Welcome To ...Liverpool?

A couple of days ago, in a sun induced moment of madness, I visited the European Capital of Culture, 2008. Here are some atmospheric pictures.

So here we are, coming into view of the Three Graces, about to disembark from the world famous Mersey Ferry. On the boat, I realised the last time I travelled by water, it was on the Staten Island ferry, on September 11th. 2006. In view are some construction projects, where I really wanted to visit - the site of Cream 2000, where I spent the millennium.

Around the corner, Albert Dock, and a yellow water based transport device. Hands up if you thought Liverpool looked like this. Not many hands there...

Another place I wanted to visit was the Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral of Christ the King. Well worth a visit, even more so on a sunny day as the glasswork viewable from the inside casts incredible colours on the wall. 

Venturing further onwards, hundreds of houses boarded up. Why? Note that these houses have Liverpool branded boards, and are colourful. I walked through many, many streets in Edge Hill that were awaiting either demolition or resurrection. 

A grand day out indeed.

Is there a social problem in Britain, and if so, what would you do to remedy it? Be sure to show your workings.

Caution. This post may upset.

It also may not read like a well constructed argument.

I was in bed this morning, listening to Radio Five Live, and Victoria Derbyshire's discussion show. A woman rang in to add to the topic of sex education in schools, and said that she saw older boys repeatedly having sex with eight year old girl in the next garden. She called the police, and shouted at the boy, who responded with swearing, and leaving the girl lying on the ground with her underwear round her ankles. The caller claimed that she had called the police, and that nothing had been done by them.

This evening, I was treated to an hour long documentary, "Cops With Cameras" on ITV.  Normally, I can be entertained by stolen car chases with a passive/aggressive voice over, or youths being pummeled by HM Rozzers accompanied by dramatic music, but this took things to a new level. Here, as police were arresting Bob Marley (not that one) some local herberts took time out of their day to swear and abuse the coppers. Who laughed it off. Surely, that's a criminal offence, to abuse a police officer?

Another aspect of the programme was a relatively mid-scale drugs bust, with a obscured man in his pants vehemently denying that there were any drugs in his house. Once the dogs were in, they found substantial quantities of amphetamines, cannabis, ecstasy, and boxes of knock-off clothes and counterfeit cigarettes ("These are bad for your health!", as one helpful officer described them).

The day before I saw a programme "Snog, Marry, Avoid" on BBC3. On researching this paragraph, I saw that today they are showing "Britain's Youngest Grannies". Two of the contestants seemed to be too caricature-ish to be invented. One had just received a boob job as a present from her father, the other appeared to think that she could channel Paris Hilton.  In their preview videos, the one went out with black electrical tape as suitable upper-wear, both were keeping the fake tan and glitter industry alive. One even went under the name of Levi, even though she was called Gemma.

So, from listening to the radio, watching the box, as well as looking out of the window, I can tell that this island is sinking under the weight of track-suited school-avoiding knife-wielding sex mad boys, who know the law and refuse to respect the authority of anyone, and girls who view Barbie as a viable fashion icon, whose only interest is clubbing and who believe any attention is good attention.

All this can surely lead to one inevitable conclusion...

As you may be aware, the UK has the highest teenage pregnancy rate in Western Europe. Did you know, in 2006, there were 1200 births to girls under 16, and 45,000 births to those under 20?

Anecdotally, it has long been suggested that having a baby as soon as possible is a direct route to a free council house/flat, combined with benefits. According to a Councilor who spoke on the radio this morning, she is besieged with young women demanding a house, and near to their mothers'. The caller who spoke about the disgusting perpetual rape of the girl said that she lived on an estate that was full of households with the school age mum with no interest in baby.

This doesn't seem to be a problem limited to one part of the country, we have systematic, knowing abuses of our benevolent benefits system by people who have no interest in either formal learning or working.

So what do we do?

I understand that every baby has it's own story, and that generalisations like this could upset people. So, sorry if you think that this post is attacking you, or someone you know. It isn't. What it is doing is acknowledging that there is a problem of abuse of benefits, housing and society.

Can we stop child benefit immediately? No, as this will only pull the rug from under the very people whom the benefits were created for, the mothers to provide for the children.

The same can be said of disability benefit. There is widespread abuse of this - a case in point being the men (it always seems to be men) who claim for being written off in an industrial accident yet are filmed by Police casually throwing petrol tankers into the sea. Surely something sensible can be done?

If all benefits were to be stopped overnight, there would be radio phone ins jammed with rightly unhappy genuine claimants, and the Police would have to try to control the looting.

The Police have a very difficult job in controlling the feral youths on the edge of society. I'm sure they would love to belt some sense into them, but they cannot. They can't sentence them - that's up to the courts - and often have to deal with them them the day after the courts release them with no sentence. Our prisons are so full of scum, there is no room left.

Which brings me back to the drug dealers. Drugs have exploded in availability and reduced in price. Vietnamese gangs are renting houses to farm cannabis. Offices up and down this land are awash with staff still coming down off their weekend ecstasy buzz on Monday, and have official procedures for "Suicide Tuesday" - when the high finally wears off. I have no evidence to support this, but I believe that some lottery winners have a lot to do with the rise in organised crime and drugs in the UK. 

According to Camelot's most recent winners press release, The National Lottery has paid out over 2,100 million pound plus prizes. Surely not all of the money has gone to the 'deserving'? Examples like Michael Carroll tell us that statistically, some of that money makes it's way to the more nefarious members of society - in turn unlocking the door to the toys of say, counterfeiting or buying lorry-loads of drugs.

In the same way that the car helped social mobility in the 20th Century, enormous swathes of cash may have helped to mobilize the criminal element in the 21st.

I understand things change, but surely, in the truest Daily Mail islander fashion - something MUST be done to stop the crims and the council estate no-go areas?

One answer may be to make schooling non-universal. Instead of wasting time and money on making kids go to school only to exclude them, ask the parents whether they want their kids to go or not, and then spend the rest of the cash on extra Police, and each school class is reduced, solving overcrowding.

Or possibly, in the words of on of the late Kenny Everett's characters, "Round 'em up, put 'em in a field, and BOMB THE BASTARDS!"

Normal service will be resumed, as soon as I have calmed down. And no, I'm not drunk, either.

Old Poetry

After looking through some of the utter dross that I wrote whilst at college, I decided to not publish anything. There are several, numbered reasons;

1. It simply isn't good enough
2. Some of the lyrics and titles would be defamatory
3. It is really, really poor
4. It's a little embarrassing for some historical exes
5. Some of it is teeth-gnashingly bad

Hopefully that clears it up.

I did find a two line stanza that stuck in my throat, from the poem "Waiting For History", which was:

As I sit and wait for History

I could be doing something better with my time

...which nicely sums up my last fifteen years or so.

Looking back I know I was referring to History with a large H, the subject, and not the passage of time; yet the lines nag at me about wasting time thinking about doing something better and never actually doing it. 

In essence, I'm telling the modern me off from a library desk in Halesowen, in 1996. Man, that's deep.

Weather vs. 'Don't Speak' by No Doubt

Earlier on, I wanted to hang out my washing. As I stepped into the garden, I could hear 'Don't Speak' by No Doubt, apparently being broadcast by a tree. This is possibly my least favourite song (of a band that I like) in the last twenty years.

I was so disgusted, I returned inside and the washing is still in the machine, requiring drying.

That's without question, the most adverse reaction to hearing a song, ever.

Madame B - Epilogue

Afternoon,

I'm sure there were some more transcriptions from the witterings of Madame B, but they may be lost in the midst of time. Madame B may be making a return to action after four and a half long years away - send me a comment with the star sign you would like to have a personalised reading for, and I promise to at least wave it at Mme B in the near future. Not all respondents will get a personal reading, etc. etc. etc.

Next project - on to publishing the faintly embarrassing poetry!

Madame B - Episode 5

16 January 2004 10:28

"Bumper Update From The Woman Who Knows Everything - Apart From When to Stop Drinking"

Good morning, believers

I must begin with a bit of good news; Mme B has made a complete recovery. Firstly, from the serious cranial injuries sustained by the golf club that was wrapped around her head by a mystery assailant early in December, the alcohol deprivation that she was cruelly put through whilst she was she was in said coma, and predicting things that will actually happen.

Saying that she had made a complete recovery is an understatement, as she has reached uncharted new levels of drunkenness, abuse and disgusting personal hygiene. She has also been blessed with the ability to divine our futures with the technique of reading the tallow cards. These are different to Tarot cards, because they are made completely from cow fat.

I have asked her to ask the spirits for good fortune for my withered hands, as the new skin that was growing split whilst I was walking to the building, with an almighty swear. I asked for a saucy lady dermatologist to be expedited to me. 

So, without further ado, with a round of warm applause, please welcome back Mme B, with her first set of sensible stars from Birmingham...aided by animal by-products.

Virgo

Welcome back, Virgo. You have been mentally away on business for too long, and deserve you let your hair down over the weekend. Visit your local off-licence and put them out of business, and while you are there, think about your favourite astrologer. Venus in the ascendant of the house of Vauxhall means that the following will revolve entirely around cow fat. Steer clear of the animals that have been grazing in your spare room, as they may turn nasty. Pick up the courage to finally learn a martial art, and once you have, half-volley a tramp into a shop window.

Gemini

Fate brings you into contact with a large number of essential pamphlets and leaflets this weekend, and the sight of a doctor's surgery has never been more welcomed. This will be the fourth time in two days that you require emergency medical attention, as a re-discovered child's chemistry set proves too exciting to leave alone. Do not eat all of the Caesium. You will explode. In your downtime, you will uncover a desire for Bagpuss, and by Monday you will be an expert in the adventures of the saggy cloth cat. Involve a few friends in a saucy game, Buckaroo HP. Make your friends see you in a new light, by smashing all of their lights and demanding that they put new ones in.

Capricorn

The Gods of fate insist you have a less violent weekend than the previous 200 or so. The locals just cannot feel safe with you in this mood. Turn over a new leaf, by pulling a leaf from a hedge and rotating it 180 degrees anti-clockwise. Saturn makes a right mess in your kitchen. John Cleese turns up at your house-party and is crestfallen when nobody talks about Fawlty Towers. Enrol in a course that teaches you essential skills, like rock climbing, shepherding, practical nuclear physics or arc-welding. A film about equality inspires you to employ a cat as your mechanic.

Scorpio

Scorpy. You cad! As the moon is in the house of Asparagus, you are destined to go into a club, smile at the first woman you see and promptly get it on with her. Thankfully, involvement from the bouncers stop it going any further, and after gentle pleading, the cloakroom attendant will not be pressing charges. Luck sees you win 15 driving lessons, even though you passed your test in 1976. If it is your birthday, then sadly you have been reading the wrong star-sign. Fortune favours the brave, and you realise this after hinding behind the setee for the best part of twelve hours. Daleks are not real. Mars sinks a bit, under the weight of all the probes on it. This causes you to have a massive outbreak of acne.

Libra

A woman dressed in black will intimidate and humiliate you this weekend, although it's ok because you paid good money for it. A strongly worded letter from HM Government will land on your doorstep, advising you in the strongest possible terms that you are to no-longer send soiled underwear to selected members of the cabinet. Even though they look forward to it plopping through their letterbox. Yes, we have no bananas. Gordon Ramsay will cook for you, but you will be disgusted by it. To console him, you buy him pie and chips from across the road. He cries. Fate makes you buy a tonne of cow fat.

And with a huge sigh, Mme B breaks wind for ten minutes. On closer inspection, she is playing the Romanian national anthem. And as I look through the 'bumper book of national anthems', she disappears into the setting sun, even though it's well before midday.

I'm sure we will hear from her again, but it may be a while.

Keep the faith

Madame B - Episode 4

13 January 2004 16:45

Good afternoon, believers!

And what an afternoon it is! Following Mme B's unsavoury assault with a golf club in December, she has been prone in a coma. This afternoon, she has awoken from her slumber with a snort and an uncharacteristic grab for water.

She drank like a fish, and spoke for the first time in over a month...and it wasn't swearing or requests for booze. It was an eloquent discussion about Mexico, and the problems currently facing the President, Vicente Fox.

The doctors immediately realised there was a problem, and insisted that she started doing a bit of fortune telling to jog her memory.

This is the results, which I managed to smuggle out of the hospital, wrapped in blankets.

Virgo

It is with the greatest of pleasure I can inform you that the Michigan State University Annual Financial Forecast will take place on Friday, in Grand Rapids. There is no guess-work happening here, this will happen. I have read it. Also likely to happen will be Robert Kilroy-Silk birched for his appalling comments and David Beckham to appear in at least one other newspaper before the end of the week.

Capricorn

Eh? Pass me that Scotch. That's better. Also likely to happen this week is weather. There will be weather this week. I read that too. Can't be more specific, I'm afraid, celestial forces are at work. But weather will occur between now and 5.30 on Friday afternoon. You will also be informed of more reliable horoscopes between now and the above time. Grrrrrr.

Sagittarius

Who hit me with that golf club? I'll-lavverm! Raaa! Old Sadgey, this week will bring you powerful visions of events happening in a far off land...but this will be resolved when you sit back a little from the telly, and switch off Sky News. Stay away from Neurofen. Invest heavily in badgers. What English word has twenty letters, begins with N and ends with N? Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn! Come oooon!

It was at this stage Mme B was sedated with a high-speed train. I'm glad I got out alive, and that Mme B has come out of her coma - but will she recover to her acidic horoscope providing best?

Only the future can tell.

And only one person can tell the future...

Yours Criptically

[Nothing Too Pretentious]

Madame B - Episode 0

14 November 2003 13.41

Good afternoon

Today's thoughts come from none other than Madame B[rest removed for legal reasons], Scotland's premiere Astrologer and Tea-Leaf Reading expert. 

Virgo Aug 24 - Sep 23

A powerful connection os made between your head, and a concrete fence post. This leads to sensational visions of success and prosperity, which last until you come round. Love is easily found for you today, inbetween lovdzangle and lovearch in the dictionary. Destiny points to a half finished bottle of wine. That talks to you. Your lucky number is Tuesday. 

Gemini May 22 - Jun 21

Love is in the air, on the stairs, and dripping down your gearstick. It's a passion filled weekend that stems from high pressure in Uranus. Venus brings fire, and with it. a truck filled with firemen. Don't let this opportunity pass you by. Work problems are solved with an artistic flourish, after you purchase a job lot of paint and explosive.

This and other phenomenal predictions again soon, but for today - that's all from Madame B[again, deleted for legal reasons], and her amazing regurgitating cat. 

Have fun

Madame B - Episode 3

11 December 2003, 16:41

Morning, believers.

It is with great sadness that I have to announce the postponement of Friday's Interplanetary and Celestial Alignment and Interpretation Session with Mme B. Mme B was half an hour ago (11.30) involved in a high speed collision with her head, and a three-wood golf club. Mme B is currently on a ventilator and being intravenously fed her porridge. The outlook for the golf club is more bleak, having split in two on contact. Police are looking for an irate golfer, running across Scotland in a Westerly direction on the M8.

Bravely, she still managed to curse the Doctor who prised the bucket of vodka out of her cold hands. 

Updates as and when my busy schedule of work allows.

If you find the time in your hearts - keep the faith.

Madame B - Episode 2

05 December 2003, 15:01

Hello again...

Great news! After only six hours in make-up, and a further twenty minutes chucking up, Mme B has finally decided to put that great big red feather on to her head and squeeze into a shocking gypsy dress that would make Lily Savage blush with embarrassment. She is resplendent in more rings than John's Jewellery Box in West Bromwich. In fact, it is the content of John's Jewellery Box in West Bromwich, after it was broken into last weekend.

After a melodramatic wave of her hands and a cursory glance into her rancid cat's anus, the following premonitions fell from her lips...

Gemini May 22 - Jun 21

Your weekend will look like a fetid cat's anus. Oh! Sorry. Your weekend will be positive, like a battery, long, like a cucumber and dirty, like my ex husband who worked on the fair. Mars makes a surprise appearance in your lovemaking, after your loved one watches a programme about Marianne Faithful. Ensure you have enough towels and toilet rolls so as you don't knacker your new bed clothes. Jupiter makes no effect in your life whatsoever. Steer clear of a friend who has recently been showcased on Crimewatch. Luck lives at number 43, and sadly looks like Olga Korbut.

Virgo Aug 24 - Sep 23

Virgo. Virgo, Virgo Virgo. Ah, Virgo. What a blissful weekend you have in store! Your pyjamas will be toasty, and telly will be good. Pluto provides you with the good fortune to discover a cache of 240 fags tucked behind the setee. Your microwave will also bring forth untold untold taste delights from the the frozen section at Aldi. The Sun not only provides you with the warmth and light you cravem but it will also tell you the winner of the 3.10 at Chepstow. Enjoy your weekend. Ignore all telephone calls. Discover the joys of isolation and vitamin N.

Libra September 22 - October 21

A cold weekend is in store for Libra, so stop in bed for as long as possible. Even better if it's not your own as your own bed id due for an upgrade to double size. Your best intentions to not freak out when the dawning realisation that, yes, you ARE shopping for linen on a Saturday afternoon instead of watching Gillette Soccer Special and eating soup fail miserably. You are advised in the strongest possible terms to never enter Ikea ever again. Libra's usual talent for foreign languages fails, as mischievous Mercury swaps the innocent phrase "Dzien Dobry" (Good day) for "Dozien Diabrzi" (I hope your first born is run over by Maureen from Driving School and Michael Winner urinates on the grave). Steer clear of alcohol, it will only antagonize the situation.

Capricorn Dec 22 - Jan 20

Bawdy text messages are the order of the day for you, dear Capricorn, and ones that are from unknown mobile sources are phenomenally funny to your colleagues. Neptune, the planet of water, insists that you have a bath, if not this weekend, but at least before the turn of the year. Fortune follows you everywhere you go, however he looks like Uncle Albert from Only Fools and Horses. Carry a big stick everywhere you go. Avoid flying your red kite near electricity pylons, especially around Sir James Saville. 

And with that, Mme B disappears into the mist, with only a passing "V" to the assembled celebrities in her wake. 

And that's it.

Madame B - Episode 1

05 December 2003, 08:57

Good morning, believers

I have just been tapped on the shoulder by a dishevelled and frankly hideous looking Mme B, who assures me that six bottles of Scotch a night is perfectly acceptable for a celebrity horoscope provider, such as herself. I asked her if she had ever seen Russell Grant or Mystic Meg walk into Drummond House, still clattered after a night of superpowered binge drinking. She has stormed off with a builders trowel, to hastily apply make up and invent some rubbish based on tea-leaves/the planets/upturned fish-bowl/the words the scabs on her genitals read today.

Stars update will hit your inboxes at around 11.30, but a more lurid set of stars could be available after Mme B has a couple of tots at "The Ritz" with the rest of the team here.

Keep the faith.

Madame B - Introduction

Whatever happened to Madame B?

Madame B was devised during the busy days on the [deleted for legal reasons] project, when there were literally days to kill. Inspired / ripped off from Mystic Meg’s horoscope section in The Sun, Madame B was a slightly more ‘council’, definitely alcoholic, and had a twist of travelling fairground added for good measure.

She senses peoples’ fortunes in the more unlikely aspects of the cosmos, from the alignments of subways on Jupiter, to reading the leftover light bulbs in Dale Winton’s wardrobe. 

Her readings, always surreal, yet occasionally accurate, made compelling viewing for the gathered throng at about coffee time every morning. Unfortunately, Mme B disappeared from view in obscure circumstances, which may or may not have involved a golf ball, some elastic bands, and me moving to a more demanding job.

Now, it is time to connect hands, select ‘drive’ and channel the energies to find...Madame B. 

Tales From My Youth 4

Hello again,

A few words tonight for Mailbox, the legendary teletext service that following transition to the internet seems to have ground to stop.

Paramount Text (P-Text)'s Mailbox was the vision of the Paramount Channel's in-house teletext production staff for a 'letters page' for the channels innovative teletext service. This was more interactive than a classical letters page, as it took messages from letters, faxes, answer-phone messages and the new medium of emails...and tried to print and reply to as many as possible. Submissions ranged from questions on programme scheduling to guitar chords, and detailed technical data about satellite receivers to surreal mental pictures.

(I was lucky to have a message printed on Mailbox in 1996.)

Mailbox exploded in popularity, with occasionally over one hundred pages of comments per night. There were some tongue in cheek campaigns, like to propel Chage and Aska's 'Castles In The Air' into the charts. Regular contributors were revered, and some even had their own sections - Odo's Sci Fi news, for example. "Ed", "24 Hours" and "48 Hours" were the teletext forerunners to the blog. P-Text even 'repeated' Park Lane, the Oracle teletext soap opera. It is possible that the first email to a teletext service in the UK was published by P-Text. The non channel related service was mirrored online from 1998 onwards (I think). 

As Paramount Comedy Channel (as it became) had less requirement to provide a teletext service, Mailbox ceased on broadcast but continued online (www.newmailbox.co.uk), when updates would be available either online or delivered in mail format.

I checked back in recently, and it hasn't been updated since last July.

Astonishing Fact #001

Hello

Through logging in tonight, I had a quick look at the blogs of note and spotted the intriguing New York Donut Report. I am astonished to learn that Birmingham has EXACTLY THE SAME NUMBER OF KRISPY KREME DONUT STORES THAN NEW YORK.

Not just New York City, but the whole state.

This is news of phenomenal importance.

Krispy Kreme doughnuts cost more than gold, oh but for a sweet hit of Americana with coffee...

The Newspaper Challenge

The other night, whilst doing some early morning research on something surely vital, I remembered an idea I had a while ago - does a newspaper's website meta tags accurately describe their readership? Sorry if you have fallen asleep at the back, but meta tags are the things a website thinks that are most likely to draw in searches. E.g, if i had a website about eggs, my meta tags would include words like, eggs, egg, chicken, or yolk. Not dogs, Elvis and India. Hope you get the idea.

Let's start with The Sun.

"The Sun, newspaper, Dear Deidre, Mystic Meg, page 3, page3, page 3 girls, UK, Britain, England, London, tabloid, online, internet, breaking, news, sport, showbiz, exclusives, scandal, gossip, competitions, prizes, promotions, celebrities, Bizarre, football, weather, big brother, celeb, celebrity, star, Barclaycard Premier League, Carling FA Cup, Dreamteam FC, F1 dream team, sun says, opinion, talkback, Ken Gibson, Premier, cartoons, crossword, Sun Fun, Jane Moore, John Sadler, Lorraine Kelly, chat, babes, superbabes, jukebox, investigations, 24 hour, reports, stars, horoscopes, ringtones, mobile, wwe, wrestling, jon gaunt, Gizmo, technology, keeley, sophie, ruth, gadgets, free games, chart, TV, listings, gardening, film, trailers, diets, fitness, music, fashion, motors, videos, royals, royal family, contact us, subscription, back issues, old, stories, news desk, sports, desk, team, bizarre, email, weekly, daily, sign up"

If I remember, the more important search terms are at the top. This is why three of the top seven have connections to liberated breasts. Interestingly, they reference "Carling FA Cup" - a competition that has never been sponsored by Carling. Pleasingly, Jon Gaunt isn't anywhere near the top and doesn't even get capital letters - unlike Jane Moore, John Sadler or Lorraine Kelly. However columnists like Jeremy Clarkson, Ally Ross (tv) or Kelvin McKenzie (former editor of The Sun) aren't there. Strangely, one of the less key search terms is 'desk'.

The next plan was to visit the Daily Express, but it doesn't have keywords.

Onto the last broadsheet national, the Daily Telegraph:

"online newspaper uk daily news sport weather arts money experts stock market personal finance oeics job vacancies car test drives breakdown services motor insurance motoring News Online honest john book late holiday deals cruise city break travel guides british expats brits abroad expatriate offers Sport NEWS Uk horse racing shopping ONLINE gift promotions business article education technology countryside Weather telegraph crossword society obituaries horoscopes Job Vacancies Oeics Money Experts Personal Finance Stock Market Business UK Daily SPORT Horse Racing Motoring Breakdown Services Car Test Drives Honest John Motor Insurance Late Holiday Deals Offers Book City Break Cruise Travel Guides Expats British Expatriate Brits Abroad Telegraph Newspaper Promotions Shopping Gift Education Countryside Article Arts Technology Crossword Society Horoscopes Obituaries MONEY EXPERTS OEICS PERSONAL FINANCE STOCK MARKET JOB VACANCIES DAILY BUSINESS TECHNOLOGY ARTICLE EDUCATION ARTS TELEGRAPH MOTORING CAR TEST DRIVES MOTOR INSURANCE BREAKDOWN SERVICES HONEST JOHN GIFT SHOPPING PROMOTIONS NEWSPAPER OBITUARIES HOROSCOPES BOOK CITY BREAK CRUISE OFFERS HOLIDAY WEATHER TRAVEL GUIDES LATE DEALS BRITS ABROAD BRITISH EXPATRIATE EXPATS HORSE RACING COUNTRYSIDE CROSSWORD SOCIETY"

Quite a chunky set for terms there. Interestingly, the 13th is OIECS, which is a quite obscure financial acronym, meaning Open-Ended Investment Companies. 'Honest John' gets a mention, as well as some nuggets about Expatriates. Curiously, the keywords shout 'daily SPORT' - which may mean this turns up in a search for the newspaper of that name before it does. Then it seems the same search terms are rekeyed for people WHO TYPE LIKE THEY ARE SHOUTING. 

The Times doesn't have Meta Tags, but the copyright on their JavaScript from WebSideStory expired in 2004.

Also without tags is the Daily Mirror.

Lastly tonight, the Daily Mail.

"Sudoku, horoscopes, political analysis, news, Don't Miss, pictures, comment, Daily Mail, Mail on Sunday newspapers, sport, Westminster, opinion"
Quite a concise 12 terms, with Sudoku seeming to be the top draw, and in second place horoscopes, and after those two, the trivial "political analysis"!
More on this some other time.

Fishing For Cats

Evening,

As things like washing up or attempting a social life begin to decrease in importance, new hobbies/exercises in time-wasting spring up in their place. This is where fishing for cats comes in.

Increasing numbers of local cats visit this house when the windows are open to have a nose around. Then they see me, and then run away. I decided to try to lure in a cat to play with for a while, just to see if I could.  A couple of nights this week, I laid some tuna out in a bowl, which caused severe interest, but no actual sightings. Cats prefer fish to sweet-corn, in a shock development.

After reading up on Felis catus, and learning about how they like to stalk things, I devised a very simple 'bird on a string' toy/lure which was literally string and some newspaper. This didn't work yesterday.

Tonight, I saw a cat peeking out from behind the sofa, so I casually found out the stringy toy and let the cat fall for it. It ripped it off the string and ran away, destroying the 'bird' with vigor. I threw the string in frustration, but the cat thought that the 'bird' was still alive and went for it again. After 10 minutes of Machiavellian-orchestrated playing, I closed the windows and bagged my first cat.

Felis catus thinks 'Bugger, I've been comprehensively out thought. How to get out?' 

Felis catus resigned to being out-thought, but still protecting it's hard earned snake/lure/string, becomes Felis domesticus.

Needless to say, I let it go shortly afterwards, after giving it some milk and some friendly tickles.

Welcome To Birmingham, 4

Yet more pictures!

Here's John Bull protesting about the EU Treaty, outside the Labour Party Conference in Birmingham, earlier this year. As you can see by the sheer level of concern on his face, this is a crisis that seriously vexes the 296-year-old fictional British everyman.

More from killing an afternoon in London. I did some sightseeing of a purely anorak style, with a trip to two places in London that I tracked down by post-code alone (gasp!) E3 2NN, and W12 7RJ.  Starting with W12, here is the BBC Television Centre.

Followed by a trip to Bow, and 2 Lock Keepers Cottages, now a private residence. This seems to have been rebuilt after a supposedly devastating fire ( I don't remember the loft windows), but some very visible clues remain.

Finally, some guerilla signposting, in Marble Arch.

Welcome To ...London?

Afternoon,

Some poor quality shots from the ever unreliable K750, taken in That London, in December 2005.

As ever, descriptions below the images.

A building I will always know as the "G.P.O Tower", or "Post Office Tower", but officially now, the BT Tower. Icon of sixties London, once destroyed in 1972 in an unprovoked attack by Twinkle, a giant kitten.

Modern London, merges with Classical London. The Gherkin (Swiss Re Building), the NatWest Tower, and St. Pauls all in shot.

Here I am trying to recreate my own John Peel "Radio One, 1967"  moment, outside All Souls' Church. This is literally a stones throw away from BBC Broadcasting House....

...which is here. Note that the signs have gone, if you check back to my Something Pretentious 1 post earlier on.

I am in the middle of Tower Bridge, spanning the crack. And trying to not get stabbed.

Welcome To Birmingham, 3

It is a genuinely glorious Sunday afternoon in the great city, of Birmingham, Ingerland. So I choose to enjoy it by doing some blog updates in a room that according to my £1.99 Tesco thermometer touched 50°C at One O'Clock.

After this, I will be exposing my backside to some cycle-based abuse at the hands of the Spinning class instructor at the gym, then cheering on Poland to almost certain defeat at the hands of Germany in Euro 2008.

I seem to be averse to sunshine.

Anyhow, here are some more interesting examples of contemporary urban photography, compiled and composed by me (descriptions below pictures):

According to the camera, I took this at seven in the morning (!). This is what remained of the Victorian frontage to the old Central Television building, before the unstoppable JCB of progress pulled it down.

Central Television lasted as a separate entity for about 15 years, however it has more of a lasting reputation than other channels that have been around for a similar time (hello, Channel 5!). After the predatory purchase of Central by Carlton (who in turn were merged into oblivion by "ITV Plc.", Ha!) a process of de-Centralization took place, with these studios being sold off and the contents auctioned off for pennies. After the auction, many things were left unsold - there are reports of a slew of awards for Central being discovered in a big skip. One of the very last remnants of Central is this sign, which one day may be Tippex-ed back into existence! 

Next door to the studios is (the previously owned by ATV/Central) Alpha Tower, a dynamic and alternative approach to seventies architecture. You may see that every one of the windows has its own air vent. And isn't rectangular. And the whole building isn't a shape that is taught in primary school. Impressive, if you stand next to it and look up. Gulp.

Alternative view of Alpha Tower (side).

View of Alpha Tower from the 'other side'.

Continuing through Broad Street, to the immediate right of Central Studios, what appears at first to be an incredibly grand location for a cashpoint. Until you read the very subtle stone on the building (above), which reads:

The first municipal savings bank in Great Britain

This stone was laid on October 22nd 1932 by

The Rt. Hon. Neville Chamberlain M.P.

Chancellor of the Exchequer

First chairman of the bank by whom the idea was originally concievd and who was principally responsible for its location.

John. B. Burman Lord Mayor    John. P. Hilton. General Manager

How about that for a slice of Second World War starter nostalgic fried gold?

Moving down a bit, my contribution to the Birmingham Tourist Board photography cache. To the left, Brindleyplace and its clock tower, to the right the 'World Famous in Birmingham' International Convention Centre, at the back the National Indoor Arena [home of the original batch of Gladiators], nicely bisected by post industrial waterway. Nice. I even managed to include the mandatory 'obscured passer by'.

Currently, a symbolic electricity pylon has been erected outside the Council House. Odd. Somewhere, a village in Shropshire is without electricity for the sake of symbolism. To the right, the Council House, to the rear, the refurbished Town Hall, far distance, Alpha Tower.

I was unaware of this until I had enforced waits for trains (thanks, London Midland), but Birmingham has the largest sky in Europe. This is sunset, on Tuesday from the top of Snow Hill station [or more correctly, Livery Street Car Park].

Here is the same view, reflected in the windows of a building [illegally occupying the site of the once great Snow Hill station].

And finally, a picture I have entitled "Triumph of Nature over Man".

A quick word on the new release of Apple's Safari (3.1.1.525.17) - faster than Lewis Hamilton's relocation to Switzerland following earning some tremendous wedge (good work fella).

Enjoy the rest of the weekend!

Something A Little Pretentious 2

Hello,

here is a delightful picture of me allowing a little pretentiousness into my life, a few years ago. Fear not! I was pretending to be French.