IRA decommission their weapon (honest)

An aid to General John de Chastelain stands alongside the weapon prior to decommissioning.

The IRA has put all of its weapon beyond use, the head of the arms decommissioning body has said. Mr de Chastelain said that he had personally removed the elastic band and wouldn't be giving it back.

See that there 80's Norwegian pop sensation Aha together with that there Dr. Evil and his sidekick Mini Me...

 
...you imagine yourself to be their illegitimate love child you do.

The War on Nature

In a completely contrived story imagined by myself, George 'dubya' Bush has declared war on what he calls "the ultimate enemy"; nature. The White House has described Hurricane Rita as the second unprovoked attack on US soil in as many months. In a statement it said it could no longer stand by whilst this organisation killed innocent US citizens, it had to act.

Soon after this the president is known to have met with a group of top Mathematicians working in the field of chaos theory. Not long after that meeting, President Bush signed an order granting government agents the right to shot to kill the entire US population of butterflies.

In a brief statement that he didn't make, President Bush said "My fellow Americans and other peoples of the free world of none American origin. Our war on terror has expanded. We face a new adversary; nature. Nature is all around us. Do not believe Nature will not harm you. Be scared, but remain patriotic. Rest assured we will prevail."

So what do we know of this organisation, Nature. Well, surprisingly we know an awful lot. Whilst the exact origins of the organisation are unknown there is a lot of evidence that Nature was established many millions of years ago. Some people even believe it just took 6 days for the entire organisation to be constructed. The organisation is thought to be headed by someone known only as 'Mother Nature'. Whilst there are no images of her, government intelligence groups here in the UK believe she lives in the Croydon area of London and have already appealed to the House of Commons for authority to commence phone tapping.

Monkeys from his butt

Him: "...just like when monkeys came from his butt..."

Me: "Wait, wait! When what, came from where?"

Him: "His butt. Monkeys, you know?"

Me: "No. Hahahahaha! You are fucking with me right?"

Him: "I shit you not."

Me: "But how did they get up there and more to the point how did they get out? You are fucking with me"

Him: "Come on, would I?"

Me: "Yes"

Him: "Hahahahahaha, yeah you got me. I'm just joking"

Me: "Hahahahahaha. Bastard, I knew it!"

Him: "Got you."

Me: "Yeah you got me."

Both: quiet

Him: "So that was Pizza Hut, Didsbury you wanted?"

I just love hanging with those guys at 118118

Pete! How the devil are ya?

Although billions of people can read your blog, it doesn't need to have mass appeal. Many people blog a lot of everyday things. Perhaps for the benefit of a close group of friends or family. For others they write just in case they make a connection with someone they have never and will never meet. Another reason people write about the everyday is to help collect their own thoughts. I find this idea quite appealing as my thoughts are often muddled and my memory of exact events never actually that, well, exact. So here goes.

I bumped into an old mate called Pete last night at Tescos. I shouted "Pete, Pete!", but he couldn't hear me. So I went closer to him and said "Pete, Pete!" He still didn't hear me. He was packing his shopping into his car, probably relieved to get out of the madness that is the modern hypermarket. I readjusted my tone. "Pete!". He turned around, saw me and smiled. It was good to catch up.

Hang on, was that how it happened?

I bumped into an old mate called Pete last night at Tescos. I shouted "Pete, Pete!", but he couldn't hear me. So I went closer to him and said "Pete, Pete!" I was getting closer. I started to panic. "Peteeee!" I screamed. He looked up and leapt out the way as I swerved to the right, just missing a car. I stopped. "Where the fuck is your head?" I shouted "I nearly came off my bike!" "Sorry", he said "Miles away. New bike?" I got off.

No, now I'm getting more muddled; this is harder than I thought. Ahhh, yep I remember now...

I bumped into an old mate called Pete last night at Tescos. I shouted "Pete, Pete!", but he couldn't hear me. So I went closer to him and said "Pete, Pete!". He still couldn't hear me. Not surprising really as, for a street audience the applause was quite energetic. I gave up and just stood and watched. "For my next trick" Pete began, "I will need a volunteer from the crowd and" he paused, "a shotgun". The crowd laughed. He winked at me. So he had seen me. "Come on, someone must want to volunteer". The crowd laughed again. He was good, I'd give him that.

Sorry about this. Very embarrassing, that's not what happened.

I bumped into an old mate called Pete last night at Tescos. I shouted "Pete, Pete!", but he couldn't hear me. So I went closer to him and said "Pete, Pete!" He was ignoring me. I don't blame him after what happened. I gave it one more shot. "Peteeee!" I screamed. A woman and a man turned around and smiled nervously. Pete looked up and stared. I stared back, said nothing. He looked away. I walked on. He obviously hasn't forgiven me.

No, that's not it either.

I bumped into an old mate called Pete last night at Tescos. I shouted "Pete, Pete!", but he couldn't hear me. So I went closer to him and said "Pete, Pete!". He turned to look at me, his eyes as dead as night. "Feed me" he mouthed. Blood oozing from his mouth. I started backwards, edging away from him as he began to move toward me. "Feed me!" he cried again. As I looked around I noticed the same glazed look on other peoples eyes. A woman moved closer and grabbed my arm. I jumped. "If you want to live trust me" she said and pulled me towards a blue van whose engine was running.

Come to think of it I don't think it was like that either. Maybe...

I bumped into an old mate called Pete last night at Tescos. I shouted "Pete, Pete!", but he couldn't hear me. So I went closer to him and said "Pete, Pete!". No reply. I draw even closer. "Pete, its me" I said. No reply. I moved right next to him. "Hi Pete" I said. He got in his car, closed the door as though I wasn't even there. I banged on the window. "Hey, man wait" I shouted as he started the engine and began to reverse. "Careful Pete, you'll run me...." My words cut short as Pete and his car passed straight through me. I stood in amazement. My God, the old man was right. I am dead.

Hmmmm.. Last go.

I bumped into an old mate called Pete last night at Tescos. I shouted "Pete, Pete!", but he couldn't hear me. So I went closer to him and said "Pete, Pete!". As he turned around I realised that it wasn't Pete but none other than Simon Le Bon from Duran Duran. "Oppps, sorry I thought you were someone else", I said. "Not at all.", he replied, "I bet you thought I was Pete Burns from 80's pop weirdos Dead or Alive?". "No", I replied. And walked off.

Ohh God, I'm well muddled. I know.

Last night I stayed in and did nothing.

There. Easy. That tally with your memory of events Pete?

See that there Condoleezz Rice, Assistant to the US President for National Security Affairs...

...you fancy her you do.

SOSUV: The Devils Ringpiece

Bear with me on this, I know where I am going.

There are three major forms of fossil fuels: coal, oil and natural gas. The age when they were formed is called the Carboniferous Period (part of the Paleozoic Era if you are really interested) and occurred from about 360 to 286 million years ago. Oil has been used for more than 5,000-6,000 years. The ancient Sumerians, Assyrians and Babylonians used crude oil and asphalt (or 'pitch') collected from large seeps at Tuttul (modern-day Hit) on the Euphrates River. The ancient Egyptians, used liquid oil as a medicine for wounds, and oil has been used in lamps to provide light. However, it wasn't until 1859, when Edwin L. Drake pumped the first oil from underground in Pennsylvania USA, that the mass extraction of oil began.

Now, in recent times the majority of oil extracted from the Earth has been used to power transportation; airplanes, boats, cars, motorbikes, etc. Millions of years in the making with the potential to accelerate our technological evolution. A free, but limited energy stepping stone for mankind. You can almost believe it to be a divine gift (if your that way inclined) for making it down from the trees and getting along with each other a bit better (relatively speaking, obviously). And what do we do with it? Yep, burn it.

Yes I know that to liberate the potential energy bound up in the fuel the rapid chemical reaction known as combustion is very useful. And yes I'm sure that some very important developments in mankinds advancement have been made possible because people get to travel to each other. No it's not that we do it. It's not even that we do it a lot (well it is that too). It's just how it is done that can really annoy me. Well, OK, I'll be honest, its fucking Sports Utility Vehicles that annoy me.

How they look. How they are driven. Them that drives them.

Tell me, at what point does some city dwelling, overpaid halfwit have the thought "Blimey, the grass verges outside Tristians* school are getting a bit overgrown I doubt the Jaguar will have the horse power to get off on a dewy morning. I wonder what kind of vehicle I could buy to deal with this issue?" And when they do have this little conversation with themselves, where the hell does the notion of buying the Suburu XRTDD9000 Ex-Military Bastard Wagon become a perfectly reasonable solution? I ask you! (does a rhetorical question need a question mark? Hell, here's one just in case '?')

I think that drivers of SUVs are a 'special' breed; as in sat - at - the - back - of - the - class - with - a - book - with - no - big - words - in - during - english - lessons - smelling - of - wee special. Of which their elite is the Single Occupancy SUV driver (SOSUV).

One man (or sadly to say quite often one woman). One tank. One mile per gallon.

I'm fortunate enough to be able to observe this particular group in one of their many natural habitats in one of the wealthy parts of Cheshire in the UK (I don't live their, I just work there). And I'm pretty sure they have all been on the same SOSUV driving course which must consist of the following classes;

• Eye contact and how to avoid it


• Nudging out in an SUV, even white van drivers think twice


• Lifts and 25 excuses for not giving them


• Bluetooth headsets and other paraphernalia to make you feel more like Captain Scarlet


• The road and why you own it [joint class with drivers of 'Marques of Distinction']

I might be alone in my world, but I'm not alone in my dislike for SUVs.

*AntToeKnee would like to take this opportunity to apologise to anyone called Tristian. However, with a name like that you probably deserve it so this an opportunity he won't be taking. Sorry.

See that there Jay Kay of that there band Jamiroquai...

...thats your mum that is.

Nobody asked me but...

...no, I don't think Noel Coward would approve of the Bush administration.

I happen to be in a fortunate position when it comes to knowing the mind of the late Noel Coward. For nearly 40 years my father has been in regular contact with his dead spirit. What is perhaps most remarkable about this is, for the first 10 years, Noel Coward was still alive. Indeed at the precise moment he died on the 26th March 1973 he was busy lecturing my father, as he often did, on the joy of the theatre. "The theatre should be treated with respect. The theatre is a wonderful place, a house of strange enchantment, a temple of illusion. What it most emphatically is not and never will be is..." at which point he announced that he felt somewhat dizzy and would reconnect again in a moment. As promised, a few minutes later my father could once again hear the familiar call of "Dear boy, dear boy! as Noel always referred to him. He then continued "Now, where was I? ahh yes.. What it most emphatically is not and never will be is a scruffy, ill-lit, fumed-oak drill hall serving as a temporary soap box for political propaganda." Apparently, during this brief pause, Noel Coward had taken the opportunity to die of a heart attack and pass over to the other side. My father tells me that this event had two noticeable affects on their discussions. First, it seemed to improve Noel Cowards overall state of mind because of, one must assume, more liberal attitudes in the afterlife towards things like homosexuality and the wearing of smoking jackets. Secondly, it greatly reduced the background noise.

Ever since Noel has kept my father appraised of current thinking in the spirit world, on a wide variety of matters. For instance I recently learnt that Genghis Karn believes Sven to be right in keeping England in a 4-4-2 formation. Also, whilst they admit they aren't experts, Albert Einstein and Tomas de Torquemada (who in 1483 became the inquisitor-general for most of Spain) both feel that the 'Pop Idol' formula isn't working anymore and "...that Simon Cowell bloke can be a complete cunt." (Einsteins words apparently)

On George 'dubya' Bush, Noel has this to say; "He is a first class buffoon. Whilst I am quite prepared, on occasion, to suffer a fool, I would not extend an invitation to anyone with such obvious consanguinity to the ape world." And if he is no good for Noel Coward, then he is no good for England. Pip, pip. Chin up.

Progress Jim, but not as we know it

It is my firm belief that genuine progress has only occured in Britain during two periods. Once between around 55 BC and 400 AD when a lot of the basic infrastructure necessary to run a country was introduced; roads, education, sewers, farming and the like. The second period occured during the 1800's when, essentially, a lot of this infrastructure was modernised. I guess some of this you may remember from your history lessons. However, what you probably weren't taught at school was that all of this work was carried out under the supervision of an alien race, originally known as the Romans and more recently as The Victorians. When they left for the second time, in the early nineteenth century they did so in enormous velvet linned, iron clad spacecraft. Undoubtedly powered by steam and with a Lionel Jefferies like character at the helm.

Very little of anything productive happened in-between these two periods. There was the introduction of a lot of bureaucracy; some light killing; the creation of various religious subcatagories; the persecution of unfashionable religious subcatagories; some heavier killing in the name of religion and it's more fashionable subcatagories as well as a wide variety of silly hats. However in the most part we British stood around, got wet and apologised for stuff, especially the getting wet but, oddly not often for the killing and never for the hats.

"So what about all the wonders that have been developed since?" I don't hear you not asking. Well, let us take for example the Apple iPod Shuffle. Now I'm a fan of Apple and in particular what it has done to bring style to a UNIX model operating system. However, the Shuffle is actually being marketed on the absense of a feature, i.e. a screen. Apple are trying to convince us that not knowing what song will play next will somehow enrich our otherwise predictable and mundane existances. I imagine Apple will next suggest that owners of original iPods can spice up their lives by Gaffer taping over their screens. What next? Will Ordnance Survey release a cheaper series of "maps" - essentially blank pieces of paper - so we can experience the fun and general wackiness of not having the faintest idea how to get off the mountain? I doubt our Victorian overlords would have been impressed. No, I expect they would have placed the iPod Shuffle in a freakshow alongside the incredible bearded lady and Jo-Jo the dogfaced boy.

See that there William Wallace...

...thats you that is

Biscuit of the Week a "Disappointment"

In the fast moving world of biscuits Nice-cup-of-tea-and-a-sit-down is reporting that Biscuit of the Week, a new chocolate chip cookie, is a "diappointment". Initially this weeks contender, the McVities Chip 'n' Chunk Cookie, promised to delight. Testers were looking for "quality, innovation and good old fashioned cup of tea appeal" from the new line in cookie style biscuits from McVities. They were happy to note that hydrogenated fat had been left out as is proving more common with biscuit manufacturers nowadays. They were further encouraged by the increase in chocolate content with the introduction of larger milk chocolate chunks. Ultimately, however the biscuit didn't deliver, "...the chocolate bits are all very chocolately as one would hope for, but the biscuit part seems to have taken a step back to become a simple foil to the chocolate" said one of the testers. It seems as though, for now at least, Maryland can rest easy.

A McVities spokesperson hasn't been contacted.

Full Story Here

Behold the majesty(ies) of our creator(s)!

Cast aside your heathen beliefs and embrace the one, true religion at The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Visit this site to be touched by his noodly appendage. Alternatively, you could choose to be blessed by the holy hooves of the The Invisible Pink Unicorn. This religion takes an opposing stance to that of the Fly Spaghetti Monster, asserting that it is a real test of faith to believe that something invisible is indeed pink. Hmmm, looks like your traditional faiths are starting to get some decent competition at last.

See that there 'A Flock of Seagulls'...

...that's you that is.

Not everyone has a mate called Dave

My mate Dave pronounces the word "Magnificent" in such a way that, when I heard it for the first time, it made me realise I had been misusing the word all of my life. I don't use it anymore because if I do, I feel like a fake; a pretender; a pale imitation of its one, true guardian. I know how it should sound and the emotions it should evoke and I don't see that in people when I say it. Or anybody else for that matter. Only when Dave does. I say pronounce but Dave almost roars the initial "Mag" as though trying to gain the attention of any available lioness roaming the Serengeti. By the time he gets into the "ificent" the whole room is electrified and somewhat unnerved. However, as if knowing that his entire audience is now in the exact same mental state as it would be, had they just discovered that a small thermo-nuclear device had been implanted in their underpants, Dave soothes them with gentle yet reassuring tone. To be in the room when he said it was an experience, but to be the recipient was truly a humbling event. When Dave told you something was "Magnificent" you were left with absolutely no doubt that it was. In that moment the magnificence of whatever it was you were discussing was so certain to you that it sat just above the entry for "what is your name" on a list of things of which you were certain.

Dave worked in the same research group as me for a number of years as a quantum chemist with a particular interest in dipole-dipole couplings (no, me neither). His lab was across the 'quad' from mine and I often imagined what might be going on in there - I can spend a lot of time 'away with the fairies'. I could quite have imagined Dave to come rushing out of his lab, frazzled looking and wide eyed. Grabbing the first poor foreign student who happened by and yelling "What year is it?!" Their answer quickly followed with the second demand of "Well, what month?" and so on until he was on the phone to the speaking clock to test the accuracy of the students wrist watch to the nearest millisecond. When you went into his lab, you never knew if you were gonna find him stood their all 'Gordon Freeman' like, clutching a crowbar demanding to know if "you saw them too". Or whether, late at night you would find the room bathed in the glow of a completely new colour, Dave struggling with the controls of some enormous, slightly unstable looking contraption mumbling something about "the portal collapsing too soon". Even receiving an email from Dave could bring butterflies to the stomach. Seeing his name under From I half expected the text to apologise for some recent disruption to the space-time continuum and to assure us that he will have the value of pi back to close to the original within the hour, but in the meantime we may experience some irregularities with anything reasonably spherical (and that it was probably best not to drive).

I still hold out hope for Dave to take his rightful place as the next Dr. Who. That way I really could relive my childhood; hiding behind the sofa to watch it. Not because the monsters scare me you understand. No, no. Solely because, with Dave at the helm, I'm pretty sure the visual effects for the TARDIS dematerialising would start to look just a little too convincing.

The Fuuuutuuuure

My earliest computing memory is of a cold Christmas morning in '82. That was the year I got my first computer, a Commodore Vic-20. To be honest, I was a little fearful of it. This was no bout of infant technophobia, but genuine concern for my soul. You see due to poor spelling my Christmas list had accidently been sent to Satan. Although I desperately wanted the machine I was more than a little reluctant to trade my living soul and consequently condeming myself to an eternity of suffering at the hand of the cloven one, in exchange for this electronic trinket. Well, I mean, it only had 3.5KB of RAM. However, it didn't take me long to overcome my concerns and begin a long and happy career in computing. And I wasn't alone. Many of todays computing professionals cut their teeth on machines that were little more than pocket calculators that you couldn't use when Coronation Street was on. However, it was this simplicity, this unembelished physical implemetation of the very essence of what makes a computer that allowed school children across the world to experience, understand and quickly master the technology. As a result many of the leading software packages and top games were the output of one individual. From their bedroom. Written in the time between the end of 'Willow The Wisp' and trying to sneak downstairs unnoticed to see the start of The Sweeney (sorry to anyone not versed in late 1970's/early 1980's British TV)

Fast-forward a couple of decades to find my four year old daughter interacting with CBeebies characters, rendered almost indistiguishable from their TV counterparts. All this done on a home computer whose performance is several orders of magnitude greater than the machines on which her father did a numerically intensive, computing PhD. How will her generation cut their teeth? I can't believe this will be a father-daughter shared experience. What I can believe is that open source software projects will have a part to play in developing their appreciation, knowledge and most importantly their interest. Both technically, in terms of the tools and software available as well as culturally. I just hope the hardware doesn't cost me an arm and a leg.

Still, if I need the extra money, I could always market my idea for a 'Top-Trumps Computing Components' series. You may well laugh, but I'm convinced that the 400GB Hitachi Deskstar 7K400 (in the Hard Disk pack) would gain the same legendary status as the Silver Surfer in the original Marvel Heroes edition. Probably.

Bush Wacka

The aftermath of hurricane Katrina has left me with an ominous thought. If George W. Bush could watch images of a f**king enormous hurricane bearing down on the Southern states of the USA and do so little, what chance that he will respond to a few graphs showing the predicted increases a CO2 emissions? They should sow the fur back on and release him back into the rainforest with the rest of the chimps.

Anderson you old bugger you

Bloddy hell! I've just finished watching an episode of the New Captain Scarlet series and it is pretty damn good. All CGI and, bar a few wobbly face gestures, has a fantastic cinematic feel that only Gerry could deliver. As with the original the storylines are quite dark. "Groovy!" (as Bruce Campbell once said, as he donned a chainsaw replacing the hand he had just cut off).

Zero Comment Blogs of the World Unite!

If you flick around using the 'next blog' button you come across a lot of weird and wonderful blogs. OK, you hit a lot of chaff mainly various blog spams - both classic I-have-something-to-sell-you-spam and those awful blogs that connect to piles of other sites and bombard you with as many demonstrations as possible that the writer read a javascript book once. You know what I mean, blogs like this one - why are they always Japanese girls between the ages of 12-16? Anyway I digress. Something you notice as you blog wonder is that there are many sincerely, well written blogs out there which get little readership, if the post comments are to be believed at any rate. So distressing is this lack of obvious interest that some people turn off the add comment functionality altogether. Better convince themselves that they actually have a very large and enthusiastic audience, aching to contact this artistic genius. So if you read a blog post a comment. More than that seek out the 'Zero Comment' blogs (yep like mine, well have you never read The Selfish Gene?) and bring a little happiness. Particulalrly if your own blog appears more written to be written than written to be read. You can start with the 'next blog' you find :)

P.S.
Has anyone else noticed that the built in spell checker on blogger, doesn't recognise the word 'blog' - how very odd.

Winners and losers

Technology is a funny thing. As with anything there are winners and losers.

Consider the problems now faced by any genuine African nation dictator. They must be particularly anxious. Why? Well, exactly how will they dispose of their wealth once they become exiled? Imagine you were to get an email from someone in this position, begging for your assistance in getting their money out of the country before the coup d 'etat. I bet you would just delete it wouldn't you? I wouldn't be surprised if your email system has done that numerous times already, without you even knowing. Poor bastards. After spending weeks researching you on the internet, learning about your great bushiness accument and how your are such an honorable person. What do you do? You don't even bother to read this heart felt plea from a desperate man. Yes, he may have made some mistakes, but doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? After all, he was probably intending to use the money to move many of the orphans from his country to a better life in the west. It's even worse once the bloke has died and his innocent wife is being hounded out of the country and you could be her last hope. You make me sick.

On the other hand there are some winners. Like people with schizophrenia, who until less than a decade ago where easily recognizable as mentalists by the simple fact they talked to themselves on public transport. Well, now it's a lot harder to spot them, thanks to the prevalence of mobile phone hands free systems. Oh yes, now they blend in to the community; just appearing as though they are having a permanent conversation with a close family member who is asking them to do something they don't, to the pretty girl in front. I think even Gollum would get away with it most of the time.

Retraction of apology

Hell, why should I apologise? It's my blog after all so I can write what I want. I don't need your approval. If you don't like it you can just p**s off and go back to your own blog. Shabby little effort that it is. Ohh yes, not feeling so clever now are you?

Apology for the previous post

Sorry, that was very lame.

Not really the weather for it

My sunroof leaked. Just a little bit. Thanks Renault. Wouldn't have been a problem had the infra-red receiver for the central locking not been situated in the sunroof cluster. Even that wouldn't have been too much of a problem if it wasn't for the fact that the central locking circuit is also the car immobiliser circuit. Or, expressed mathematically;

Leaky Sunroof + (Moment of Design Madness) = Car Not Start

Thanks Renault. Fixed it (thankfully) using a screwdriver and some tissues. Thanks Kleenex. Until it rains again that is. Which it does tend to in Manchester, England. Considerably more than in France if my cars design is anything to go by.

Subliminal message

Do you think Sky News are trying to tell us something here?

What I want from Google for this Christmas

Is an image search system that will find only pictures that include me. Now I have a PhD in image analysis, so I know this is virtually science fiction but then so are my chances of sleeping with Winona Ryder but I can still dream can't I?!

Just think about it (the image search that is, not sleeping with Winona Ryder...well not while reading this anyway). Everybody is using digital cameras today and sticking their pictures on the web. Wouldn't you like to know what pictures of you, your friends are putting up and, perhaps more importantly, what comments they've added?! Even more interesting would be finding pictures of you that you didn't know your were in. You only have to walk around a large city for a day or two and you are virtually guaranteed to be in the background on someones shot. Pulling a face or just walking past. With the increase in cameras housing GPS units you could even generate a map of where you were and when you were there. Neat hey? Obviously this could also be used for more covert tasks, sort of passive CCTV. Come on Google, get your finger out. What is stopping you apart from the current practical impossibility of the task, due to the lack of any real, robust facial recognition systems? Huh, call yourselves innovative? Innovative my arse.

Nobody asked me but...

...yes your arse does look big in that.

Essentially because it is big and it will continue to look big unless, either by way of optical illusion or witchcraft, you make it appear otherwise. Please note that attempting to divert my attention away from said backside by exposing your flabby belly (as a well insulated fashionable midrift perhaps?) or wearing a lowcut top, revealing your gargantuan breasts will not magically force me to forget just how large your bumcheeks look in those ridiculously tight jeans you have had yourself sown into. No and neither will the overall effect just make me believe that a small headed lady is standing closer than you are. Either take more exercise, have some of it surgically removed or learn to love that which all those pies helped produce.

When virtual worlds collide

So it's a 3D computer rendering of a kids isometric building toy used to draw characters for a 1980's 2D scrolling computer game. Doesn't this constitute some kind of danger to the temporal continum? Sure does look prrrreeettttyy though.

Where the f**k....

...is my blog? Well now you can ask Google. Now if only the kings of search would produce something to find my f**king keys, that really would be useful!

On the subject of Google, what's the plural of Google? I mean if you have more than one browser tab open on Google what do you say? Googles, Googi? What is the collective noun? Is it a flock of Googles or a flange? God it must be Thursday. This kind of thing always happens on Thursdays.

Nobody asked me but...

...no it is not OK for men to wear tweed.

Tweed was a fabric originally developed by the Victorians as wearable form of asbestos. It was usually worn by the man of the house whenever he performed duties involving fire, in a low-fashion setting. It was also adopted by gentlemen mountain climbers as well as being used to preserve bodies when there was no ice available. However, it quickly fell from favour in the early part of the 20th Century when Nobel Prize winning Physicist Niels Bohr proved, by way of a series of ingenius experiments, that it looked rubbish. Tweed was later outlawed in Britain until 1968 when then Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, revoked the law in the now classic tweedgate typographic error. Although it is still produced in mansize, most tweed in the UK is used for dustbin jackets and to pacify dogs. See also Kevlar.

Quantifiable Stupidity

If a man can walk a week in a fortnight, how many apples in a bunch of grapes? Answer: a piece of wood this -> <- colour.
Obvious really. Can't see why I didn't think of it before.

Reading Slashdot this week, as I do, I came across an post on "Controlling Hurricanes". Hang on I'll stick the link in for you, there you go. Apparently, well you can read it. So errrmmm... finished? well the end then I suppose. Hang on, that was a bit crap. What's the point in having a blog that I just pass by reference? OK, start again...

Reading Slashdot this week, as I do, I came across an post on "Controlling Hurricanes". Hang on I'll stick the link in for you, there you go. Apparently, (I haven't actually read it, or even followed the link - honest the hyperlink still renders blue!) an article in Scientific America investigates ways in which to dissipate the energy in a hurricane before it can cause a problem. Various ideas are suggested including cooling the sea using icebergs. I suggested that perhaps the US could just ratify the Kyoto agreement and begin to address the causes of some of the real climate dangers facing the US. This wasn't popular.

Jesus, my life is dull.