A house full of condiments but no food

Read the stuff I get paid to write....

2010-04-26T21:13:00.000+01:00

It has been over a month since my last post. I apologise. It is not as though I have had nothing to write. In fact it is quite the opposite. Here is your update - it is not quite an off-the-wall whimsical musing on a seemingly random subject but nevermind, eh.

About the beginning of March I ended my stint as an unemployed person and began work at a lettings agents in Southampton. I worked at the front desk doing admin-type stuff and hearing complaints from tenants whose heating/plumbing/doors/toilets/showers/all of the above had broken. It was not unpleasant work but, as I am sure you can imagine, quite dull.

The people there were very nice, especially so since they didn't bat and eyelid when I told them I was leaving to become a journalist after about five weeks.

Thats right, I did it. After three interviews I landed my dream job. On March 24, I had an interview in Gillingham, Kent for Kent Regional Media. It lasted a whopping seven hours, during which we did apprentice style tasks such as vox pops, writing practice press releases and live stories and a formal and group interviews. There were four of us at interview and of which they employed two.

The following day, I was offered the job. The next weeks were crazy. I kept it to myself - partly because I needed every last penny I could get from work, partly because I didn't want to jinx it and partly because I didn't have a clue how I was going to make it all work!

Two days after being offered the job and three days after interview, I went with my Dad up to Gillingham to drag myself round as many flats as humanly possible in one day. We found a nice one in a little village called Twydall, in my price range. The area is a bit of a chav den and the building is a third floor, mainly council building. But inside it is nice, clean and fairly new.

The three weeks following that and before my start date are a blur of getting stuff for the new flat, spending as many valuable moments with Laura as possible and making sure my Mum was alright following an episode which ended in a pacemaker late March and the death of my Grandad Easter Monday.

Then I moved in. The nights before, I felt like I was in a plane about to jump out. The build up had been a rush of excitement and enthusiasm. But now I was there, fear slipped in. It was a big jump, and it was imminent. I wouldn't know anyone. I wouldn't know the area. I had never lived away from home.

But I did have a parachute. My parents were there for financial support and they and Laura were certainly there for emotional support. The job is my dream job and when she graduates Laura is coming to live with me. So the freefall would be brief, then the glorious coast toward the ground.

I am now about nine days in. I miss Laura, but we speak multiple times a day. I miss home, but I'm on facebook, and my sister came to visit at the weekend. My flat is warm, cosy and starting to feel like home already. The job is everything I hoped it would be. And to top it off, I scored my first front page within two days of being there. Now to grab the next weeks...

Formula One: How to save the sport.

2010-03-14T14:37:00.000Z

I saw about two or three minutes of todays Formula One Grand Prix. I've never really been a fan, but I thought the hype this year sounded quite good - the British team pairing of Jenson and Lewis, Michael Shumacher returning, 4 champions on the grid, Lotus, Aryton Senna's nephew - it sounded like it might be worth tuning in.

But I switched on, and they were already racing - someone was winning, someone did a pitstop, it all looked a bit computer generated and not a lot happened. I switched off again.

Same as ever. Boring. So, I had a think about how I thought it could be changed. Firstly, I'd like to start with the coverage. Martin Brundle to go. In switching from ITV to BBC they, thankfully, got rid of whiny voiced Jim Rosenthal. But they didn't go far enough. Perhaps because my dislike is irrational? I can't seem to put my finger on what annoys me about him - his voice is ok, he's been there and done it, he doesn't really babble too much. If anyone has managed to work out why he is irritating - please post a comment. Coverage-wise, I'd like to see less racing - they just go round and round don't they? Maybe they could have a split screen - some racing in a little box, occaision expanding every 30 mins or so when someone overtakes and a bigger studio set-up where they get celebrity commentators, possibly ones who know little-to-nothing about Formula One to pass judgement. All mention of suspension, aerodynamics, wings, spoilers etc should be banned. Pit stops should be the very height of technicality in the show and viewed as little mysteries - I manage to go months, possibly years without needing new tyres. They need them every hour at the least. And mine only cost £27 a wheel last time.

Secondly, I would make the coverage even less about the racing. The main Formula One coverage would actually be a reality series about the lives of Formula One drivers. We would follow them in their day-to-day lives. Testing, sponsorship obligations, the highs and lows of their relationships, tensions within the team, struggles with drug addiction (see later) et al. This would provide something watchable, rather less like watching someone else playing a computer game.

That's how I would alter TV coverage. Now to the sport itself. And if you thought my earlier ideas were 'out there' just wait for this.

The cars. I would make them slower - then people could actually come to watch and not just see blurs.

The Tracks. Make them prettier. Palm trees, perhaps a water-ford they have to drive through.
The Drivers Here's where we see the real break-through. I would sack most of them. Or at least force them to change. Jenson, the lovable British playboy-cum-champion can stay. Lewis Hamilton can even stay, because despite being un-utterably boring, he is young, he is dating a popstar and he is talented. Shumacher can stay on reputation alone - although he won't feature much in the weekday reality series. Too dull. Alonso can stay, but as long as he is not on his best behaviour and is the stroppy spaniard we would all love him to be.

My theory here, is that, we the public, would like our racing drivers to be rich and irresponsible. A cross between well-bred footballers (lets face it, you have to be rich to be in F1) and James Bond. They should be encouraged to get drunk before practice. Some should then oversleep and not turn up. Some should get in to hard drugs and we should see their battles with addiction. Max Mosely should remain, or be reinstated at the top (whatever) for his S&M kinkiness. One should have a gambling addiction. There should be women drivers. There should be disabled drivers (obviously they'd be allowed to park at the front of the grid.)Everyone should either have a messed-up, Kerry Katona-style love-life or a celebrity/ model/ pop star/ movie star girlfriend/ boyfriend/ husband/ wife/ mistress, or ideally both. That way F1 magazine would be readable too. If they're still mind-numbingly tedious, they should be made to all live in the same house without any helpers.

Implement these changes and watch the profits and viewing-ratings soar. Its a sport-reality hybrid, bringing a whole new meaning to car crash TV. Brilliant.

Are you taking the piss?

2010-03-02T16:36:00.000Z

Today I write about satire. Everyone like to take the piss, don't they. To have a bit of a laugh. I think it is especially appealing when other people so obviously don't get the joke. So, today I will share with you some of my personal favourites.

The idea came to me yesterday while reading this blog on the Times website. Its a fairly run-of-the-mill article if truth be told, just made hilarious by pretty moronic comments - especially the irony of some of the commenters who tried to play the race card. It'll take a while, but it's worth it.

http://timesonline.typepad.com/line_and_length/2010/02/tendulkar-not-as-good-as-bopara.html

The next one, I must admit, I thought was genuine for a little while. But then again I am gullible. About half way through though, it does become screamingly obvious.

http://www.scrum.com/sixnations/rugby/story/111936.html

This one, I am not sure if it is a wind up. But I think it is. Check it out and be sure to leave your comments - whether it is to laugh at my stupidity or to share your own opinions links.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2010/jan/20/rise-of-the-sarcmark

Besides mentioning cricinfo's regular column by Alan Tyers which is always a laugh and carries the disclaimer 'Any or all quotes and facts in this article may be wholly or partly fictional (but you knew that already, didn't you?)', I will share one last vintage bit of satire with you. Brasseye.

http://www.youtube.com/show?p=atn8D9i3HVU&feature=fvsp

My new fascination

2010-02-26T14:02:00.001Z

I love Masterchef. It is a simple fact. Every few months I need a primetime television programme to grip me, and this time it is Masterchef. That is not to say it is without rival - Relocation Relocation and A Place in the Sun: Home or Away fought hard for my adulation too.

It is also worth noting that past winners of the 'Managed to capture Jim's attention prize' are The Apprentice, The X Factor and, um, the latest series of Silent Witness. Whereas all of the other shows had their enormous disadvantages - I don't think I would want to work with any of the contestants on the Apprentice or for Alan Sugar, and the X factor is a bit like dreadful corporate karoake - I can't really see a drawback with Masterchef. It is good clean, cooking-based fun. By and large, we don't get a sob story or a big 'I wanna change my life' montage on Masterchef - although one woman went close yesterday (still didn't get her through though). It is, pretty much, just about the cooking. And the cherry on the top is that the judges are not actually hideously frustrating.

Even though Gregg Wallace looks from the outside vicious enough to go round scarying puppies and schoolchildren, he actually comes across as a nice guy. They always seem justified in their conclusions and seem to know who can take the mean criticisms and who can't ('I wanna like it - but I don't know if I do.') One thing I have learnt, however, you'd be stupid to cook them asparagus. I have always thought it an average veg - not big on anything. It looks posh, I grant you, which is presumably why just about everybody cooks it. But if you dare to put it on their plate, at least fifty percent of the time they turn their noses up and tell you there are too many flavours. I think they should just be honest and say 'I don't like asparagus.' Or maybe screw their faces up like five year olds, spit it out and say 'yuk! aparagus. disgusting.' I might like the show even more then.

Yesterday's viewing provided a couple of high points for me. Yesterday, I was intrigued by a contestant. Peter made it through the first bit and then bombed in the restaurant. He seemed to enjoy cooking only so he could 'show off' and when he left the show he said he would continue cooking, 'but not for a while.' Where's the soul, man? Cooking was literally something he did to look a smart-alec. He cook crappy filo pastry lamb parcels and various tinsy little things with long/complex names. I would like to ask him if he has actually cooked food to eat, or ever fed people, his family maybe? The answer certainly looked like a no, and his inability to combine flavours seemed to reinforce that.

My second high point yesterday was Michael, the business student whose mum was a school chef. I wish there was more of him. In his first and only round he 'cooked' a stewed apple on a bed of rocket and some little globules of lamb topped with apricot and chilli puree. It's already wierd, right?

Then, in his interview with the chef's while cooking he came across as a kind of hyperactive andrex puppy. Slightly, bizarely lovable, yes. Masterchef, no. Next, he confused rocket with baby spinach. Really?! On bloody Masterchef. That's like going on Mastermind with the specialist subject Disney films and answering 'Thumper' to the question 'Name one of the seven dwarves.'

I loved the judge's critique of his food. "That's, ummm, that's an uncooked Bramley apple," said Gregg. "That's inedible." Silence. Wide-eyed embarassment. "Uncooked Bramley apple, raw bits of spinach underneath, and this apricot mixture with cream and chilli blended in it together - it is just completely incorrect in every single rule of cookery," was John Torode's take. Fantastic. He took it well, the poor boy. But it did leave me with a bit of a bad taste in my mouth. Did he do that for a bet? Surely no-one could cook that badly, seriously. It must have been a practical joke. Michael's fair assessment: "I tried to push the boat out, but it kind of sank." Spot on, Michael.

Oh, and some woman cooked a chocolate brownie with beetroot. Odd.

Re: Job application

2010-02-25T12:59:00.001Z

I'll be honest. I stand pretty much in the middle-ground when it comes to Europe and I would describe myself as pretty anti UKIP. That said, the video which I am about to share with you is really quite funny.

And I'm pretty sure most of us feel the same. Herman van Rompuy, the president of Europe a non-descript kind of fellow isn't he. In fact, if I didn't have to learn his name for a public affairs exam, it is possible I wouldn't know who he is either. No-one really knows what his job is either - a reason for which I've had explained to me as 'he's the first one, so we're not sure what his job is.' Sounds like a good gig to me. Think I should have probably sent my CV in for that. I'd imagine the interview could be a little tricky if the only thing anyone knows about the job is its title. Oh, and salary - more than Obama. Woweee. I'd do it for half the price.

I'll be honest with you now, but only because I am confident I will not be alone - I do not think I would even know there was such a thing as a European president if it wasn't for the hoo-ha a few months ago of them not letting old Tony the warmonger Blair have a go.

All the same, this attack, although unwarranted, unnecessary and coming from a highly disagreeable source is particularly entertaining. So if you've not seen it yet, sit back and enjoy.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8535121.stm

It wouldn't even pour out of the tin.

2010-02-24T16:16:00.000Z

Today I bring you a tale of not one, but two culinary disasters. That of the pasta-pie and the gravy cake.

On Sunday, as is my custom as a refined English gent, I cooked up a lovely roast with my lady, Laura. This week roast pork. The meat was lovely. We covered it in a bit of mustard to add in a touch of flavour and roasted with all due care and attention. It cannot be faulted. Well, actually, it can. The crackling didn't really crackle, which was a shame. But t'was lovely nevertheless. The roast potatoes were crispy and flavourful on the outside but like little clouds on the inside. Perfection. The veg, with teeny-tiny chantenay carrots and sweet soft peas were, again splendid. We always cheat on the yorkshire pudding, by using asda's 9p batter mix, but again, it was gorgeous. So far, it's going well. Even old Gregg Wallace and John Torode would have sung its praises like a pair of robins atop a grand old oak.

But then I ruined it. And it is key here, that I don't implicate Laura. She had nothing to do with the catastrophe of which you are about to hear.

Gravy, I thought. Simple. Normally, we'd use Bisto. Nuh-uh, I thought. I can make gravy. We removed the meat from the roasting dish into which I put a little touch of flour and whisked around a bit. Et voila. Perfect. Just nowhere near enough, it would'nt have been enough for a child's dinner. So what could I do. The answer, I'm afraid to say is panic. I boiled the kettle. I chucked in a couple of stock cubes. Now it was too thin. It looked like a muddy puddle. More flour? Of course more flour. But then it didn't seem to be doing anything. More flour. Still nothing. More Flour. And More. Then, all of a sudden, the flour took affect all at once and the result was a gravy so thick I could barely move the fork in it. Crikey. Laura poured a little in to a cup and watered it down a little, trying to salvage what I had done. Following here lead I added a lot more water to the roasting dish - to not great affect. After some time I gave up. But my bloody-mindedness alone prevented me from making up a fresh batch of bisto. More fool me. I poured it on (slowly, it didn't really want to leave the jug) and subsequently ruined said near-perfect meal.

Washing up was not a fun task. Needless to say, we didn't try to wash it down the sink. It was a pretty hefty mix, especially after cooling. Could have probably chucked an egg in and baked it for the world's first gravy-cake. yuk.

Onwards then with more misadventure of the culinary kind. Lasagne. Simple, no? Well yes, and again most of it went really well. I made the meaty sauce no problem - no buying a jar of dolmio lasagne sauce 'red' and its accompanying dolmio lasagne sauce 'white' and passing it off as 'making a lasagne' for me thank-you-very-much. Thats assembling not cooking. The bechamel sauce I made was luxuriously thick, glossy and rich and check-me-out no lumps. The dilemma came, actually in terms of chronology, before that when I realised I didn't have enough lasagne sheets. Go to the shops, would have been the easy option. So I went about making my own pasta. Easy. Buoyed by a cricketing friend saying he made a 'kind of ravioli' for his girlfriend on Valentine's day, I got involved. Freshlyt made lasagne sheets.

I got the eggs out, and the flour. I wasn't sure if I had the right flour - I'd never made pasta before, and Jamie (Oliver) suggests Tipo 00 flour in his book. I used Asda Smartprice Plain Flour for mine, but I did sieve it. He then suggests whisking the two. You can use a mechanical whisk, he says, just stop when it goes all breadcrumby. Well, Jamie nearly got the bill for a new whisk. After mere seconds it simply climbed the prongs and tried to suffocate them with its sticky batterness. They were stuck still. Lost, I took it upon myself and cast out Jamie's, otherwise brilliant, book.

After much faffing and kneading and general dough-abuse I had a lovely ball of pasta which I wrapped up and popped in to the fridge. I later took it out, rolled it and assembled my lasagne.

Sounds lovely, I hear you thinking. This is not a culinary disaster. Well not yet it ain't. The problem came in the assembly itself because, and I think this is by topping it off which a layer of my wonderful hand-crafted pasta, it came out looking like a wierd kind of pie. Not an appetising image.

At this point, I must make it clear that this was purely cosmetic and I tasted simply sensational. And it fed the whole family, and I had some for lunch today as well. What a productive afternoon I had yesterday.

Next up on Jim's hitlist - homemade chocolate. Not even Laura thinks I can manage it. Well, maybe she won't get any of it then!

It's better than ooh-ahh Cantona, anyway.

2010-02-18T19:50:00.003Z

A short one today. I just stumbled over this - obviously it would have been better if I had found it a week or so ago, but still brilliant.

Jim's foray into web design

2010-02-17T11:29:00.000Z

Yesterday, I took a step in to the unknown. Well, a double unknown really. I'm currently not working at a newspaper (things will soon change, you'll see.) So I thought it a good idea to keep my foot in the journalism door - just enough to let a little light peep through the threshold to the promised land.

This involved signing up to sub-edit one of our proud nation's finest websites on Italian football, free of charge and in my spare time - which is depressingly plentiful at the moment - while I carefully and lovingly prepared packages of CVs, cover letters and painstakingly chosen cuttings to send to already-inundated editors, and less lovingly prepared CVs and cover letters to agencies and jobsites for temp work.

Sub-editing, I figured, is an additional skill an editor will be impressed with, an especially in web-format. I've grabbed the latest zeitgeist by the horns and am currently grappling in the dust with it.

If this doesn't add another string to my bow - I don't know what does. Still, I had to come to terms with the fact I know very little about how the internet works at present. Boy did I learn a lot yesterday, my first day! I'd never used html before, but turns out its not too bad to do simple things - but it is chuffing repetitive. And the software with which I am expected to work is pre-historically slow. I could have hand-written the article and posted it to each individual reader in the time it took to upload. I think the finished article is quite good though. I won't bother with a link to let you check it out. Chin up.

Instead, here's a link to web design for dummies instead.

Right then, unknown one conquered. I can now manage simple web design. Unknown two. I'm not actually an authority on Italian football. This is the lesser unknown as far as I'm concerned. I may not be an expert, but I do know football fairly well-ish. I have a great understanding of sport in general and sub-editing is more about checking spelling, grammar, tightening up and layout etc. So I'm fine. Would've been screwed if it had been written in Italian though!

Yesterday, I read on the interweb something I thought was fantastic. Computer Programmer Barbie. Brilliant. Here's the link to the story on the beeb.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/8517097.stm

And I think it's fantastic they gave her glasses. It's like Mattel thought, 'You know what girls can be IT technicians too, but we best make her a bit realistic and nerdy - lets give her some glasses.' Tut, tut at their stereotyping.

I've been thinking though, I've just delved into the world of webdesign - can I be the template for the new techno-ken?

Octogenarians having a word in a coffee shop

2010-02-11T11:52:00.000Z

Drastic action must be taken. Something must be done, and that something is the introduction of dinner ladies to Trago Lounge.

As many of you will know, Trago Lounge is a large coffee-shop-cum-bar at the end of Portswood High Street in Southampton. I've blogged about it before; it's nice, tastful, calm and all candle-y. Very nice.

The best feature, as far as I am concerned, is that you can go there and play scrabble.

My ladyfriend, Laura, and I like a quiet evening in Trago Lounge with a hot chocolate, or a cup of tea, or maybe a cheeky glass of vino and a game of scrabble. However, when we went there just the other day the scrabble was not there!

I know what you are feeling right now, dear reader, its like that bit in Midsomer Murders where the decapitated head is found on the sideboard. Pure Shock (but in a gentle Sunday evening way). *Did anyone see Midsomer Murders last night? Good, wasn't it?*

This discovery, or rather lack of one, knocked us a bit off kilter in all honesty. We tried arm-wrestling, I lost (but she cheated). We tried connect 4. I lost hideously every time.

Then we noticed. Like the bit in Midsomer Murders where the nursemaid loving carries the disabled son up the stairs and you suddenly realised she has the motive and the strength to steal a sword from a tomb and wield it on unsuspecting visitors.

We noticed that the group on the table next to us had had scrabble all along. They had horded it and hid it under their table. They must have had four games in total. They didn't need four games. They were only playing one at a time. But yet they deprived us, and potentially two other couples of a game. The fiends!

Obviously we took no action. It would be petty (I'll just write a blog outing them instead). But this is where my proposal comes in, however. If Trago Lounge had dinner ladies, not only could they supervise all of the services, but they could also marshall the games.

"Excuse me deary, but could you just take one game per table please." I can hear it now!

I'm not talking about bar staff with extra duties, forced into Orwell-style fun-policing, but cute old grandmothers with pinafores and a demure authority and natural, lovable dottiness, thats all. Just imagine.

From Hell starring Johnny Depp and Heather Graham...it scared the willies out of me.

2010-02-09T16:43:00.000Z

The Hughes brother's From Hell, another film which mines the deep seams of 'Jack the Ripper' gold, starring Johnny Depp and Heather Graham got an airing on 5ive last night.

I've been wanting to watch this for a while and I was not disappointed.

Everyone has heard of Jack the Ripper, and, for my part I've seen more than a few documentaries about the killings and done a couple of school projects on it. I'm not sure why any of us are fascinated by murder, but as a society we certainly are, and these five are probably the most famous and engaging in all British history. Jack has been named the first serial killer and Ripper trails are still popular in Whitechapel.

From Hell takes its basis from Alan Moore's graphic novel of the same name and stars Johnny Depp as the opium-addicted Inspector Abberline, the man charged with tracking down the killer.

I won't give too much away, but needless to say, he does. Inbetween menacing, brooding shots of Victorian London and graphic images of brutality and mutilation there is just enough humanity in the characters to keep you interested. Depp and Robbie Coltrane as his assistant are really very good. Heather Graham and her cohort of (on-screen) prostitutes are a little grating in their typical horror-movie fodder ways. The character motivation in parts appears to be: "There's a killer on the loose tracking down all of our friends so I'm just going to pop out on my own for a bit then get in the cab of a shady looking man"

There's a cracking Da Vinci Code style twist and a genuinely touching ending. If I hadn't been shaking so much with fear, I probably would have cried. And lo and behold if there isn't another sucker punch just seconds later which nearly pushes you over the edge in to weepy-ville.

Part of the allure of the Ripper murders is that they were unsolved and it allows conspiracies to run wild. This film treads a careful line then, providing some kind of resolution while also feeding the conspiracy-theorist within us all. Great film.

If this is your kind of thing, you may also like Whitechapel, about a copycat killer, or Vic Reeves did a quite good Ripper documentary.

Four quid for a haircut, I should co-co

2010-02-08T10:45:00.004Z

I finished my journalism course on friday. Sad faces all-round. Well, actually it is good news - I'm ready, ready to be snapped up by editors nation-wide. Come get me.

So, to prepare myself for this brave new world, as well as applying to a select few publications I thought it was to get my barnet trimmed. You wouldn't want to turn up to a big interview with a ginger cloud on your head, would you?

The problem was, however,a distinct lack of funds. Poor old Jim, until he finds some reputable employment or manages to sell some of his wonderful, engaging prose in freelance form, is broke.

The answer to this dilemma? Why, a four-pound haircut courtesy of the college's hairdressing students. I was leaving that very day, so it would be foolish not to take one more nibble at the student pie.

Immediately after my shorthand exam (don't ask) and before my wind-down meeting/ awards presentation (law lecturers award, thanks for asking) I popped my head round the corner of the salon.

It's very nice in there, as you'd expect with a new campus. Its all shiny and fresh smelling and certainly makes a change from the back-street barbers I normally frequent.

And on with the haircut.

I was greeted by a girl, dressed all in black - as is the uniform, who smiled the smile they taught her to and led me over to the booth the way they taught her to.

Before gowning me up she pulled out a perplexing looking form. I take that back, it wasn't perplexing - it was multiple choice - but it was a bit no holds barred.

Perusing the choices I thought I was going to have to fill in a self-appraisal of my hair. Scalp - dry, greasy or flaky? hmmm, tough one.

Luckily, I was spared the shame and she took it away after to fill in and presumably share with all that would listen. Still, £4.

The haircut was OK to be fair to the girl. She did the hairdresser's usual patter - this time with college theme. 'What do you study, then?' 'yeh, yeh, hmmm, yeh.' blah blah bloody-blah.

I'm not much of a talker when I get my haircut - I prefer them to be concentrating - but the conversation-by-numbers was bearable. It may have even been nice if that's your kind of thing. £4, as well - can't complain.

There was a moment of panic in the chair, though, when she casually announced 'You're supposed to get another, more complicated certificate if you want to cut mens hair, but I'm not doing that one.' That wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear with a razor slicing the hair of the back of my head.

I think I may have been this girl's, a final year student no-less (I must be getting good value for money) first male project. She was a little uncertain, to say the least, on a few of the techniques.

Razor-wise, she did miss a few bits. And she wasn't great over the ears. Her lecturer came round and inspected, a couple of times tidying up. According to her mentor, and I would agree from my position of ignorance, she was fine with the 'scissor over comb' technique (bit of a ronseal name, that). The problem came, however when her teacher, tracy, suggested she use a little 'razor over comb' for a couple of little tricky bits.

I am aware there is a bit of a stereotype when it comes to hairdressers, and I am sure must be entirely foundationless. But, come on. I'm not a final year hairdressing student and I may be able -just about- to work out what the 'razor over comb' technique involves. Especially if I was such an expert at the 'scissor over comb.' But, bless the poor girl - it had probably been a long week and she looked pretty dumbfounded.

That aside, I'm quite happy with my new-do. And only four-quid. I did, of course have to make some alterations myself when I got home. The We Are Scientists style fringe was not really what I was looking for, but its nothing a little 'razor over comb' couldn't rectify.

I may have come across a bit negative in this post, but I actually would recommend a £4 haircut. It's undeniably cheap. But it is smart now its all tidied up. My hairdresser cannot be faulted for effort and, after all, she does still have 5 months left of her course. I'm sure she'll develop in to a pretty good trimmer at the end of it all.

Newsround makes me feel stupid

2010-01-27T23:54:00.003Z

Ok, it is twenty-past midnight, but it is the night before my court reporting law exam, so I'm allowed a spot of stress-induced insomnia.

I would like to invite you into my world, dear reader. Well, sort of.

I have spent days and days of relentlessly revising Media Law. Below I have listed, off the top of my head just some of the multitude of things I have had to remember, for two reasons: i, a spot of self-testing and revision, and ii, so you can actually see how dull it is.

I would advise you to skip this next bit, unless you are studying it, or you're a sadist, or you're a wierd pervert who gets a strange satisfaction from lists of acts of parliament. If you are the latter, here comes some steamy, red-hot action for ya.

The Children and Young Persons Act 1933 (sections 37,47, 39 and 49) and the Youth Justice and Criminal Evidence Act 1999 (s46 - vulnerable witnesses - where the quality of evidence of cooperation would be diminished by fear or distress), The Crime Sentences Act 1997, (s45) the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1997 and the Contempt of Court Act (sections 3,4, 4(2), 4(3), 5, 9 and 11), R v Arundel Justices 1987(relating to s11 CoCA 1981),R v Evesham Magistrates (section 11 should not be applied solely for the peace and comfort of mind), R v Felixstowe Magistrates 1988 ('There's no such person known to law as the anonymous JP') The Sexual Offences Amendment Act 1992, Defamation Act 1996 (with relation to privilege), The Criminal Justice Acts 1925 (photographs and drawings) and s159 of 1988 (right to challenge court orders) and, of course, The Magistrates Court Act 1980.

My point for this post is this, aside from the fact I cannot sleep, I thought my days had been spent learning something fairly meaty. Complex. A bit intellectual. It turns out I am wrong. And here's the proof.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/cbbcnews/hi/newsid_4390000/newsid_4396900/4396943.stm

Sure, there's no acts of parliaments methodically listed, but the bulk of it is all there. Bloody Newsround. For Children. There's even a section on jigsaw identification - like any child needs to know that.

The way I see it, I now have three options:

Number 1, I (self-importantly) tell myself that this is just for kids and would not even scrape the surface of what I need to know. I simply operate on a higher plane.

Number 2, I put my head in my hands. I have an honest chat with myself along the lines of 'Jim. If you fail this exam tomorrow, you may as well ring up Dick and Dom because you are not smarter than a ten year old. You are a failure and you will never get a job, even a poorly paid one.' This option will not lead to much sleep.

Number 3, I swallow my pride and swot up on the far-from-technical-yet-scarily-well-worded Newsround summaries and definitions, supplementing them with my own revision notes and go in to my exam tomorrow at midday and ace it.

Decisions, decisions, decisions...

Jedward and Vanilla Ice

2010-01-25T17:19:00.001Z

I am not going to comment on this, except to say that it has come to something when Vanilla Ice is needed to lend something credibility...

A little bit of interactivity

2010-01-18T22:45:00.001Z

I have just stumbled across quite a fun website. Some of it is quite irreverent, so you may not want to go there if you have a sense of humour deficit. For everyone else though...

Created by Oatmeal

You can find out so interesting things on that site. For example, I discovered that I would survive for 55 seconds after kicking a bear in the balls. Why I need to know that and why I would do that to a bear? Irrelevant.

Sherlock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels...

2010-01-15T18:31:00.002Z

Holmes has undergone a testosterone-fuelled make-over in Guy Ritchie's reinterpretation of the world's most famous sleuth.

Gone are the deerstalker and pipe and in comes bare-knuckle boxing and grappling with seven-foot henchmen.

So presumably Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Pompey's most famous goalkeeper, will be spinning in his grave? Actually, you'd assume not.

For one thing, the hoopla surrounding the film has created renewed interest in the original writing.

Portsmouth Museums have been running their own 'Study in Sherlock' exhibition with first editions of the book, film and television memorabilia and is narrated by Stephen Fry.

“There has been a constant flow of people,” said Michael Gunton, Policy, Planning and Collection Manager for Portsmouth Museums. “It will stimulate a lot of interest.”

He is positive about the film and says: “It is a new take. It will bring people back to the books, so that's great.”

And while the film could be accused of sexing-up Holmes, it certainly is a thrilling ride.

It stays faithful to the original stories, generally, by lifting much of its dialogue from the books themselves. The characters feel authentic and Robert Downey Jnr, as he did with Chaplin, really inhabits the role giving it an emotional intensity.

Jude Law's Watson is actually better than many of the preceding 'traditional' versions that came before. He has been granted some depth by Ritchie, a character the audience can root for rather than get frustrated at.

The film is great in terms of character and the relationships between them, and there doesn't seem to be too much action forsaking all else. However, where Sherlock Holmes does fall down is in its lack of mystery.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is credited as being the father of modern detective fiction, but in this adaptation the age-old fun of guessing the murderer is out of the picture straight-away.

From the off, it is clear who the murderer is and the mystery is 'how'. A disappointing feature, particularly the audience really has no hope of guessing how the crimes were committed unless they are smoking the same stuff as Sherlock.

Puppy's midnight feast on burglar

2010-01-14T13:03:00.002Z

A BURGLAR was disturbed in flat in North End as the tenant's dog pounced in to action and proved that it's bite was much worse than it's bark.

But the puppy's owner refused to report the crime initially because she feared Police would kill her dog.

“She's not vicious at all. I didn't think she had it in her,” said the owner, who wishes to remain anonymous, through fear that her dog may be snatched.
On Wednesday, December 30, the tenant and her family were asleep in their home in Arundel Street when, between 4.45 and 5 am there was a noise outside on their balcony. It is the second attempted burglary at the flat in recent months.
“They got through the second part of the balcony door,” said the tenant.

Of her five dogs, only her little, normally timid, Staffordshire terrier puppy, Dolce, was alarmed. Dolce jumped up barking and chased the burglar back outside.
Dolce bit the assailant on the leg as he tried to make a getaway over the fence.
“She jumped about six feet in the air,” said her proud owner. “She was a brave girl. He could have had a weapon on him or anything.”

Unfortunately, Dolce is still a puppy and the attempted burglar got away.

Dolce's owner was terrified that the dog would be destroyed if she reported the crime to the police.
She said: “I quickly went and brushed her teeth.” She then cleaned up the pool of blood that was left before deciding what to do next.

“I spoke to Citizen's Advice Bureau and apparently there's a law and you are allowed to protect your property.”

She then rang the police who reassured her the dog would be fine.

PC Allison Fraser said: “This man attempted to burgle a family in their home. Fortunately, the noise made but the five dogs that live at the house prevented this from happening.

“Do you know anyone who came home on the morning on December 30 with an injury to their leg that they cannot account for?

“I would anyone with information to come forward with any details they have. I strongly believe that someone out there knows who this man is and can help us protect other people from him.

Ex-RAF man uses military experience to clear Portsmouth

2010-01-13T19:48:00.001Z

As snow wreaked havoc throughout the south, one neighbourhood showed some grit and good old community spirit.

Led by Wing-Commander Paddy O'Kennedy, Farlington residents braved the treacherous conditions to clear the snow and ice from 400-yard-long Galt Road.

“The main roads are clear, but you just cannot get to them,” said Paddy, who lives on Grant Road. “We have helped elderly residents that could not get to the shops.”

Paddy rang Portsmouth City Council, who told him they were struggling with depleted grit resources, and said his road was not a priority.

“I told them I was going to do it myself,” he said. “I put together a small flyer to let them know the council were not going to do anything.”

Along with his wife and children he busily posted the flyers through neighbours’ letterboxes. One recipient was the head of the Neighbourhood Watch, who emailed the flyer to all members.

The result was beyond what Paddy was expecting. He said: “About 150 turned out. I was massively delighted.

I was expecting maybe 40 or 50. It was incredible.”

It took the team about an hour to clear the 400-yard stretch, under the expert leadership of Paddy, who has plenty Army experience clearing Arctic Roads in countries like Norway.

Even those not lending a hand got stuck in with the Great British Blitz spirit.

“We had hot chocolate, tea, coffee, roast potatoes and even a bottle of brandy showed up,” said Paddy.

Andrew Elliot: Auctioneer, huntsman, activist.

2009-12-27T10:11:00.004Z

“It's a proper, proper autumn day at Fontwell today” screams horse-auctioneer Andrew Elliott, attempting to dress up a cold, wet November afternoon.

Described by the Independent as one of the leading horse auctioneers in the country, he stands on a rostrum in the middle of the ring, pulling out every stop to flog the winner of the day's selling race. It's a thankless task, no one is remotely interested.

Despite Andrew's larger-than-life passion and gusto on the platform, not a single bid is entered and the winning nag returns to its stable.

On stage, he is a million-words-a-minute, relentless selling machine, but in person he is more reserved. Though quieter off the platform he still rarely takes a breath for air. He stands uncomfortably close and fixes you with his eyes. His voice is that of a proper English country gent, exactly in keeping with his tweed-heavy style.

“I've got a stammer,” he says “ It generally doesn't happen on the rostrum but when I speak one to one it often comes out. That adds an extra e-dge.”

Forty-six-year-old Andrew lives just outside Ledbury with his son, daughter and his 'good lady': “We're all very happy,” he says, although with the pressure of the job he admits: “My family suffer slightly because they don't see a great deal of me. When they do see me I'm nearly always grumpy because I've given all my bonhomie and good spirit to the clientèle.”

He has been selling horses for Brightwells, a large auctioneering firm in Leominster since 1992. “This job is very much seven days a week, 24 hours a day. You're always on call for one reason or another,” he says.

He is a keen huntsman. “I used to ride for a living. I used to be a professional huntsman with a pack of fox hounds,” he says “That was wonderful. It was all I did from a boy.”

Perhaps fanatical is a more fitting word. In September 2004 he made national news as one of the 'Westminster Eight' convicted for invading the house of commons during a debate of the Hunting Bill.

While rock-star-son Otis Ferry was the most high profile, Andrew Elliott achieved some fame. Horse and Hound and the Countryside Alliance were both supportive, campaigning to pay the protester's fees.

His passion on the rostrum is not just for show, his life is backs up his vigour on the selling-platform. After the Commons incident, his boss at Brightwell's, Terry Court said: “He can be a bit headstrong now and again and leaps before he thinks and unfortunately that's what he's done. “

Of his job, he says: “I enjoy it. I love it. It's like being on stage. You always get a few pre-sale nerves no matter how long you've been doing it. It just gives you a bit of an edge. It doesn't matter if I'm selling welsh ponies, thoroughbred horses or I'm doing this.”

Theatre and stage are words that Andrew uses frequently to describe his craft. The performance is clearly the buzz. “The best horse I've sold in a selling race this year, entered at £2,900, was bought in for £24,000,” he says excitedly.

But he insists that like any job, 'there are good days and there are bad days': “Most of the time I'm in an office but I was amazed to find I've done 50,000 miles in 18 months, all connected with horse sales. You're on the road a lot and with all the traffic problems it's very wearing and demanding.”

While he described travelling as the worst part of the job, he is also not altogether comfortable with his work load. “We've been through a very busy sale season. I haven't had a week off for the last six weekends,” he says. “You've got to do a lot of homework. You've got to know who the personalities are. You've got to know who the individuals are, who the horses are, what their features are, and make decisions quite snappily.

“You're dealing with a lot of people and it can be very problematic. It might appear as a bit of glamour but that's the tip of the iceberg. Underneath you're peddling furiously to make sure you're looking after everyone.”

Pushing the pope over....the worrying trend of attacking world leaders

2009-12-25T01:47:00.008Z

Aside from the fact he is an elderly man who is very important to millions of people, this clip did make me laugh. It is the perfect take-down.

While we're discussing the Pope, am I the only one who finds him bringing midnight mass forward also quite funny?

From the BBC website:

The Vatican said earlier that the decision to move the midnight Mass to 2200 (2100 GMT) was "to make Christmas a little less tiring for the Pope, who has many engagements"

"Other arrangements"? I'm thinking, a cup of hot bovril in front of the Only Fools and Horses repeats on Dave before bed.

Seriously though, if you are the sole representative of God and Jesus on Earth, the most important holy figure on the planet, is it not a bit rude to naff off early from Jesus' Birthday party?

I can't believe the Pope snubbed Jesus. If the Pope can't be bothered, there's quite a few other Christians that could stay up til midnight for midnight mass.

There cannot be too many other dates for his holiness' diary more significant than Christmas, can there?

I don't mean to be horrid to all the Roman Catholics or any other Christians out there in cyberspace (that would be a mistake - I cite the crusades) I am pretty non-committal about religion. It seems to be too divisive and troublesome to get stuck into.

I won't even be persuaded by old Dickie Dawkins (have you ever tried to read The God Delusion - exactly!)

But, in the name of tradition I wish you Happy Christmas. I hope you have a good one. Rest assured my next entry will probably be one of those stereotypical, grumpy-old-men-style 'isn't Christmas shit' type rants. But you never know, I may be overwhelmed by goodwill. We can only hope.

And now to a more serious subject. This is the second time in just over a week that a major world figure has been publicly attacked. Even in our own country, looking not too far back:

At the beginning of December, Baroness Warsi was pelted with eggs (and she wins the award for greatest composure and dignity by far). And even further back John Prescott was even attacked. He is last in the rankings of composure and dignity, but he did land quite a satisfying blow back.

The silvio Berlusconi attack and now the Pope attack are examples of major world leaders being in serious danger. The latter especially considering in the two events happened in the same country. You would expect security to be sky high.

It is worrying. I'm certain no one's forgotten JFK.

It might be a bit conspiracy theorist to throw the name Obama in here, but having just pushed through an historical health bill (which is clearly long overdue in America)he won't be the most popular man in the American right.

I'm sure he's pretty safely guarded though. After all there must still be some very, very pissed off racists in America.

Christmas cracker jokes: a whole genre of its own

2009-12-21T14:37:00.003Z

You may have noticed that it is Christmas.

And at Christmas, magical things happen. More than that though, un-magical things happen. Those things that make you cringe. The ones that would annoy you if it were not Christmas.

Most Christmas songs, queues in shops, being told when you can post a letter. Fat, bearded, sweaty men going in to caves with children.

Nobody really likes Christmas crackers because their lame. But it is this very criteria which makes them brilliant at this time of year.

So here is a selection of jokes that I particularly liked that I have stolen from the internet. No source has been left un-pillaged.

And none of these are original, so don't blame me.

I'd love for you to share your own via the comments box at the end. I like a laugh.

What lies at the bottom of the sea and shivers?
A nervous wreck

What is black and white and noisy?
A zebra with a drum kit

What do you call a nun that sleepwalks?
A roaming Catholic.

What do they sing at a snowman's birthday party?
Freeze a jolly good fellow

What would you get if all the cars in Britain were red?
A red carnation

What is green and stands in the corner?
A naughty frog

How do monkeys make toast?
Stick some bread under the gorilla

What wobbles and flies?
A Jelly-copter.

How do you get a fat person in bed?
A piece of cake.

Why did the golfer wear two pairs of trousers?
In case he got a hole in one.

What do you call a donkey with three legs and one eye?
A winky wonky donkey.

Why do anarchists only drink herbal tea...
Because all property is theft!

Why can't you go fishing with a bearded man?
Because you need a fishing rod

A victorian policeman sees a drunk in the gutter. On closer inspection he sees that it is in fact Dr Watson. Turning him over the policeman said " Oi! Haven't you got Holmes to go to!"

What do you get if you cross a cowboy with an octopus?
Billy the squid

Why can't a bike stand up by itself?
Because it's two-tired

What's ET short for?
Because he's only got little legs

What fur do we get from a tiger?
As fur as possible

Why do birds fly south in winter?
Because it's too far to walk

How does Jack Frost get to work?
By icicle

What kind of lighting did Noah use for the ark?
Floodlights

What happened to the hyena who fell into a pot of gravy?
He made a laughing stock of himself.

He made a laughing stock of himself.

Be careful with drinking this Christmas. I got so drunk last night I found myself dancing in a cheesy bar… Or, as you like to call it, delicatessen.

What goes ha ha ha clonk?
A man laughing his head off

Why is it so difficult to train dogs to dance?
They have two left feet.

A man goes to the doctor and says: "Doctor, I've got a strawberry stuck up my bum."
And he replied: "It's OK, I'll give you some cream for that."

What do you get when you cross a cat with a lemon?
A sour puss!

What's worse than finding a worm in your apple?
9/11.

How do you make Lady Gaga cry?
Poker face.

What do you give a man who has everything?
Antibiotics.

A man goes to see his Doctor and says: "Doctor I have a lettuce stuck in my bottom."
The Doctors takes a look and replies: "That's only the tip of the iceberg."

Did you hear of the mathematician who had constipation?
In the end he had to work it out with a pencil.

Who is the coolest person at a hospital?
The Ultra Sound Guy!

What's the fastest thing in water?
A motor pike

What lies in a pram and wobbles?
A jelly baby

What's orange and fizzy and comes down the chimney at Christmas?
Fanta Claus!

Why is 6 scared of 7?
Because 7 ate 9

What's the slogan for the Eskimo lottery?
'You've got to be Inuit to win you it!'

A French Cat, Un Deux Trois, and an English cat, One Two Three, went for a swimming race round a lake. Who won?
One Two Thee, because Un Deux Trois Quatre Cinque.

A woman walks into a bar and asks for a double entendre…
So the barman gives her one.

Did you hear about the dyslexic devil worshipper?
He sold his soul to Santa.

What's a specimen?
An Italian Astronaut.

Why has Noddy got a hat with a bell on it?
Because he's a twat.

Now go and share your favourites...

A Christmas Carol - well, it would be rude not to do something a bit festive

2009-12-20T13:07:00.006Z

This week I saw the Jim Carrey, Walt Disney, Coca Cola, ipod version of A Christmas Carol.

I've been on work experience at a newspaper in Bexhill, hence the lack of blogging, and had to travel to Eastbourne to the nearest cinema.

The film's been out a while, and I resisted it a bit, for a couple of reasons.

Number one: I'm all cultured and pretentious and I've read the book by Charlie Dickens. And it's good. And I resisted the film for that age-old reason people always resist books of films - it'll never be as good. Examples - Enduring Love, The Da Vinci Code (and that didn't have a huge amount to live up to now, did it?)

The second is a little disingenuous with the first, and more than a bit pathetic. It is for purely nostalgic reasons. I really liked The Muppet Christmas Carol. There, I said it.

However, I finished at midday over at Bexhill, there was snow on the ground and I was feeling more than a little festive.

In the film's favour was the 3D-ness of it. Yes, it is a gimmick. Yes, it is pointless and seems to mask the fact a film is very average. But, I like both Ice Age 3 - I really want a sloth - and Up - I cried twice.

We arrived at Eastbourne having not checked the schedules. Always a mistake. If you are reading this and you are in the Eastbourne area, be advised that the only 3D showings are 10am Monday to Thursday.

Instead Laura and I had to watch it in boring old 2D. It was all flat and far away. What a ludicrous state of affairs.

The film itself was ok. It was fairly dry and not overtly entertaining. It was the kind of film you watch and you think neither - 'this is wonderful, what larks!' or 'Oh my, let's leave now before my eyeballs start to bleed.'

At the end of the film I came out largely ambivalent. It was a straight telling of a well-known story. There were a couple of little chases and a lot of zooming around Victorian London which would give the 'wow' factor to 3D viewers. (I mean those watching it in 3D. I'm not implying that I myself am depthless and flat, slipping myself through the thresholds of closed doors)

I'll be honest, I didn't really feel much compassion for any of the characters. Which is a shame when you've got such obviously adorable characters as Bob Cratchett and Tiny Tim.

Tiny Tim's 'god bless us, every one' I'm sure is a difficult line not to smother in Brie but they could have made a bit of an effort to make it less cheesy than Wallace and Gromit at a fondue party on the moon.

My main gripe with the film, however, was the animation. Why bother? Scrooge, voiced by Jim Carrey, looked a lot like Jim Carrey in make-up. Bob Cratchett, voiced by Gary Oldman, looked a lot like Gary Oldman dressed in rags, and Scrooge's nephew played by Colin Firth looked a bit like a Colin Firth action doll whose plastic face had been partially melted in a fire. Poor old Mr D'arcy.

The animation did not move very smoothly, their mouths seemed out of sync, and most of all it was utterly pointless. The film featured people interacting with people. Yes there are ghosts, but it didn't really warrant the film being entirely animated.

The Ghost of Christmas past reminded me of that big chap in Harry Potter and if Robbie Coltrane standing on a box worked for them...

I'm quite sure a shadow would not be difficult to create either. I could give it a go in my room with modest technicnal appliances; namely a torch and a person.

I cannot be alone in thinking that the extra time and expense taken to animate it was wasted. I find it harder to engage with a computer generated face too, which could account for why it left me cold.

Overall, then, this is an adequate if pointless film. And that about sums it up.

Art or just a little moaner...

2009-12-13T11:50:00.000Z

The Southbank is vibrant this time of year. It's vibrant at any time of the year, but even more so in the build-up to Christmas.

As always there's the London Eye, the museums, The Hayward, The National Theatre.

Now there's a Christmas market and lovely lights, giving it an extra sparkle on a winter's eve.

And of course, there's street theatre. Which is the topic of today's blog.

I've always been wary of street performers since a school drama trip to Spain where the teacher told us it was a con and we would get pick pocketed.

I went to Barcelona last March with some friends. And we were the victim of pickpockets along las ramblas. But it wasn't the street performers you have to worry about...

Anyway, last Friday on the Southbank I didn't feel so worried about getting my wallet nabbed and I was keen to take in a bit of culture.

One of those kooky statue chaps got some loose change.

Some men dressed as iguana's on a bicycle didn't, because there was only one on his bike, the other was stood 10 metres away sans iguana head having a fag. Talk about ruining the illusion.

Next in the line was a different kind of performer, and the one that fascinated me most.

He was a small, chubby well-spoken Englishmen. He wore a blazer and jeans and stood near a couple of blankets and four lime green plastic stools.

We arrived mid-way through his act. He had some bewildered looking emo-teen on his 'stage' and was bellowing away about how he was going to perform 'the most amazing and outrageous trick'. So I stood and watched. Of the two guys I was with, Nick stood and watched too and Chris slinked off to the river to make a phone call.

The chubby man continued on with his little victim, saying a lot and doing very little, but it was captivating. He got the name of his volunteer wrong about half a dozen times, calling the boy 'Gary' when it was in fact 'Harry', like a bad comedian.

Seemingly going nowhere fast with the routine he laid out some blankets and made Harry lie down on them. Harry looked awkward but did it.

It looked like the trick was just round the corner. He hovered over Harry blustering away.

Then he stepped back and and put stools round Harry. Harry looked even more uncomfortable but did not budge. The magician told us 'this will be the most amazing, outrageous trick you have ever seen.' So we stayed.

He then picked out 4 people from the audience of about 20. It included Nick and myself. He told us to put our hands above our heads. We did so reluctantly. My wallet felt exposed. He then told us to step forward on to the 'stage'. I took a step forward, Nick took several back.

I followed Nick away, in two minds, half thinking he was right, the other half thinking it could have been a laugh.

Then we heard from behind us, the blustering magician. Angry. 'If the audience aren't going to get involved then there's no point.'

'That's it. It's over. They've ruined it'

He packed up his little blankets and stools and stomped a few yards away. Nick and I walked on.

I thought it was hilarious. Nick felt a little guilty. Some of the people watching giggled at us 'you annoyed him,' chuckled one lady.

As we were walking away past a statue that was scarily half police-man, half ballerina and came to life in a touchy-feeling carry on kind of way, I wondered if I'd just seen a petty, angry man.

There must have been something more. I questioned whether it was a kind of post strucuralist, Derrida-type act. The whole point was the process of the performance. There was no content, just the pure performance. People certainly came away entertained, and that is the point.

Maybe his blustering, slow, incompetent audience heavy style was supposed to provoke a walk out and that response, and that was the punchline?

I'm not sure if that's the point. But if it was, it was brilliant. Certainly entertaining and memorable.

The Wessex Scene: Secret Rites of Passage

2009-12-09T20:10:00.006Z

This week an article in the student newspaper The Wessex Scene was brought to my attention. There is an article in the features section (3rd December) by Lydia Block and Jessica Fuhl which has generated some consternation among my friends in the uni cricket club.

Prior to reading the article I had heard it accused SUCC of holding initiation ceremonies and encouraging alcohol abuse.

Having been a member for the past 3 years and a largely non-drinking one, I was quite upset.

Today I picked up my copy and read it.

...And...

And, I was underwhelmed really. I know this will upset some of my friends in the cricket club, but I think it is not too bad.

For starters, The Wessex Scene is a small paper and it is not read by very many people. Secondly, the article is tucked away on page 11 features and isn't a particularly long one.

What is so bad about what they wrote then?

The article quotes a confidential source who says: "There is definately a drinking ethos which is promoted by the club on socials and is aimed particularly on freshers who are encouraged and at times baited into drinking."

It is perhaps a bit of an exaggeration but I suppose in general it is hard to argue against it. Socials do take place in bars generally and most members choose to drink.

The key distinction here is choice. And there always is. I should know, because for my entire undergraduate career in the cricket club I chose NOT to drink. And I was not outcast. Neither were my friends who chose not to drink, or those that chose to drink considerably less than some others.

I was even moved to publish my own Wessex Scene article on the matter last year. There's a link at the bottom. Please have a read, feel free to click the 'it rock's my socks' bit. (Let's be honest, this whole site is self promotion so a little more won't hurt.)

In mitigation, the article also says that "senior members are skilled in judging the situation and do not force those to consume excessive amounts of alcohol if the person in question wishes not to."

That is true. The social secs in my two years in the cricket club, Nick Jones (Fresherer) and Chris Cole (Keeno) were very skilled at this and made sure that no one felt pressured and only drank what they could manage. I've no idea how they managed such feats of empathy. They must have been born for the role I suppose.

So, in fairness to Lydia Block and Jessica Fuhl the article is fair(ish) and it is well written.

There are some inaccuracies. They claim that cricketers who drop a catch are forced to drink a jug. That is ridiculous. Some members of the club would actually die after games.

The truth is, and on face value I think it sounds worse, is that the dropper is encouraged to drink from their shoe. Again, obviously this is a choice thing, but it is getting in to the spirit of things.

Now I appreciate it sounds disgusting but it really is not so bad and as someone with butter fingers I should know. A shoe generally holds about half a pint or less so a four-pint jug is a whole different kettle of fish. (A kettle of fish would be even worse still)

And there's no requirement to drink alcohol from said shoe either so there really is no danger unless you have horrid feet. Then shame on you.

What does water from a brogue taste like? Leathery.

Also, the cricket club were accused of having 'Fresher's Bible's' which contained general information about the club and extensive rules and regulations. It's not easy to see the issue here. All AU clubs have their idiosyncracies and guides help freshers to feel more at home. Like a tourist in a new city.

The fact is the cricket club doesn't have Fresher's Bibles. I am informed the ladies cricket club, SULCC, do though, and the men do have an advice section for Freshers on their website.

The overall tone of the article is negative. That is very disappointing, particularly because I know the cricket club has worked very hard for a number of years to make socials unintimidating and not all about drinking.

They were the first club to make the trailblazing move away from the Athletics Union pit that is Clowns Wine Bar on a Wednesday and in to the quieter, more relaxed, more friendly Gordon Arms.

The foregrounding of the initiations angle despite what seems like comprehensive proof there are none is upsetting. The nearest thing to an initiation in the university, they say, is an end of year Isle of Wight trip by the rugby club. If it was anything like an initiation do you seriously believe it would happen at the end of the year?

It does seem that the authors may have decided that initations existed and made the decision to plow on with the article regardless of the evidence it doesn't and the Uni drinking issue is not nearly as bad as they believed.

This is reinforced in Wessex Scene Editor Carla Bradman's email to Tim Clancy (Mandils) in which she says: "We were expecting a lot more to be said about initiations but it does seem that it is not as rife as we would have thought."

I think the article would have benefitted from a better picture, ie not the recylced BBC picture of initiations in Gloucestershire and a better headline. Secret Rites of Passage is not an appropriate headline for and article which proves that secret rites of passage or not occuring. It incorrectly colours the whole article. I realise that it is the editiorial staff at fault for this and not the writers.

And also, if the cricket club got it bad then I have to feel for the rugby club. I have no idea if the allegations involving nudity and shots in eyes are true. To my eyes there seems to be a lacrosse bias too. The sources seem to be from the lacrosse club who have seen things. Come on guys, go to the horses mouth. And for god sakes name your sources. It's just good practice. It's not Watergate. Although with the fuore created in the cricket club you may be forgiven for thinking it is.

http://www.wessexscene.co.uk/sport/3058

Mozzarella Joe's, Southsea: It's alright....

2009-12-08T16:49:00.016Z

Mozzarella Joe's sells itself as “a combination of great food and sharp service all served up with the best sea views on the south coast.”

On a winter evening, they had to rely on the food and service, though the illuminated buildings of Southsea may have been pretty if the windows hadn't been so dirty.

Mozzarella Joe's publicity claims they do not want to be yet another 'psuedo-Italian pizzeria.' Fair enough, but the place does lack identity. The nice thing about eating in a good Italian is getting lost in the atmosphere. You cannot do that here.

It is simply, tastefully-decorated, feeling bright even on a cold night. Quick, smiley service didn't veer into pushiness, though this may be because it was all-but empty.

The live music was dreadful; a wailing man with a keyboard. It was the kind of act seen on the early stages of X Factor, who doesn't get through and then insists on telling Simon he is wrong.

The starters were both nice, though inconsistently sized. My girlfriend's mushroom bruschetta dwarfed my potato skins, which tasted better than their frankly average appearance.

The mains were solid. Her BBQ chicken pizza had a soft flavourful base and the quirkiness of BBQ sauce instead of tomato under the cheese. There was plenty of topping and it was nicely presented.

Lasagne is a simple dish and it was done well. It had plenty of pasta and a smooth, creamy sauce. I could have eaten it again.

The sizes of the mains, again, were gigantic, and with that in mind we only managed to squeeze down one dessert between the pair of us.

“Oh my god, it actually amazing,” Laura gasped. Despite our lack of appetite, the cake disappeared in seconds. It was moist, rich and big – all you can really ask for in a fudge cake.

Mozzarella Joe's is a good restaurant. It's tidy and the service is friendly. The food is tasty and the variety huge. Portions are massive though it still feels ever-so-slightly overpriced. Probably more popular in the summer given its sea-front location.

Jamie Oliver's Chocolate Torte

2009-12-07T07:25:00.002Z

Mockney TV chef Jamie Oliver's Cook with Jamie book has been around since 2006, and that's when I actually received it as a Christmas gift.

Now, I'm not much of a chef but I like to think I'm better than the average person my age. I make a great spaghetti carbonara and do a pretty handy line in cottage pie, spaghetti bolognese and lasagne.

I'm also a pudding-fiend and my girlfriend is a real chocoholic.

With that in mind, I decided to try to cook Jamie's chocolate tart to impress my little lady.

Jamie's tips were simple and it was all pretty painless. There was no “I've done that, now what – oh god, when am I supposed to have whipped the cream!” moment.

I cooked round Laura's house, and being a student, her tools were pretty rudimentary. There was no rolling pin and certainly no scales. That made the pastry a little tricky – but credit to Jamie's bulletproof method, it was still highly edible.

There was perhaps too much pastry however.

The filling was glorious, except for the fact it took an age to set. It was still a little bit wobbly when we tucked in about three hours after we made it.

But owing to its vastness and richness we did get a second bite of the cherry the next day – and it was about perfect then.

And now for the negatives.

It cost quite a lot. The chocolate and the cream alone cost a pretty penny.

It is not for the calorie conscious. My girlfriend very nearly collapsed when she saw the ingredients. My arteries nearly exploded after a small portion.

The tart it makes is truly massive, and even for people with huge appetites like Laura and myself, a small portion leaves you feeling sick. But in a good way if you know what I mean.

The next weekend, a friend of Laura's, amused at my culinary exploits, mockingly challenged me to make another pudding.

Rather than pick another recipe or make the same thing again, I adapted Jamie's tart.

Gone was Jamie's rich but dull chocolate pastry. In was a biscuit base. And the Jimmy-Jamie Cheesecake was born.

I blitzed a depressing amount of biscuits in the blender. I used just about a whole pack of digestives, but I needn't have. It was too thick in hindsight. About ½ pack for a 10inch approx diameter tin should work well.

I bound it using a bit of butter melted in the microwave. In a calorific sin, I made a quarter of the regular amount of Jamie's dark chocolate tart filling and then I made the rest with milk chocolate, which I think worked really well. Good quality chocolate is important.

I let it set for nearly an eternity and then turned it out. Looks quite good, I hope you agree.

Laura and her friend were suitably impressed and as was I. Jamie Oliver, I salute you, sir.

Drink up Trig' we're leaving: Stewart Lee, Only Fools and Horses and Charlie Chaplin

2009-12-04T20:21:00.003Z

I got home early yesterday, so I sat down in front of the tv with my cuppa.

The channel was Dave and the programme Only Fools And Horses.

Some people, a lot of people, say that Only Fools hasn't dated at all. This could make me unpopular but I disagree. The dialogue to my ears is over scripted and cheesy.

However, it has endured. I still find it funny, and its comfortable like a pair of slippers. I happened to be watching it with my dad and he still finds it fresh and hilarious. But then again, he didn't like The Office. He doesn't care for The Mighty Boosh either. Maybe its a generational thing.

Yesterday's - and knowing Dave - probably today's and tomorrow's episode was the one where Del boy falls through the bar. Frequently voted the funniest moment in comedy ever. And for your viewing pleasure here it is:

Trouble is, I couldn't laugh. My dad, who's seen it about a hundred times still nearly fell out of his chair laughing. I chatted to my girlfriend on the phone about writing this blog, and she even laughed down the phone without seeing it.

And here's why I couldn't do any more than smile:

Its not the best video because there's no context to it, that came earlier in the show. But Stewart Lee, love him or hate him - I love him, my dad hates him - raises quite a good point, does he not?

It's become a kind of Pavlovian response. We see Del boy fall, we laugh. Stewart Lee is exactly right. And if it wasn't so damn quaint and homely, I don't expect any of us would laugh any more.

I take that back. Go to any cinema or Blockbuster and you'll see that dumb comedy is alive and well. The prat-fall is not dead.

I very nearly typed, 'The art of the prat fall is not dead.' But I think the art may well be.

The reason we all like that clip from Only Fools and Horses is because it is quite well done, even if Roger Lloyd-Pack who plays Trigger does over-act a little bit.

Today's slapstick tends not to be up to scratch. Show me a good fall from the last ten years. I'd wager there aren't many.

You could argue that it is because of health and safety, stunt men, CGI and big budgets.

It could also just be dumbing down – and it's come to something when slapstick is dumbed down.

Movies now more than ever are about business than art, which is why big, dopey blockbusters like 2012 are ten-a-penny and intelligent, funny, independent films have fallen by the wayside.

This guy was pretty good:

Chaplin made his career into an art. He was more than just a circus performer, and that was shown by his approach. He was an auteur. He wrote the films, directed, starred and wrote the score.

How many artist are there in film today? For every Mike Leigh, there's Mr Jobbing Director who willing produce Planet of the Apes 5: Monkeys Vs Robots entirely in CGI and 3D.

And it's a shame, I guess I shall have to pop The Gold Rush on again, or watch Only Fools and Horses on Dave tomorrow – at least it'll raise a smile.

Nudge - a correct definition

2009-12-03T17:34:00.001Z

Dictionaries define nudge as transitive verb with unknown etymology, meaning to touch or push gently,to prod lightly or urge into action and to approach eg. Its population is nudging the four million mark.

In actual fact, this definition of Nudge is not too far out.

The above definitions are correct but a further one needs to be considered. The term to 'nudge' is a pejorative term to act slowly or indecisively.

Usage

"Taylor stop nudging"
"Taylor, you are a nudger"

Special case

The nicotine nudge - erratic, slow, indecisive or dithering behaviour deriving from a deficit of nicotine in a person addicted to such substance. Most nicotine nudges are exacerbated by the 'nudger's' pre-occupation with procurement of cigarettes.

Needless to say, the preceding 'nicotine' in nicotine nudge can be exchanged for a label more relevant to the type of nudge.

Etymology

Unlike the term's other definitions, the behavioural nudge has fixed origins.

Nudge derives from cricketing terminolgy whereby a slow, negative, frustrating - often boring - batsman is known as a nurdler or a nudger.

For example, "'Yes, I'm tagged as a nudger and nurdler - a scamperer,' concedes Collingwood, as questions inevitably lead to the smaller grounds in the Caribbean and the suitability of England's old-fashioned game plan - long on keeping wickets in hand, short on the importance of power plays"

Taken out of an explicitly cricketing context by men of Wessex in the late 2000s, it was applied to people or acts which shared the same characteristics.

http://arcticmonkey.wordpress.com/2009/10/08/never-mind-us-nudge-away-to-glory/

Web democracy

2009-12-02T19:05:00.004Z

I read this on the BBC website today.

To be honest its pretty dry and doesn't on face value appear to be too big a deal.

But this Digital Britain thing has been around for a while and it is, as far as I'm aware, the first major piece of legislation in Britain that revolves around the use of the internet.

Say what you want about internet piracy but I think the three strikes rule looks actually quite good on paper. It's not over-the-top and an out of proportion reaction, like for example the £1.92 million fine for a 32 year old mother who downloaded 24 songs from Kazaa.

Its the so-called clause 17 that worries me. This is a stereotypically press reaction I know, but it does feel a little bit 'big brother' and a little bit like the state is interfering with our lives a bit much doesn't it.

The BBC reports on some huge internet firms that are opposing it. Here's what they say...

"This power could be used, for example, to introduce additional technical measures or increase monitoring of user data even where no illegal practice has taken place," the letter read.

This would "discourage innovation" and "impose unnecessary costs" representatives of the firms wrote.

Others have suggested that the clause could be used to tweak laws so that search engines could not publish summaries of news stories in their results."

It seems pretty scary to me, especially the bit about monitoring user data where no illegal practice has taken place.

And to be honest, any legislation where the government has to say,

"Business will not wake up one morning to a world in which government has taken extensive digital powers."

kind of implies that it could happen doesn't it. If they're having to tell us this is not what the will do, then surely it is something which they could do.

And if monitoring of perfectly legal behaviour occurs, then that appears to potentially go hand-in-hand with censorship. And that is frightening.

I think its pretty clear that when companies like facebook, yahoo, google and ebay start to argue for civil liberties - whatever their motivation - you have to worry.

They say the internet is a trully democratic medium, but with this bill some of that democracy could be compromised.

And compromising democracy is something that Peter Mandelson, who is responsible for drawing up the bill, is used to. He is after all, a very senior member of this government - yet the man is unelected. I didn't vote for him, you didn't vote for him. End of.

On a slightly different but connected note, I read this article on the guardian website recently about the 'dark web'. I'd never heard of it before and it intrigued and terrified my in equal measure. It's kind of cool I suppose but as the article makes clear it is quite murky and open to a lot of abuse.

I guess that puts me firmly in the middle ground when it comes to web democracy then. We don't want it to be the wild west either do we?

On a work dodge? This one could waste hours...

2009-12-01T17:13:00.008Z

Today I bring you a selection of trully wierd interviews via the wonder of youtube.

Here's a little background why...

On thursday, as part of my course I have to do a video interview with my lecturer who is pretending to be someone else.

It shouldn't be any great shakes, I've got to a point where I've interviewed quite a lot of people now and I'm quite good at getting information out of them.

But the presence of the camera clearly adds another dimension, as does the fact I know I'm being assessed.

In class, I think to put the frighteners on us, our lecturer showed us a few car-crash interviews - the classic being Meg Ryan and Parkinson. It's quite funny and not really Meg Ryan's fault - Parky seems to be particularly grouchy. Just look at the man's body language.

Next up is David Icke being interviewed by Terry Wogan. For those unaware of David Icke, at the time of the interview, he was a 38 year old former Coventry goalkeeper and sports pundit. Post interview he was the king of all conspiracy theorists who believes we are ruled by lizard-men. Brilliant. You couldn't make it. I wonder if he used to say all this wacky stuff at training sessions back in the day...

And now we have David Blaine and Eamonn Holmes. For anyone who doesn't know who David Blaine is, he is a man who is good at standing places: in some ice, in a box above the Thames, on a big pillar...you name it, he can stand on it for a very long time.

Here's Jaoquin Phoenix, brother of River Phoenix who was the young Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade. He's quite a successful actor himself. Here he is going a little bit crazy on Letterman and defining the phrase 'wierdy beardy'...

I can't give you the Beegees storming off Clive Anderson's show but its well worth a watch. You can see it here. I'm not a fan of either but it's always satisfying to see a celebrity disappear up their own arse.

This one's not so much car crash as just funny. This guy turned up for a job interview and ended up live on the news as an 'expert' on something he knew nothing about. He did admirably and I think if I was ever to love a man, it could be him. His face is fantastic. I bet it was a "big surprise" for him.

A couple of Paxman one's now. I don't think I need to introduce these, when that man gets into his stride he is quite a force. The first is Paxman vs Galloway.

Next up is Paxman vs Michael Howard. Simple and effective. Well, not effective really but quite funny.

And the final Paxo one, Jeremy Paxman making Dizzee Rascal look a bit dopey.

I hope you've enjoyed those and feel free to post any you know of in the comments section, I'm always game for a laugh.

Out of key

2009-11-30T17:52:00.007Z

I fear that this may be a post where my already precarious grip of masculinity slips further through my fingers.

Nevertheless I shall continue unabated.

Surprise, surpise I was watching X Factor last night (my enjoyment is ironic and post-modern, honest)

Did anyone else happen to see what Alicia Keys was wearing? As ever her songs were lovely. That is not in question. Sat down at her piano she looked nice, quite conservatively dressed. Pretty, even.

Then, mid-way through her little medley she stood up and suddenly it was - and I hate myself for typing this, but lets face it, it's that kind of post - OMG.

You thought it would taper down into a nice dress and then this...Sorry you'll have to watch the whole video, but trust me it is good.

Blimey.

But good ol' Keysey has form for hideous outfits. Here she is trying out a pair of Simon Cowell's trousers...

And here she is in a grey all-in-one...

She loves a bit of grey, she does...

And finally, the Romany Gypsy look...

On a related note, why did Rihanna steal a wig from a middle aged man and then wear it on stage? Must've been a bet.

Global Warming? No, we're just having a mild spell...

2009-11-29T17:22:00.000Z

Nick Griffin will be an EU delegate in Copenhagen as the world pushes for a global treaty on climate change in December.

That silly old racist is hardly out of the news these days is he.

The BBC have summed it all up pretty well here.

This is a particularly good story though, seeing as Nick Griffin doesn't even beleive in man-made climate change. It sounds a bit like making Richard Dawkins the Archbishop of Canterbury.

I suppose we shouldn't all start to worry that any new treaty will suggest oil-burning lamps should light the streets and cars with engines less than four litres should be put to landfill just yet as MEP Caroline Lucas says:

"He won't get the right to speak. The Parliament sadly doesn't even get the right to really influence the decisions at all.

"So this idea that somehow Nick Griffin is going to have any real influence on what happens in Copenhagen is a myth."

Thank goodness.

And as Chris Huhne says "Nick Griffin was always going to get some role in the Parliament, because jobs are divvied up fairly."

And if people in this country are daft enough to vote for someone this ridiculous then we deserve what we get I suppose.

On that note, it does make you wonder who votes for a party whose leader is as big a moron as old Griffiny. You saw him on Question Time, right? (Bonnie Greer is now trully confirmed as one of my idols by the way)

Watch some of his 'highlights' here.

Watch that edition of Question Time again in full here.

What's my age again?

2009-11-28T13:57:00.001Z

I waited, for what seemed like ages,at the train station for Laura's sister yesterday. She'd come down to Southampton from Hastings for the weekend to visit her own boyfriend. Alice had bought a child ticket and was stuck at the ticket barrier with a security guard disputing the fact she was a child. He even asked her to produce ID to prove she was a kid.

Aside from the fact that no person under the age of 17 or 18 tends to carry a valid form of ID - they're too young to drive or have proper bank accounts, my point is this - surely it should not be upto the accused to prove their innocence.

I did a bit of A Level Law (I got an 'A' in fact - I'm sure you can sense my head swelling) and I'm currently on a course where I study media law and the constitution, and I'm pretty sure that 'the burden of proof' is one of the tenets of our society.

It's easy to say that it only applies to court cases, but its a principle of our democracy.

Surely in this instance it is upto the security guard to prove she is over 16.

This is often the case with age-related queries - as with the routine ID parade many young people have to undertake when going to a nightclub, the pub, a supermarket.

Obviously, this is a difficult issue and it wouldn't feasibly work any other way, but there does appear to be a burden of proof against the younger person in this cases.

Oh, and I can tell you, it may be demeaning for a young person to be asked for identification every where they go - but when you go to a nightclub and they're asking everyone else for ID but don't bother asking you, its a whole lot more painful, I can tell you.

The worst I've had- and bearing in mind I'm only 22 - is, 'No need to check you're ID mate, you're clearly ancient.'

I miss my youth already.

Just so you are aware I support justice, Alice was fined £40 and had to buy an adult ticket. And rightly so, she is over 16.

Paul McCartney on X Factor

2009-11-27T16:58:00.001Z

Paul McCartney was in the news today saying how much he loved X-Factor twins Jedward and he was keen to appear on the show himself.

http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/showbiz/bizarre/2748191/Paul-MacCartney-loves-John-and-Edward-Grimes.html

Now, this isn't much of a story - although it does have some great pictures - but it got me thinking about Macca.

Personally, he's not my favourite Beatle by far, that would have to be George Harrison by a mile. But he does seem to have lowered himself a little bit of late - I guess Heather must've hurt him more financially than it looked like at the time.

First off, in the midsts of his divorce he signed to Starbuck's record label. He was the first person to do so. It may sound innovative but it didn't exactly set the world alight did it. To this day people don't pop along for an espresso and think 'while I'm here buying an over-priced cup of coffee for a couple of quid, I may as well pick up a CD' do they? No.

I was one of the few that did buy 'Memory Almost Full' when it came out, and to be fair it is a good album. It's not The White Album, but it is good. But given that The Beatles formed their own Apple Records in 1968, it seems odd that Sir Paul would have to go to a bigger power like Starbucks to get his record out.

The Beatle's Rock Band is not something I imagine he would have been well up for in the past, as until recently the Beatles' brand has been quite conservatively protected.

Add to that a new live DVD, tour, aforementioned X Factor slot and guest spots on Ringo Starr's new album, titled 'Y Not?'

Just a side note, if you were as dire musically as Ringo Starr why on earth would you call your album 'Y Not?' It's pretty bleeding obvious why not Ringo, and I'm sure every reviewer will jump right on to your ready-made pun.

While I've already said Macca isn't my favourite Beatle, and The Beatles certainly aren't my favourite band I do feel a bit for old Pauly if his divorce is the reason he's suddenly working harder. After all, I like Heather Mills much less.

And if he's just doing all this for a laugh, or just because he wants eeeeeven more money the good luck to him I suppose. Just don't ever, ever think about doing a 21st-century version of the Frog Chorus.

The perks and the pitfalls

2009-11-25T20:10:00.002Z

Seventy-six year old oscar-winning film director Roman Polanski was granted conditional bail today in Switzerland following his arrest relating to an American child-sex case back in 1977.

There was outrage when he was arrested over thirty years after the incident and having lived in Switzerland for the past 12-15 years. Critics argued it was a political arrangement to appease the US.

David Thompson in his Guardian Blog on September 28 described Polanski's legal issue.

'Polanski never denied the charges, but they were dismissed under the terms of the plea bargain by which he pleaded guilty to unlawful sex with a minor...It was the director's understanding that 42 days in Chino (Jail) would satisfy punitive instincts. There might be a fine, too, but he would be freed. Then, just before sentencing, Polanski heard that (Judge) Rittenband was ready to break the agreement – because he feared public criticism of a verdict that seemed too lenient on Polanski. And so, fearing further imprisonment, Polanski broke bail and flew by British Airways to London in February 1978. He has never been back to the US.'

http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2009/sep/28/roman-polanski

Whatever you think about Roman Polanski, his films or child date rape- because this is what it is - it is hard to say that the leniency he has been granted over the years does not owe largely to his celebrity and status as an artist.

Anyone else who committed such a crime in the public eye, facing charges or not, would have been condemned by society. But for Polanski, a bit of an oddball genius who has had an admittedly hard life - his wife was brutally murdered at the hands of Charles Manson and his mother was murdered by the Nazis - his reputation appears to have continued undimmed. World leaders have even spoken out against his arrest.

But on the other hand, his fame does appear to have bitten him in the arse too. Would someone of a lesser standing have been pursued for such a long time and extradited to the US? The victim has even said she doesn't want any further action to be taken.

I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'm going to sit on the fence here but I'm keen to know how you feel. I'm leaning in the direction that irrespective of his standing, what he did was wrong. At the same time he did feel he was not going to receive justice so it is difficult to blame him for running away (would he have admitted charges if he thought he would go to prison?). It does seem a bit unfair to arrest him after 30 odd years but if you did the crime...

On a significantly lighter note, I feel obliged to tell you about something a little bit special that happened to me yesterday - my own little perk of the job.

I was covering a Portsmouth City Council meeting yesterday at the Guildhall with my class mates (no, thats not the good bit - even though they were debating whether to bid for the World Cup) and during a recess we went for a wander around the Guldhall and were treated to a very special performance by The Enemy.

The technical term for the gig we went to is a soundcheck, but lets not get too technical. Apart from the techie guys we were the only ones there, and they sounded great. A brilliant case of right place, right time. I know, I know, if only it had been a better band.

And on a note so light it is floating away, here is a great video I've posted before but I do not want you to miss. Kind of a reward for getting to the end!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xp9Gm-aRe5A

Your worst nightmare

2009-11-23T21:41:00.001Z

I read this in the news yesterday:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8375326.stm

For those of you too lazy to click a hyperlink it is about a Belgian man who was thought to have been in a coma for the last 23 years but was in fact fully conscious but severly disabled and unable to communicate.

I think this is probably my worst nightmare.

I know I'm not alone in being terrified at the thought of getting dementia later in life. But this eclipses it. Its right up there with being buried alive.

And apparently it's not that uncommon either, according to the medical guy's study, 40% of all people thought to be in a vegetative state are actually partially conscious. Crikey!

The Belgian guy who was misdiagnosed described his plight like this: "I will never forget the day they discovered me. It was like a second birth."

It's pretty touching stuff.

Am I alone in thinking his would make a great book? Surely better than a lot of celebrity hardbacks.

And to be cynical/ explore some other angles, maybe it would make a good literary novel. Room for a bit of Rushdie-esque Magical Realism. It's a story that throws up a lot of issue of identity, reality, life etc. I would definately read it. I might even have a stab at writing it.

The correct definition of the term 'Gribble'

2009-11-23T13:54:00.008Z

Dictionaries incorrectly define Gribble as 'Any of several small wood-boring marine isopod crustaceans of the genis Limnoria which often damage under water wooden structures' and 'possibly a diminutive of grub.'

These are sadly, woefully, wrong.

In fact, 'gribble' is any insignificant, dull or meandering utterance. It can be extended to indecisive or petty behaviour.

Or according to the influential and respected Clancy and Lipscombe Diary: "Any speech or activity deemed superfluous or extraneous by those listening or viewing"

Usage
"Taylor, that is gribble."
"Taylor, you are a gribbler."
"Sorry I'm late, Taylor was gribbling."

Origins/ Etymology
The term gribble is beleived to have been popularised in the UK, specifically among students in Southampton in the late 2000s.

Probably conceived by, and championed by members of the forward-thinking, innovative SUCC, otherwise known as Wessex.

Marimtime Links
An unfounded but possible connection to gribble's alternative definition is through Wessex's link to the sea.

Southampton University is home to one of the world's most prestigious Marine Biology facilities, The National Oceanographic Centre (NOC). Many so-called Legends of Wessex have studied at the NOC providinfg a possible platform for exposure to the 'other' gribble.

This theory gains credence as the 'other' gribble is diminutive and parasitic, a clear similarity to the reductive labbelling of speech or action as gribble.

The heavens think I'm a wino

2009-11-23T13:25:00.011Z

I don't drink very often, although yesterday I got the feeling someone was sending me a message that it's too often.

I was cooking dinner and decided it would be nice to sit down on the sofa with Laura and a bottle of wine.

It was a simple plan. Eventually Laura sourced a cork screw, but the cork would not budge. She tugged away and then I tugged away at the end of the bottle. Then she held the bottle and I pulled the corkscrew (and her - the whole length of the kitchen), then we swapped around and finally, finally the cork popped out dousing the kitchen floor in rose.

It took no less than 5 minutes to budge the errant cork, jammed in with the vehemence of a protester on the Newbury bypass circa 1996.

With the cork out, and the dinner cooked - best damned mash I've ever made - we were able to sit down and watch the X Factor in peace.

Which brings me to my next point. We all know that Susan Boyle is not the best looking woman in the world. She has been the butt of playground and tabloid jokes for a while. So why then, did her team make her up so obviously to look like the late Bernard Manning?!

Laura didn't know who Bernard Manning was, but even she couldn't deny the remarkable similarity when I googled the racist northern jokester on my phone during the performance.

I'm not much of a Mariah Carey fan, she's quite overrated in my humble opinion (although 'All I want for Christmas is you' is my favourite Christmas song) I thought she was a bit naff last night, whether or not she was even singing live. I did think it was good of her to include a canine section of the song though, they're an under appreciated market. Seriously, did anyone else hear the screamy highpitched wierd bit in the middle?

Jedward are gone then. A few weeks ago I would have been happy, but now the other finallists have turned out to have such charisma deficiency to make the Irish teens intriguing, I'm not so sure.

There's been some suprise over Olly being in the last two, but to be honest, I can see why. He does the same thing every week and does come across a little bit arrogant. A bit like Danyl then. And he made a meal of his broken right hand - surely the noise comes from his gob.

Board at Trago

2009-11-22T13:30:00.006Z

Went to Trago Lounge in Portswood yesterday. Its fairly new and its only the second time I've been there but I quite like it.

It's a cafe which stays open til about 11 at night and it feels cosy with a terracotta-y colour scheme and candlelight. It used to be Pizza Hut so it's quite big which is a bit of a shame because it stops it from being too intimate.

Laura and I sat by the window looking out at a gloomy, rainy Portswood High Street. She had a glass of wine and I had an Affogato. I'd never had one before, but my theory was this: I like expresso and I like ice cream, so what could go wrong?

It looked pretty, coming out in a gorgeous tall glass. My first dilemma was, how do I eat it? There was a spoon provided, so I thought maybe I was supposed to spoon it out. This did not really work, the coffee is too thin to really eat efficiently that way. Perhaps I should just drink it. Nope. Ice cream tried to smear itself across my face with this method.

I tried to sip it slowly and carefully, but frankly, it did not taste good. My final solution was to spoon out the ice cream and neck the expresso. This worked well, and tasted good, but the jury is still out - surely that cannot be the correct way to tackle the drink?

The best thing about Trago Lounge is their selection of board games. This possibly sounds odd, but it really gives it an edge. A bit of an X Factor (which we'd just finished watching - were Jedward miming?)

We'd come out specifically for a game of scrabble, because we're those kind of crazy adrenaline junkies.

Normally, despite being a journalism student, a keen reader and an English graduate, I am awful at scrabble and my sport-studies student of a girlfriend is like a scrabble-Jedi.

Perhaps inspired by the caffeine yesterday, I was actually quite good. I started off with the double-word 'Idyll' and quickly followed it with triple-word 'Apathy' and 'Redeemed', giving me a gigantic lead.

Eventually I reverted to type and by the time the lights had gone on, the tables were all cleaned and chairs stacked on them and every other customer had left, we were neck and neck.

So I've got mixed feelings about the evening really. I was either deprived of a first victory after 22 long years, or I was granted mercy by the scrabble gods from a humiliating loss after squandering a great start. Probably the latter.

Things I'd like to share with you

2009-11-20T17:43:00.003Z

These are great:

Chimpanzee riding on a segway:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xp9Gm-aRe5A

(If you have just read those words and NOT clicked on it, then frankly you disgust me)

Cheryl Cole's twitter page:

http://twitter.com/CherylKerl

a day in the life

2009-11-20T16:48:00.002Z

It is only fitting as a blog virgin that I give you a little flavour of me. And what better way than describing a typical day in the life?

My alarm goes off at seven. I reset it for ten past.

How long I spend in the shower depends greatly on where I've slept. At my girlfriend's house it's a quick one – the water dribbles from the shower apologetically, like it is afraid it might get me wet. I guess I'm saving the planet or something.

I rarely have time for breakfast, and I kiss my girlfriend goodbye at quarter to if I've stayed at hers, or eight if we're at mine. Its ironic, in an Alanis Morrissette way, because Laura actually lives 10 miles closer to college than I do.

If the traffic is not horrific then I make it to college, where I'm doing a short course in journalism, at 8.35 for 8.45.

At lunchtime, I can't get out of the building. Big Brother has locked a strategic number of doors so it is virtually impossible to exit. In a very convoluted, snakes and ladders-esque way stairways and lifts become important for working your way through the maze.

Sometimes doors that were open the previous day are locked the next. Just to keep us on our toes.

I call Laura because I'm hopelessly devoted. I pop to Tesco because I've achieved the triple-whammy of missing breakfast, not taking a packed-lunch and having no cash on me yet again.

I always over-eat. I try not to but I'm a sucker for impulse purchases.

Afternoons are interesting and my favourite bit of the college day.

I'll usually do a bit of work in the evening, but tend to leave most of it for the weekend when Laura and I go to the library.

I go to bed early these days. My body cannot cope with the long days and a social life yet, but I think its starting to. Fingers crossed my friends will remember what I look like.