…si vous pardonnerez mon Français.
Hitchin and Soo and assorted fruits of their loins set off today on an eight-week, round-the-world jaunt. The word gits springs to mind.
They are hoping to record their adventures on their brand-new Coneydale weblog, and on their even brander and even newer Coneydale Flickr photos pages.
Yes, gits is definitely the word all right.
(By the way, their crisp story made stuff come out of my nose.)
I see the new Bruce Willis film is called Die Hard 4.0, in keeping with its technological theme. I wonder if, when it goes to DVD, it will become Die Hard 4.1. And will the director's cut be Die Hard 4.2? etc.
I suspect it could become mildly irritating after a while.
The elderly couple on the right are my mum's maternal grandparents (and Uncle Fred's in-laws), Frederick Michael Rotheram and Ellen Sarah Rotheram (née Heyward)—known to her friends as Nelly.
A quick Google search of information given on the sign behind them reveals that they were on the Isle of Man when this photograph was taken. Judging by their apparent ages and the style of the vehicle on the hillside in the background, I would guess that the photograph was taken some time in the 1930s.
I didn't know that there were any surviving photographs of my great-grandparents until my mum's cousin loaned her an envelope full of old family photos earlier this year. I have just spent the afternoon making copies of them with my digital camera.
Frederick and Nelly met while they were both servants of Lord Leverhulme (of Lever Brothers Soap fame). Frederick was a gardener and Nelly was a maid. Frederick's mother, Bridget Kelly, was from a well-to-do Irish family, but had emigrated to Britain and fallen on harder times, having run away with a household servant (who was presumably Frederick's dad).
I don't know much about Nelly Rotheram, other than she died of throat cancer, aged 60.
In 1958, at the age of 82, Frederick accidentally stuck a garden fork through his foot. He didn't like to make a fuss, so he didn't seek medical help until gangrene had spread throughout the entire leg. His leg was amputated on 6th March of that year—my mum's 21st birthday. Despite his age, Frederick survived the operation: they gave him an artificial leg, and he lived for another 11 years, staying with my Uncle Fred and Auntie Lucy.
The amputation wasn't the last of Frederick's medical emergencies. One day, he discovered that his false teeth were missing. By a process of elimination, he and Auntie Lucy deduced that he must have swallowed them while eating his steak dinner in front of the fire—he hadn't left his armchair since then. In a blind panic, Auntie Lucy rushed him to hospital. The hospital said there was nothing wrong with him. The next day, Auntie Lucy found the melted remains of her father's false teeth in the embers of the fire. Frederick had encountered a piece of gristle while finishing off his steak and had spat it into the fire, along with his false teeth.
About ten years ago, I pretty much freaked out my mum. I told her about a vague recollection I had of sitting on a besuited old man's knee at Uncle Fred and Auntie Lucy's house, and being fascinated by his leg—there was something funny about it. Which is when mum told me about my great-grandad and his peg-leg. Mum had thought I was far too young to remember him. She was right. It pretty much freaks me out too.
My great-grandfather died at the age of 93 in late 1967 or early 1968, shortly before my third birthday. He is special to me because he is the oldest person that I can remember having met (in terms of date of birth, that is; in terms of birthdays achieved, at 101 and counting, Uncle Fred makes his father-in-law look like a young, peg-legged whippersnapper). According to the maths, my great-grandfather must have been born around 1875. Not only does that make him the oldest person I can (or will) ever remember, it also makes him the only person I will ever meet whose lifetime overlapped—albeit briefly—with my hero, Charles Darwin.
I am extremely glad to have any sort of recollection of him.
Jackhammers,Also known asPneumaticDrills.Both totally inappropriate names.If anything,They should be calledPneumatic chisels.
This blank verse malarkey is dead easy. All you have to do is write stuff down with line-breaks in silly places and with your text alignment all to pot. I don't get what all the fuss is about, I really don't.
George CARTER-Stephenson, eh? So, this is what you get up to when you are 'working from home'?I just don't get the mentality of some people. What sort of person goes around numbing rare bumblebees?
I blame Bill Oddie.
Jen was reading a copy of Ideal Homes magazine the other day, when she remarked, "Do you know, this couple have gone on and on about their new staircase, and how much it cost, and how wonderful it is, and how they had to move the front of their house forward one metre so they could fit it in—and there's not even a fucking photo of it!"
Guardian: Yesterday in parliament
… Coins celebrating Henry VIII, Charles Darwin and Robert Burns will be issued in 2009, [Chancellor of the Exchequer] Mr Darling announced… A £2 coin will celebrate the 200th anniversary of Darwin's birth and the 150th anniversary of his work The Origin of Species.
WOOT!
I don't think our postman was too impressed with the birthday presents Stense sent me yesterday:
Yes, I know my birthday was 3½ months ago, but, as far as Stense is concerned, it's a sort of tradition.
What with yesterday being Friday 13th, I suppose the car crash must have been pretty inevitable.
Well, when I call it a crash, I suppose it was nothing more than a prang really. OK, not a prang; it was more of a slight knock.
I was sitting in a queue of traffic in the pourring rain when the driver of the car behind me evidently forgot to stop, and I felt a gentle bump pass through Murphy. Like I said, it was pourring with rain, so I decided there was little point getting out into it to examine the non-existent damage. Instead, I pretended not to have noticed the knock and edged forward with the slow-moving queue of traffic.
What happened next was pretty amusing. The driver of the car that had knocked into mine suddenly started letting car after car pull out of a side-road in front of them. Anyone might think they were trying to put as much distance as possible between their car and mine before I changed my mind. I guess they must have thought Friday 13th was their lucky day after all.
I don't think the people behind them in the queue were too impressed, though.
One thing I love about Carolyn is that, although she lives in the same universe as you and me, she sometimes passes into an alternative reality, where strange and wonderful things happen.
Here is her own account of her latest escapade, related to me via instant message last night:
I went for a sniffing test today. You have to sit in a cubicle on a high stool in front of a computer and there is a hatch on the other side of the desk through which they put various samples, one test at a time. At one stage, 8 jars were passed to me but the jar number the computer was asking me to test was not amongst them. So I buzzed for help and opened the hatch and tried to peer through but couldn't see anyone. At that point, the visitors pass I'd been given fell off so I popped off my stool under the desk to retrieve it.
The next thing I knew was the girl in charge rushing in through my door shouting 'are you alright' - she'd looked through the hatch, seen the room was empty and assumed I'd collapsed. It had me giggling for 10 mins - but it didn't help my sniffing accuracy unfortunately!
Why hasn't this woman got her own website?
That's it: British summertime is officially CANCELLED.
It's been raining for over a month, with absolutely no sign of any let-up.
If you could all turn back your clocks at 01:00 tomorrow morning, that would be great.
Try to look on the bright side: at least you'll get an extra hour in bed.
Oh, and the hose-pipe ban is lifted. Not that you'll be needing to use your hose-pipes at the moment.
I blame El Niño.
BBC: Potter publisher halts Asda order
The publisher of the final Harry Potter book has cancelled an order to supply 500,000 copies to Asda supermarkets across the UK.
This is all about greed. Greed on the part of the publisher for wanting to over-charge for cheaply made, mass-produced books (because they can). Greed on the part of Asda for wanting to lower prices to out-sell the competition (and, in the process, put small bookshops out of business by cherry-picking the top-selling titles).
There really is no excuse for buying books from supermarkets.
BBC: UK adults fail child's maths test
One in 14 adults cannot answer a maths question aimed at eight-year-old children, a survey suggests.
One in 14… That's almost 23%!
BBC: Town pledges to bin plastic bags
Traders in Hebden Bridge have pledged to make the town plastic bag free following a campaign by a group of women dubbed the "bag ladies".
Two-thirds of the town's 109 traders have backed the initiative, which will mean free plastic bags will no longer be available in shops from 1 September.
Hitchin's sister used to make a point of ordering Coke™ whenever she visited a McDonald's™, just to hear them say (as per script), "We have McDonald's Cola™!" That was in the days before McDonald's™ caved in and started selling Coke™.
In tribute to Hitchin's sister, I am now going to make a point of asking for plastic bags whenever I shop locally in Hebden Bridge. "Can I have a plastic bag, please?" I will ask. And when they tell me it will cost me 10p (or whatever), I will say, "Oh, forget it, then, the deal's off!" And I will storm out of the shop.
Actually, no I won't. I'm prepared to give this one a go. But please don't tell any of my friends: I do, after all, have a reputation to live down to.
(Oh, and remind me to tell you about my Tesco™ Bag for Life scam some time. It's quite devious.)
An environmentalist writes:
New Scientist Environment Blog: Fred's Footprint: Dirty footprints on a local bus
Seeking to lower my personal carbon footprint, I have been holidaying in southern England, not far from my London. I travelled to the South Downs by bus. What could be greener? Quite a lot, it seems…
Even assuming my Stagecoach bus manages the same fuel efficiency in the lanes of Sussex that National Express attains on motorways, it seems pretty clear that our footprint would have been less if we had rented an SUV for our jaunts. And, for our Petworth to Midhurst journey, the truth appears to be that my wife and I must have been responsible for emissions of about 300 grams of CO2 each per kilometre travelled - bigger than if we had been flying to Hong Kong.
(Not that going to Hong Kong has anything to do with it, you understand, when it comes to per kilometer calculations.)
It's nice to see someone tell it like it is. The sad truth is, the vast majority of the buses I see every day are practically empty—which pretty much destroys their supposedly green credentials. And as for their 'fighting congestion', that's a load of old bollocks too: what do you think it is that causes the congestion in the first place by having their own dedicated lanes or stopping every couple of hundred yards to take on or let off minuscule numbers of passengers?
Don't get me wrong: buses are a vital part of our (pretty dire) transport infrastructure, but let's stop harping on about how green they are.
Online chat with Carolyn last night:
Carolyn: I just wanted to tell you - I passed my Sniffing test - I'm VERY excited!
Me: That is FANTASTIC! Do you get a badge?
Carolyn: I get to be an official project 'tester' for [the company], and what's more - if I get hairy armpits, I can be an armpit tester as well!
…for tomorrow they'll ban it.
Serves us right for not cutting the smokers a bit of slack. It's gone to their heads:
BBC: Tax alcohol more says top doctor
Tax on alcohol should be increased to reduce the damage being caused to people's health, the Chief Medical Officer for England has said…
Increased taxation citing health reasons is already in use with regard to tobacco.
Because, as we all know, increasing taxation was incredibly effective at getting people to give up smoking.
I have reluctantly decided not to put myself forward for London mayor. I spent many hours non-existent-soul-searching before coming to this decision. I hope the good citizens of London will try to contain their disappointment, but it was never meant to be.
It wasn't the fact that I have never lived in London that dissuaded me. Dick Whittington didn't come from London either, and it didn't do his mayoral aspirations any harm. What put me off was the realisation that, when it comes to playing politics, I am a witless buffoon. Which kind of makes you wonder why Boris Johnson is standing.
Oh, and there was the London stereotypes thing as well. I'm all for stereotypes, but I just don't get the London ones.
At a conference in London a few months ago, I found myself cornered by a loudmouthed Londoner who'd had one too many lager and tonics: "My mate Ken, he's from Chiswick. He's mad is Ken! You know what them Chiswickers are like!" he said. I nodded knowingly, wondering what on earth he was on about. "Whereas me, I'm your typical Barnet-man: steady as they come." He didn't look too steady to me.
Over the course of the next twenty hours, my new friend enthralled me with tales of his mates from Brent, Southwark, Ealing and Lewisham, each of whom respectively matched the Brent, Southwark, Ealing and Lewisham stereotypes, whatever the hell those are supposed to be. I decided it was time to take my leave of Barnet Man when he started harping on about his friends from some place called Warcraft. They sounded like a right bunch of thugs.
Which is why I won't be standing for London mayor, you see. I might be a witless buffoon when it comes to politics, but I do at least know that you have to understand your electorate.
Me: Did you enjoy your bath?
Jen: Yes thanks.
Me: You've put perfume on. That's unusual.
Jen: I haven't put perfume on.
Me: Well what's that smell, then?
Jen: It might be my shampoo.
Me: [Sniffing Jen's hair] No, that's not it. It's more pungent than that.
Jen: I think you'll find that's Tesco bath cleaner.
After making passing reference to my Tesco™ Bag for Life Scam the other day, I was almost inundated with a comment from somebody named Linda who was simply dying to know more. So here goes:
It's dead simple, actually. The people on the checkouts at Tesco are told to award you extra green points on your loyalty card based on how many reusable bags for life you use. They are not told to check that you actually fill all your bags; just that you use them. So, instead of filling up, say, three bags for life, half-fill six bags and get double the green bonus points!
Every little helps.
I stopped next to one of those Smart cars at some traffic lights on Tuesday, and couldn't help noticing that the young woman behind the wheel was the spitting image of Paris Hilton.
Then it hit me. Somewhere inside my skull, a remarkably complex network of neurons is being used to store an image of Paris Hilton, along with assorted trivia about her that I won't go into here—this is a family website. Now, there is another set of neurons storing the memory of some poor, unsuspecting girl in a black Smart car. I would surely have forgotten all about her by now, were it not for Paris Hilton.
Paris Hilton is using up space in my brain, and I want it back.
I have far more important uses for my grey matter than storing crap about talentless, American no-marks. Last weekend, for instance, I went upstairs, then realised I had no idea why I had gone up there. Yesterday, I referred to a colleague using the name of a different colleague—I do that all the time. And I still don't have the vaguest recollection of what happened on that pub-crawl with Carolyn all those years ago that she keeps winding me up about.
My brain has limited capacity. It has important jobs to do. Knowing who the shit Paris Hilton is isn't one of them.
Guardian: Renewable energy projects will devour huge amounts of land, warns researcher
Large-scale renewable energy projects will cause widespread environmental damage by industrialising vast swaths of countryside, a leading scientist claims today. The warning follows an analysis of the amount of land that renewable energy resources, including wind farms, biofuel crops and photovoltaic solar cells, require to produce substantial amounts of power.
Jesse Ausubel, a professor of environmental science and director of the Human Environment programme at Rockefeller University in New York, found that enormous stretches of countryside would have to be converted into intensive farmland or developed with buildings and access roads for renewable energy plants to make a significant contribution to global energy demands…
The report breaks what Prof Ausubel calls the "taboo of talking about the strong negative aspects of renewables", by focusing on examples that highlight their limitations. "When most people think of renewables and their impact, they're mistaking pleasant landscaping with what would be a massive industrial transformation of the landscape," he said…
Prof Ausubel said that despite technical and political concerns, nuclear power plants still ranked as the most environmentally-friendly for large conurbations. "The good news about nuclear is that over the past 50 years all of the forms of waste storage seem to have worked."
A major network upgrade is planned for Gruts HQ this weekend. This won't affect the website, but it does mean there won't be any new content. Normal disservice will continue as soon as possible.
If you don't hear anything by Monday, something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. No flowers.
Erm… Does nobody see the irony in this?
BBC: Scotland exempt from UK flag plan
Proposals to fly the Union flag every day on public buildings are set not to apply to Scotland.
It's a bloody crap flag anyway. We should invent a new one. No design consultants. No children's competitions. No symbollix. Just get someone to come up with a half-decent flag.
One with a biscuit on it perhaps.
Everyone likes biscuits.
HOLY CRAP!! I just went outside and the sky was this freakish blue colour. And bang in the middle of it was this blindingly bright round object that appeared to be emanating heat.
I have heard tales of such phenomena, but have, until now, put them down to the ramblings of the deranged and feeble-minded.
It's the dawn of a new era.
BBC: Chanelle walks out of Big Brother
Victoria Beckham fan Chanelle Hayes has become the latest contestant to leave the Big Brother House.
Five words:
WHO GIVES A FLYING SHIT?
Sorry, but it needed saying.
RAF Red Arrows Team News: Display Programme 25 to 29 July
This weekend sees the Team (Reds and Blues) criss-crossing the United Kingdom. Our planned timings are: […]
28 July
1500 Reds depart Edinburgh Airport
1556 Reds arrive RAF Brize Norton
And what is on a direct line between Edinburgh Airport and RAF Brize Norton? That's right: my house! The following should have been included on the above itinerary:
1527 Reds appear out of nowhere, flying in low, tight diamond formation, and startle the crap out of Richard as he is trying to rewire his phone connections
Damn impressive, though. Wish I'd had my camera to hand.
From a telephone conversation with Carolyn this lunchtime.
C: Oh, before you go, Richard… I've been telling my children that you once read a dictionary. Is that right?
R: Which dictionary?
C: Any dictionary.
R: No, it's not right. Why on earth would I want to read a dictionary?
C: I don't know. It just seemed like the sort of thing you would have done.
So it's official: even friends who have known me for 42 years seem to think I need to get a life.
