Undoomed

I'm really quite chuffed with this;



It's film student coursework. I was originally intended to read on-camera, but studio time pressures kyboshed that. The result was cobbled together from mere test footage, but for all that, I think it's still a cut above the average student short. I'd love to have had a play in that trench, though...

More like this to come, plus I've got a small role in SLT's production of Agatha Christie's "Witness For The Prosecution". Not quite blink-and-you'll-miss-me; but a good yawn might do it. After "Inspector", I needed something a little less all-consuming, so this is a nice change of pace.

Big Top, Cold Shoulder

I've become the official owner of one of these. Ow. It's been getting steadily worse since my accident and now 2-1B has decided to intervene. He'll be going "through the keyhole" presently.

Other things are going better, specifically in the thespian sphere. "An Inspector Calls" went down well enough, and I've been busy with some short movie parts; some student projects at the Met Uni, and completed work on"The Doll" last month. I'm currently growing a moustache for another studio date next week. That's suffering for Art, that is...

Fire, Blood & Anguish...

After a hideously short, intense rehearsal process, Swansea Little Theatre rolled out J.B. Priestley's An Inspector Calls last night, to a full house. The classic play's presence on the GCSE syllabus has ensured big audiences for the run, which lasts until Saturday 19th.

Last night was intended to be a final dress rehearsal, but demand from school parties was so great that the theatre had to open it up, thus losing us another day from our already tight schedule. Seeing the results as a kind of "shakedown" makes me feel very positive about the remainder of the run.

It's been a fraught and nervous few weeks but, as usual, it all seems worth it when the audience cheers - and, bless 'em, they went for it last night all right! We even managed to survive our stage manager being taken ill at the last minute (Get Well soon, Hannah!) which only increased the sense of a backs-to-the-wall triumph.

Playing the title role gives me a (relatively) easy ride from Priestley's complex, wordy and often repetitive script. Others are not so lucky, and it has been an education to witness - not to mention, a privilege to benefit from - their grace under pressure.

So it's Thanks and Well Done to; Ian McCloy, Deborah Rees, Jeni Lewis, Mark Rees, Piers Morgan-Harvey and Hannah Harries. Troupers, all. You make it easy.

Having My Cake

So anyway, H and I sat under the tree on Christmas morning and unwrapped our jumpers. Yes, we bought each other jumpers. "Darling, it's over. We're middle aged." I said, and hugged her tightly for a fearful moment, as we stared together into the oncoming storm. If the experience contained any truth, then the future will be mostly about baubles...

If I say that I hardly left the kitchen all day it will sound like a complaint, but in fact it was highly rewarding - and not just because of the constant supply of port and chocolates. I reduced raveous in-laws to muffled moans for mercy not once, but twice, and once they had been sent packing loaded with my "Nuclear Ginger Cake 2.0", my triumph was universally acknowledged. Domestic godhood is mine.

Meanwhile, the England & Wales Throwing Things at Australians team secured custody of the burned sticks for another spell, and I got to watch the Ospreys spank the Scarlets back west so hard, what was left of them probably washed up on the Wexford coast. As we always say in these parts, it's not really Christmas until you've stuffed the Turks.

It's shaping into a highly satisfying Winterval, and it's not over yet. Middle-age ain't so bad.

Demo 2010: An Open Letter In Both Directions

TO THE RIGHT:

STOP characterising the demo violence as an organised anarchist assault on public order. The troublemakers are a small minority, and you know it. The same types turn up to any public demonstration against the establishment, they always will, and you can't use them as an excuse to stop peaceful protest. So stop trying.

STOP jumping to knee-jerk defences of transparently excessive police tactics, like the outrageous intimidation tactic of “kettling” in sub-zero temperatures, or the use of mounted baton charges against unarmed kids. Yes, policing these protests is a bloody difficult job, but you do the Met no favours by leaping to their defence quicker than they do. Oh, and Mr. Plod? The next time you're reaching out to topple some kid out of his wheelchair, you might just want to ask yourself; what could I possibly let him get away with that would look worse than this?

STOP calling for draconian punishments for “rioters” from the comfort of your armchairs. You probably still haven't noticed, but this kind of pathetically faux machismo simply drives down the consensus as to the probable size of your penis.

TO THE LEFT:

STOP pretending that this is about Tuition Fees, an issue on which the NUS and the Coalition Government are about as ideologically conflicted as Ant & Dec. It's an ideological reaction to the very notion of Conservative government, and its root are far wider. Which is perfectly fine – just so long as you admit it.

STOP fuelling the narrative of “Betrayal” by the Lib Dems, who are unable to enact their policy by virtue of (read this next bit carefully) losing the election. Yes, coalition politics is a bit new, and it may seem counter-intuitive that a party in government may lack both a mandate for its promises, and the responsibility to enact them. Boo Hoo. Get used to it. Anyway, even fewer students voted Lib Dem than in the electorate as a whole; and that was bugger all. Doesn't an election “pledge” kind-of carry with it the implicit notion that those you are pledging to will actually vote for you? So, who “betrayed” whom first?

STOP using the tired Thatcher-era language of class war, as if the last thirteen years never happened. When the Government first launched its attack on “benefit scroungers” while ignoring billions in tax fraud, there was an echoing silence from over there. When the Government first let the banks off the hook while planning swingeing spending cuts..? Hmm, still barely a grumble. The single defining difference between then and now, is that “The Government” are now (mostly) from the blue team. Your embittered, righteous fury is actually pure, cynical political opportunism, and shame on you for it. An illegal foreign war that kills thousands; a crusade against the common liberties of ordinary citizens; collusion in torture for fuck's sake; all these things could be allowed to stand, but a modest re-adjustment of Higher Education finance is the cue to unleash Hell? Bollocks.

Now, both of you – go home, calm down, and grow the fuck up.

Secret Messages

So... WikiLeaks, then.

Like a million other, cleverer observers, I find my responses genuinely conflicted. In saying that, I do not imply some 50:50 fence occupation strategy; I am firmly towards the “Freedom of Information” side of the equation. But that doesn't blind me to some simple, pragmatic realities.

Foremost of which is that no human relationship - whether it be in a marriage, between tennis partners, or between national governments and international organisations – can possibly function in an atmosphere of 100% disclosure. During the relentless assault on western civil liberties that has occurred in the last ten years, Establishment voices have been keen to use variations on the mantra, “If you've nothing to hide, you've nothing to fear”. Now, the poverty of that argument stares them coldly in the face. EVERYONE has something to hide; it's how we function in societies. If we knew about others all the little things we find shameful in ourselves, we would all retreat to the caves and eat spiders.

So, if we are to engage in international diplomacy – and even the most reclusive regimes have yet to find a way of avoiding that entirely – then of course it must remain just as possible for two high-ranking officials to have a private conversation, as it is for a co-habiting couple to have a quiet word over the cornflakes.

We deplore the instinct to cover-up when battles go badly, or when soldiers behave in reprehensible ways. But it is those same mechanisms of obfuscation that allow terrorist cells to be infiltrated and destroyed, or hostages to be rescued. If we accept that military operations are sometimes necessary, then military secrecy must be an allowable concept.

Julian Assange has some good points to make, though, when he talks about the mechanisms of conspiracy, and his agenda to erode them. He takes pains to differentiate his notion of “conspiracy” – an emergent behaviour arising naturally from power structures – from the “Big C” notion of moustache-twirling super-villains. His position is undoubtedly extreme, but it can be argued (by which I mean, I have) that extremists are sometimes useful where there is imbalance.

I believe it is clear that the balance between diplomatic utility and military security on one side, and public accountability and civic enfranchisement on the other, is severely out of alignment in the western democracies. As such, I'm excited by the possibility of effecting a shift. And in those limited terms, I support what WikiLeaks is doing.

Clavicle Error

Well, most of that gap can be explained by this;

...which now looks considerably prettier, overlaid with what looks like a mini suspension-bridge. It's been a successful upgrade and Oscar Goldman has expressed satisfaction with my progress towards "better, stronger, faster". Rob 2.0 came out of the sling for good (?) last week and returning to normal now. What can I tell you? Too fast, new brakes, potholes. The law of conservation of momentum. Tarmac. It's an age-old story, to which I have little new to add.

Anyway, recovered enough now to get out on stage again at the weekend, as The Shoeshine continued its sporadic tour of Western Britain in the village of Machen, near Chepstow. A goodly crowd pitched up at the rather well-specced village hall, gave us a fine reception, laughed at some lines even we didn't think were jokes, and rewarded us with some excellent cheese. Don't think that could've gone better? With two or three possible dates lined up for the new year, there's no sign of us stopping soon.

Otherwise, I have some film work lined up for the next few weeks - including a speaking part! -which should provide material for continued bloggage at less geological intervals. That's the plan, anyway...

Sex, Drugs, and... Shoes.

Just about to depart for Bridgnorth, in the depths of Shropshire, where this weekend I shall tread the boards once more as Geoffrey in "The Shoeshine". Also about waist-deep in preparations for SLT's "The Canterbury Tales", enscribulated by my esteemed colleague Brian Willis. In that one, I'm a sex pest, and later a drug dealer... Then there's "Valjean" by Acting On It, which I'll be co-narrating and god knows what else. "The Shoeshine" comes back to Swansea's Dylan Thomas Centre in July.

Got all that?

Sometimes, A Fence Is Just A Cigar. Or Something.

Psychonomy writes about the BCA/Singh affair. As ever, he dons the robes of Devil's Advocate and kicks against the tide in his effort to see the balance in all things. As ever, he's got a point. As ever, I disagree with him. :-)

I think the case is mainly about two things:

1. Whether I can safely call a spade a spade, and whether I can go on to say that claims of its efficacy at - say - sinking battlecruisers are disingenuous, without worrying about whether I can actually prove that the owner of said garden implement knows it not to be a submarine.
2. Whether large organisations should continue to get away with stifling criticism by bankrupting critics in the courts of the 14th Century.

The more important point (2) has yet to be decided, of course.

BCA's fault was in "allowing" (ha!) the development of a public impression that chiropractic could cure a rainy day. Singh's fault was in failing to sufficiently fudge an "unproveable" assertion that was, nonetheless, palpably true to any disinterested observer.

Both faults contribute - disproportionately - to public confusion about a serious issue. Only one of them risks public health. Reckless misrepresentation for gain, compounded by cynical misuse of outdated law to destroy dissent - versus (arguably) "sloppy journalism". Does that really call for "a plague on both your houses"?

Yes, it's in some sense admirable to see the balance in any cause célebre. It's a natural instinct against the wisdom of crowds; that 50,000 Twitterrers can't be right. I get that. But you've got to be squinting pretty hard to find the shades of grey in this one.

Californicated

Oh yes, there was that little trip to San Francisco. Forgot to blog about that. Hardly worth mentioning, was it? [thud] [thud]

We were only there for five days; enough to see all the famous bits but not to go in depth, or to venture out to greater California. The bay itself is as impressive as you'd expect, and yes, there are lots of trams (sorry, streetcars) going up and down lots of hills. But otherwise, the popular image of Fr'isco - as least as I understood it - was fairly absent from what we experienced. Hippy culture? Virtually invisible. Arts scene? Present and correct, but hardly superior to any major western city. Homosexuals? :-) Well, my gaydar might not be the sharpest tool in the box, but I'm sure I've seen gayer-looking villages in the Cotswolds.

Certainly the city's best-kept secret, however, is its homelessness problem. Certain areas of downtown feel like the Third World, and I was certainly more comfortable - and less ashamed of my comfort - on the streets of Havana. Not good.

If there was a theme to my experience of the atmosphere of SF, it was "faded glory" - lovely when chilling in the quiet, architecurally eclectic uphill neighbourhoods, but rather grim when faced with the more prosaic civic decay near the waterfront. She's a sadder, wiser city than the one we know from the clichés. I only wish we'd had more time to get to know her better.

Mythbuskers

I'd like to know how many people in the UK read this;

http://www.express.co.uk/ourpaper/view/2010-02-26

as against how many read this;

http://www.nasa.gov/topics/earth/features/coldweather-2009.html

On second thought, perhaps it's better that I merely imagine the numbers.

It must be conceded that the Daily Express has hit a rich vein of form in its quest for the ultimately disingenuous headline. In that spirit, might I suggest a topic they seem to have missed? Just for fun, of course.

"AGEING" MYTH EXPOSED BY MAN, 95

A 95-yr-old man awoke this morning at 7.45am and promptly pronounced himself to be "feeling absolutely marvellous".

In yet another slap in the face for the ageing lobby, Mr. Alan Young, of Runcorn, Cheshire, told The Express "I've never felt better. I feel like I could go on forever!"

Boffins at Runcorn FE College, however, continue to maintain that, whatever evidence to the contrary, people get "older" with the passage of time, gradually losing their physical and mental abilities until they ultimately "die".

"Do I look like I'm dying?" asked Mr. Young today. "I sometimes wish these 'scientists' would come out of their ivory towers and just take a look at the world around them."

Shining Again

Yesterday the Shoeshine crew paid our first visit to Bridgnorth's Theatre on the Steps, where we will be performing in May. It's an fascinating little place, very intimate and full of 'character'; which is to say that it desperately needs the refurbishment that will begin almost the moment we leave the stage. It's a radically different space to the Dylan Thomas Centre stage, and we're hoping it will allow us to develop the piece in new ways.

The town itself is lovely, too; built on, and partly into, a cliff face on the banks of the Severn, with lovely views across to the other side. Lots of intriguing nooks and crannies. My camera kit will be accompanying me next time.

Ho3

Our first Xmas in the new house; miraculously, we got a kitchen with a few days to spare, so I'm sitting in it typing while the mince pies cool. Then there will be ham. And hopefully a postman. Won't be cooking him, of course - although if he takes much longer, someone's going to get a roasting. Aren't there supposed to be extra elves or something?

It's hard to avoid envy over the snow in other parts. Of course, people are now moaning about the travel chaos; we're never happy. Anyway, cloud and rain is far more nostalgic, I suppose. This Child's Christmas in Wales was always a soggy affair. Still, I'll have half an eye on Twitter for the #uksnow tag, and try to enjoy the excitement vicariously.

Whoever and wherever you are; enjoy!

George & Ira Gushing

Once again the Taliesin theare came up trumps last night, with a screening of "An American in Paris". Unfortunately, the print was truly dreadful; scratched to buggery and with jumps galore. The sound was fine, though.

It's a bit embarrassing to admit I'd never seen this. I know most of the songs of course, but somehow the show has eluded me. More fool me. For the first hour-and-a-half, at least, "An American In Paris" is the perfect kind of feelgood flick. The kind that makes you perversely long for it to be over, so that you can get outside with your friends to talk about how great it was. Meanwhile, immerse yourself in the mood, because if you didn't check your cynicism in at the door, it's going to get a good kicking.

Like so many musicals, however, it slightly overstays its welcome. A bedazzling (if not always technically perfect) balletic cutaway at the climax is fine in itself, but unfortunately it entirley replaces the last act of the plot. Thus, instead of the intended romantic payoff, the final scene is left dangling as an unsatisfying non-sequitur. Shame.

A good night out, all the same. Exhilarating, inspiring, and cheering. The walk home across the iced-over park? Hmmm... less so.

Shining #2

Lawks, I don't even write when something actually happens, do I? Berk!

"The Shoeshine" appears to have been a success; a full house, ample amounts of goodwill, just the right level of constructive critical feedback, and the improved possibility of further performances. The sandwiches weren't bad, either.

Actually getting laughs onstage was a new experience for me, as this is the first thing I've done that is even mildly comical. It certainly gets the juices flowing, and is also a fine test of discipline; the temptation to play up to the laughs is enormous. I hope I managed it adequately.

And so to Christmas...

Shining

24 hours to go until I next tread the boards, and this time there are no excuses. In my fledgling acting career this is probably the smallest stage role I've yet had, and yet by far the most preparation I've been through. Yesterday's full dress rehearsal of "The Shoeshine" went extremely well, and a decent audience turned up to encourage us. Thanks, guys.

With Friday now sold out and a second venue expressing interest, writer/producer Richard Lloyd is now talking about sequels, including my character. Exciting times.

Press PLAY On Tape

BBC4's Micro Men was an enjoyable poke-around in the Retro attic; but a few authorial decisions left the guilty aftertaste of "infotainment".

By far the most worrying was the characterization of Clive Sinclair. Alexander Armstrong seems reckless casting for such a role, as there was so much scope for his own character to swamp the part. Sinclair was duly portrayed as a joke figure; a pompous, squawking demagogue with a tenuous grasp on reality, given to bouts of sheer weirdness that terrify underlings, and alienate friends and colleagues. In contrast, Martin Freeman's Chris Curry was the quiet everyman, very much the victim of Sinclair's worst excesses.

From what is known about the real Sinclair, the character doesn't seem inaccurate so much as wildly exagerrated, and mostly for comic effect. There were some clumsy set-up gags that interrupted the story, and when Armstrong started to wind up the engine, he came across as a kind of poor man's Davros; an impression reinforced by the overused image of him maraduing about Cambridge in his C5 electric cycle. For a piece that was ostensibly in admiration of his achievements, this seemed more than a little disingenuous; Sinclair was always an easy target for ridicule, and the C5 is the most obvious, laziest possible way to do it.

There were some fine touches though, such as the lovely image of Curry's Acorn crew eating Chinese takeaways using laboratory tools as chopsticks. The use of archive news and documentary footage was creative and charming, and overall there was an upbeat reverence to the pioneering spirit that justified the exercise.

The closing metaphor, unsubtle as it was, nonetheless amused. Driving his C5 down a "road" (that was, painfully obviously, a disused runway - perhaps a deliberate riff on 80's TV?) Sinclair was suddenly passed by huge lorries, bearing the logos of Hewlett Packard and Microsoft. Once again the show had veered closer to sketch comedy than drama, but this time, it worked.

Carry The Card

It was a day of cookies, ewoks, and bodysnatching.

Only the latter is worth reportage, methinx. The ever-excellent Fluellen Theatre had a rare outing in The Grand's main auditorium, with an adaptation of Dylan's "The Doctor & The Devils". It concerns the "resurrectionists" of 19th Century Edinburgh, and the moral dilemmas faced by both them, and their academic patrons. It's about how we draw lines, and then turn them into smudges. How Principle can become Dogma, and how Dogma can subvert Principle.

As my colleagues Julie-Anne & Steven Grey were in the cast and crew, I'm no longer an entirely disinterested party in Fluellen's affairs. So I'll just say that it was tremendous fun, though-provoking, and very imaginatively staged, and if you get the chance to see it on its short tour, you won't be disappointed.

No, really, you don't want to know about the ewoks.

Not in Bristol

I'm not in Bristol today.

This makes me special.

Bloomin' Article

It vexes me much when folks refer to bands improper-like.

Take those moody coves from my manor, The Manic Street Preachers. Now, let's think for a moment about what their name means. They are likening themselves to preachers, who practice their vocation on the street, in a fashion characterized as "manic". They are, thus, "Manic Street Preachers". There is no such place, either in the real world or the imagination of Nicky Wire, as "Manic Street", and thus no-one is known or even believed to preach there. There are no "Manic Street Preachers".

Manic, Street Preachers. Say it to yourself a few times. It will be like a cloud lifting from your mind.

While we're at it, check out Eagles. They are also a band. They liken their spirits to birds of prey circling in the dry, clear skies of their homeland. They do not, however, profess themselves, as individuals, to be birds. They have never been "The Eagles". They are just a band, called Eagles.

To my dismay, I note that "The" Bangles have recently given in on this issue. Darn it. Their proper name conjured a pile of cheap sparkly jewelry, lying piled in a box or strewn on an unmade bed, awaiting selection by a girl (or boy) off on a hot night out. It's a great name for a band. But Susannah Hoffs is not "a Bangle" - that's just plain silly. One can understand the symbolism of four Beatles, three Thompson Twins or two Krankies; but four Bangles? That's just like the contents of a Royal Wedding mug at your local car boot sale.

None of my old albums say "The Bangles" on them. So there.

Filler

I'm baking a rhubarb, apple and ginger crumble and editing photographs of my niece-and-nephew-in-law.

It's not exciting, but it's my life.

Excellent Bottom

We don't get that much Shakespeare out here in the colonies. So, when some comes along, it's best not to be too picky. I've never been a fan of A Midsummer Night's Dream, but in the spirit of supporting local(ish) theatre, on Thursday night H&I accompanied some friends to watch Black Rat Productions blow us away with the fairies.

Boy, were we glad we made the effort. Breathlessly physical, joyous, sexy and bloody funny - I never knew there was so much in it! Whether entwining their bodies to the rhythms of the text, convincingly punching each other's lights out, or nibbling cheese sandwiches with impeccable comic timing; they couldn't put a foot wrong.

My only regret? It was the last night, so I couldn't tell everyone I know to go see it. But in case you have a time machine; Thursday 2nd July 2009, Grand Theatre Arts Wing, Swansea. You'll be glad you did, even though you... er... didn't.

Mass Murderer Spares Child! (Again!)

Teen Survivor Of Comoros Crash A "True Miracle"

In the latest killing spree by the global terrorist known only by the nickname "God", 152 people were pointlessly and brutally murdered today, as their Airbus 310 aircraft was dashed into the sea on a spiteful whim of His Unseen Hand.

The single survivor - a teenage girl - is left to ponder the "miracle" of being deprived of her mother at a vulnerable age, while family of other victims are openly thankful to "God" for dispatching their loved ones relatively quickly. Authorities put the chances of bringing this capricious psychopath to justice at slim to none.

"God" was unavailable for comment. Again.

Getting Hitched

Ah, the silver screen...

Last night was a rare chance to experience cinema as my grandparents did, and I can only envy them. Hitchcock's Notorious (1946) is a movie I'm quite familiar with, but watching it "full-size" feels like seeing it for the first time. Swansea's Taliesin Theatre was encouragingly full, too, although the age range of attendees was skewed a little too far towards the movie's original release date for comfort!

Ingrid Bergman is sensational in this flick, where she is given a far wider range to explore than in some of her other roles. The love scenes with Grant could strip wallpaper, and some of her close-ups suck at one's soul like blotting paper. Cary Grant is in cruise control here, but then effortlessness is his hallmark; and Claude Rains makes a great baddie, flawed and sympathetic, yet ultimately evil.

One thing I've always loved about Hitchcock movies is his trick for deriving tension from the most unlikely and mundane situations. Notorious contains perhaps the best example of this art; we suffer a full five minutes of knuckle-munching unease on account of.... the champagne slowly running out! The murmurs of delighted apprehension from the audience proved that this simple magic hasn't worn off after 63 years. Stepping out of the theatre, I felt the need to take Hev by the arm, pull up my collar, and could only wish I had brought my hat...

Capital

Money.

Real, actual money.

One fewer houses, several more pounds.

The 15-month process may have seen off the very last of my youthful energy... but it's actually over. And so, then, is my latest residency in the city of my birth. The Cardiff that I leave is utterly unrecognizable from the city I moved to in 1999, almost entirely in good ways.

But I don't expect thanks...

Work In Progress...

Indy: Matthew Norman

Why shouldn't we have a written constitution?

Because the harm that Political Scripture does to free debate is plainly evident from the USA. The principles may seem enlightened on paper, but all they actually seem to achieve is to allow great chunks of genuine political discourse to be walled off as 'unconstitutional'.

To presume that our generation has reached some political Rubicon does a pernicious disservice to those to follow. Beyond the tenets of International Law, everything should be open to question, even where the most basic consensus exists. If we codify the mores of early 20th-Century society into a gospel for the future, surely we politically hamstring the generations to come..?

The Derivatives Market

Why do pictures of the US president cost less than maps of the UK? | guardian.co.uk

An issue worth highlighting, I think.

I was trying to produce maps for local authority websites way back in the 1990s, when I first tripped over the fact that the Ordnance Survey - to all intents and purposes - owns a copyright on what Britain actually looks like.

They will protest about the costs of their research, or course - although the point about NASA will make them look a bit silly doing so. But more salient is that the White House photography is a product of artistic creativity, whereas OS maps - however well-designed - are merely representations of physical fact.

It's odd that the USA, of all places, should be giving us a lesson in the philosophy of intellectual property. But there it is.

If At 46,831st You Don't Succeed...

In my 41st year, I've finally found a version of "Pac-Man" that I can get to Level 5 on! I just knew there was one out there somewhere.

Yes, Atari 8-bit Paccers (for the XL/XE series computers, not the VCS consoles) has ghosts so hospitably stupid that I was able to get this screen up after only a few attempts; five fruits means five levels, wa-hey! In your face, lifelong ambition!

Next up; I need to find a piece of software so dumb it can lose to me at chess. It might just be necessary to write it myself, but for now I keep searching...

Police! Camera! Action!

The police must be policed - by politicians | Matthew Parris - Times Online

It's worrying, is it not, that a Tory is the one speaking sense on this issue? More worrying still, surely, the implicit notion that only a Tory can dare to say "The Tories Got It Wrong"?

Parris has always been a voice of comparative reason, of course. But his point about the culture of tabloid-enthralled deference to the Police at Westminster is well-made, and crucial. Someone needs to go on the offensive, and deal ruthlessly with the inevitable opportunist response.

Tony Blair famously said "We asked The Police what they needed, and gave it to them.", thus inadvertently admitting to breaking the habit of a political lifetime in pursuit of appeasement. With him gone, there's a new chance to re-define the relationship between Parliament and Police; and perhaps, in the process, give the electorate what they need...?

Still Waiting...

...on the house sale, which is agony. Do we get a new kitchen, bedroom, carpets, and media setup? Or are we back to gold coving, magnolia walls and Value Baked Beans for the next X years? This experience is not endearing me any more to bankers, who I'd have thought were fairly keen to make a few friends at the moment. Ho hum.

A year of moderate-to-heavy carkage has now seen off J.G. Ballard, an author with whom I've had a love/hate relationship, but he never bored me. Despite writing the same two novels about five times each, he did have plenty of ideas, a healthy cynicism and an easier reading style than many other "trippy" authors. We were better off with him.

Recommended Ballards: The Drought, High Rise, The Crystal World, Crash.

Nexus

Yesterday was magical.

Living in our new house that is actually close to some of our friends has been as liberating as we'd hoped. On this sunny Sunday, we entertained two separate sets of casual visitors; walked the beach and watched aerobatics over the bay; ate both breakfast and dinner out, and in company; and spent the evening carousing at a table for ten.

It's a whole new life, and I'm loving it.

A Little Harmless Faith

Another slight setback in the War On Bollocks;

Couple Given £4500 of Taxpayers' Money for Psychic Academy [Wales Online]

but more than made up for by this;

Crash Pilot Who Paused To Pray Is Convicted [Reuters]

Let's hope he prays for a shorter sentence, eh? If only we could find and prosecute all the people responsible for his religious instruction, too. That'd make those sixteen deaths really mean something.

Coming Back

There’s a warm mist lying over the bay. It diffuses the floodlights of St Helen’s into a soft, ambient glow, turning the whole sky silver. In the half-light of dusk, people are lighting fires on the beach, so that the crisp sea-salt air is warmed with woodsmoke. In the dunes, a couple kiss. At the shoreline, an old man walks a young dog. If you find the right spot on the coast road, all that can be heard is the tumble of surf, the yapping of the pup, and a distant, lonely foghorn.

And I remember why I loved this place, and why I may yet do so once again.

Settling; Like Snow Doesn't.

We are, of course, exhausted beyond all reason, but Hev & I are now installed at the new Swansea mansionette. We're 10 days into the biggest game of TETRIS of our lives, we're on level 129, and it's become a full-contact bloodsport. We're just starting to see carpet, so we're still motivated. Building a kitchen out of spare parts is proving challenging, but at least space is no longer an issue... for now.

We're already feeling the benefit of being in the middle of things, and having friends "just pop in", which hasn't happened to either of us for a decade. There's a couple of restaurants around the corner, three parks and three or four pubs within five minutes' walk, and our favourite late-night bar just in the next street. After Splott and Waun Wen, this feels like Beverley Hills.

If we've left you out of our update texts/e-mails, drop us a line for our new address, landline no. etc. Then perhaps you too can "just pop in"? That'd be grand.

The FUDmeister Speaks

David Blunkett: Those who pontificate about 'big brother Britain' miss the point

On the one hand, I suppose Mr. Blunkett should be given credit for having the front to write this piece in the first place. But what a bland and self-affirming load of twaddle it is, worthy of linking to only because it should be seen to be disbelieved.

Surely the highlight is this sentence;

"There is a misconception that the database for biometric passports and ID cards might be misused."

followed by precisely no qualification or argument of any kind? It's just a misconception, get it? Plain as the noses on our faces, really. Silly, silly us!

"The world has changed and those who threaten us are often ahead of the game."

They're still out there, you see; those who threaten us. The global WeH8UK brotherhood still holds monthly meetings in their secret volcano headquarters, stroking cats and feeding democracy campaigners to the pirhanas. It's a universal conspiracy against our way of life, not just a couple of nutters with hooks for hands. We're under constant attack; watched, tracked and hated by evil powers that we don't begin to comprehend. Never forget, brave citizens. Be afraid. BE VERY AFRAID.

I Can't Call Them ALL "Dave"!

I wonder if anyone has ever written a poem about cardboard boxes. I'll ask Google...

http://snipurl.com/cgaek

Hmmm, a few, but strictly amateur stuff and mostly... um... idiosyncratic, I think I'll say. Not that I'm particularly moved to verse by the things, it's just that there are an awful, awful lot of them in my life at present.

There's something about them that can seem comforting or depressing, depending on one's mood, I suspect. That brutal, efficient reduction of a well-rounded life into a matrix of stubbornly square holes; is it liberating, or suffocating? I suppose - to those to whom tidiness and order are ways of life, rather than abstract concepts - mostly the former. I'm trying to see it that way, and partially succeeding.

I suppose I just want it on record that it's an effort, okay?

Back in Jack

Hmm, yes... there were supposed to be house-related updates. Bum.

Okay, so here's the gen. Hev's place is sold, gone, and we move into the new place, in Uplands, together, in the first week of March. All who merit a personal update will get one by some means or other. My place didn't sell, still trying, will probably have to rent.

So a ten-year residence in Cardiff draws to a close, though I'll only be down the road, really. The chance to be nearer to people that I care about is really exciting. There will even be parks to go for walks in, and stuff.

As you can tell I'm not too comfortable with this mundanity-bulletin stuff. I'll try to find something actually interesting to write soon.

In Case You Missed The One Thousand Words...

TASCHEN Books: Photo Icons I

I picked up both volumes of this neat little tome for £3 each, from a popular high-street retailer with a canine audiophile for a logo.

I can't recommend them highly enough. Just about every photo you'd think of, plus loads more besides. But the byline is "The Story Behind The Pictures", and boy do they deliver. Instead of just a few paragraphs of anodyne editorial, each photographer gets a whole essay, packed with enough references to keep you Googling for weeks.

Brain-food of Michelin Star quality, at Middlesborough Spar prices. So cheap you can even buy an extra copy and cut out the pictures... if so inclined.

Everybody Lives!

Plane downed by birds in NY's Hudson river, all safe | U.S. | Reuters

Steven Moffat doesn't write plane crashes.

But if he did, he'd probably write the best plane crashes in the world.

You Saved 1968...

Fair enough of the beeb to mark the 40th anniversary of Bill Anders' Earthrise photographs. The most well-known one is one of two NASA images that I would argue belong in any "Best of the 20th Century" collection; Armstrong's snap of Aldrin being the other.

It was a tough Christmas for many, after a tough year. It was also my first. This moment made a lot of it worthwhile, so I urge you to make it a part of your Christmas iconography, if it isn't there already.

Vatican't

Message for the celebration of the World Day of Peace 2009

His Arse-Holiness is at it again.

This year's euphemism for universal bigotry is "Human Ecology". Put simply, where I put my dick is - according to Benny - just as important as where I put my old newspapers.

It appears that, when it comes to literal interpretation of scripture, the rules are still fuzzy. Leviticus is still a touchstone for Herr Kommandant, but "Goodwill To All Men" is more of a guideline, it seems.

Prick.

3,262,827 to 1 against, and falling...

And as the Technicolor pharmacological cocktail that was my weekend fades to a faintly fuzzy Christmas Week, it's time to reflect on jobs well done.

It still looks as if the house sale will actually go through. I feel a bit like Scarlett Johansson, winning the lottery and going away to live on The Island (Michael Bay movies make a reasonable substitute for sleep while in a hospital bed); the Internet got the Christmas shopping done, with minimal coaxing, even managing to engage genuinely helpful humans in the process; and the foreign body to which I was playing host has been neutralized and removed, without recourse to anything resembling a "John Hurt Moment".

So far at least, nothing is becoming 2008 so much as the leaving of it.

Christmas on the Slab

Just about to leave for University Hospital, Wales; aka Stradling's Retreat. Got a date with a long prehensile instrument, rather like that thing that menaces Ann Robinson (no, the other one) in War of the Worlds. Fortunately for Ann, she didn't posess the undignified means of entry that mine will be using; thus completing my personal score-card of intimate invasions in the process, you'll be enchanted to learn.

If successful, I will be lighter by one small mineral body. Small it may be, but it's been punching way above its weight. Time to part company. Then it's a few days in Painkiller Oz, in which I currently plan to spiritually attend three birthday parties, and counting.

In other news;

SOLD THE HOUSE!!!

That is, accepted an offer yesterday and legal gnomes have commenced scampering. All jolly exciting. Small matter of having no-where to live until Hev repeats the feat not yet dampening my spirits...

Okay nurse, I'm ready...

...and I feel fine!

Gallery: The Best Fictional Doomsday Devices

Great idea, questionable execution.

No DOD?

No Solarbonite?

No Vogon Constructor Fleet??

No Illudium Q36 Explosive Space Modulator???!!!

Some might question whether the boys @ Wired are truly committed to this all - life - in - the - universe - stopping - instantaneously - and - all - the - molecules - in - your - body - exploding - at - the - speed - of - light schtick.

Oops... there goes another one. Feel free to join in!

Caveat Elector

As the champagne flattens, some sobering thoughts on "Obamania":

• Let's hope this is the beginning of the end of Race as a political issue in the West; because it certainly isn't the end. A black president is a big deal - but this mustn't be seen as somehow getting Redneck culture "off the hook", or as fulfilling some notional "quota" (i.e. "Black has had its turn"). History has been made, for sure - but the true end will only have come when there's no history left to be made.
  

• As I alluded to previously, Americans are entitled to ask if we in Europe could elect a black man. We probably couldn't. But then, I think we stand a far better - though still rather slim - chance of promoting a homosexual, a bachelor, or an atheist to supreme executive power. We've already put women there. The truth is, we've all still got a long way to go.

• Quietly, in California on Tuesday, throngs of black voters were marking the occasion - by overwhelmingly voting against Gay Marriage. This blogger needfully notes that plenty of non-blacks did too; but omits that, even by his own figures, no other ethnic group supported "Proposition 8" so emphatically. It is hard to imagine a more bitter irony.

"Change" may be blossoming in the garden of democracy, but no-one has quite come out smelling of roses.

Funny Old World

It was easy, in recent weeks, to be cynical about the prospects for real "change" in the USA. Even if Obama won, it seemed, there were plenty of precedents for a seemingly revolutionary change to quickly fade into something not too unrecognizable from the status quo.

Those precedents may remain, but on the night, it was a lot harder to be so churlish. After John McCain's masterclass in defeat with dignity, Obama's studied and sober victory speech seemed to me to be his best yet. Even if my secular blood ran just a little cold at the catechism of "Yes We Can", nonetheless it became harder with each sentence to keep from nodding along.

Hard also to escape a sense of irony, that even Republicans are now able to look over at us in the Old World and say, "Could you do that?" Tonight, people all over the UK will be lighting fires and firing rockets in our own annual pyrotechnic celebration. How typically British - and how much more incongruous now - that we choose to celebrate the failure of a revolution. However disturbing and alien a place the USA has seemed recently, last night showed us the positive flipside of that alien nature - the willingness to embrace seismic change. I sincerely doubt that we could do that.

Even if the change we think we see, ultimately proves to be a naive dream - for today, at least, I envy Americans the chance to dream it.

Top Spots

Wildlife Photographer of the Year - Online gallery

How's this for some top snappage? Positively heroic, I'd say.

I'm not known as a great animal lover, but I think I know good lenswork when I see it. Explore the winners' gallery to see some truly amazing work. It's enough to make you yearn for the outdoors... maybe. A bit.

That Cold Exterior...

Cheney's heart returns to normal

Apparently there was a minor molten episode while watching "Bambi" with his grandchildren, but thankfully Dickie's ticker re-calcified after treatment.

Doner Card

BBC NEWS | Kebabs made as corpse lay nearby

Yes, yes... but what was in the kebabs? Surely someone must have at least asked?

There's you plot for the CSI: Wolverhampton pilot, right there.

15 nanoseconds

The BBC magazine liked Wednesday's effort;

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7659954.stm

but sitting where it is (scroll down to #50!), it's not obvious that I used Mr. Shea's favourite words, which was kind of the whole point. Still, any publicity etc. Cheers, Auntie.

I wonder if I'll get on spEak You're bRanes with that one?

Lexicographagy

BBC NEWS | Magazine | The man who reads dictionaries

I'm disposed to immediately feel dyspathy with a secretary like Shea, but after goving at his story for a while, I begin to hansardize. There's no point in being philodoxical just because an apparently mundane subject deeply happifies another. I may stroke my naiform chin skeptically at Shea's cachinnations, but if such things truly make him tripudiate, then who am I to find them pejorical?

Artypants

H and I paid a visit to the exhibition of Winifred Coombe Tennant 's art collection at the National Museum. Okay, that was obviously her idea, but I was less bored than I expected. I didn't even sneak off for a gaze at Monet's lilies, like I usually do.

Speaking of the great myopic frog, however, there was this little thing; a view of the inside of Rouen cathedral, whose exterior the lad done brilliant with. This is by some obscure French hack that Tennant took a shine too, and was commissioned to show the Madonna & Child (tiny smudge bottom right) that she had donated to the church. Nice to see what it looked like inside, though. Without having to go to Rouen, I mean.

Tennant's sister-in-law, Evelyn Myers, turns out to have been a decent photographer, and one portrait, of Adelaide Passingham (who she?), is particularly lovely. Sadly, my phone camera doesn't have a polarising filter, but you can see it slightly better here.

And then we went back to Swansea and got our arses kicked in the pub quiz. Despite having been there, I didn't know that Havana was in the West Indies. I thought that name applied only to the Lesser Antilles? But then, I though Jamaica was a Lesser Antilly, so basically it's back to Geography 101 for me.

I did know what year "Dr. No" was released, though... so hurrah!

EULA Hoops

Burned by Chrome | The Register

Just a heads-up that might make you think twice about uninstalling Firefox just yet...

I must admit, 24 hours in, Chrome was hardly oscillating my orbit anyways; looks like it'll stay that way for the foreseeable. Ho hum...

Do Not Collect £200

I don't just 'blog the bad stuff:

BBC NEWS | Man convicted over Shia flogging:

"He denied his actions were wrong, saying: 'This is a part of our religion.'"

If they need a volunteer to swallow the key, I'm there; on the strict condition that his cell is wallpapered with the works of Richard Dawkins and Salman Rushdie, and his cellmate is a jewish homosexual.

The only blot on an otherwise cheering tale, is that the CPS still felt the need to protest that this case "was not an attack upon the practices or ceremonies of Shia Muslims". Oh, quite right - I mean, who'd want to attack the practice of forcing children to wound themselves?

Apparently, western Shia community leaders do discourage the practice of zanjeer matam, particularly where children are involved. Taking the "mourning" to the stage of self-harm appears to have its origins in Pakistan. So long as every cleric proscribes it, then fine; but its pratice remains a legitimate and appropriate target for police "attack".

FTL possible... sort of.

Baylor University

An awful lot of Geordi-speak in there, but what it seems to boil down to is a multi-dimensional variant of the old Flat-Earther gag about aeroplanes.

Of course it's just my stunted planetlubber brain's fault, but I can't help feeling this is cheating. What happens if multiple spacecraft are rearranging the universe in mutally antagonistic ways? Who's reality wins? If I'm moving space around me, what about other vessels within that space doing likewise? The possibilities for autorectal implosion seem limitless.

Raspberry Beret

After a rather uncomfortable invasive procedure - and an associated sharp decrease in food intake - I have been feeling even weaker and achier than usual this week. For the first time in a while, I've been using my walking stick.

It's quite amazing the difference it makes. No, not to my ambulatory discomfort, though the improvement there is considerable; to my image. People hold doors open for me. Bus drivers wait for me to sit down. Gangs of hooded youths who last month were loitering menacingly, now part respectfully to let me pass. The sheer volume of respect is palpable. No fashion choice, no body shape, and no real-world achievement has ever afforded me such an improvement in street status.

Needless to say, the temptation to continue carrying the stick after I strictly need to, is now strong. I am always uncomfortable with, and suspicious of, melodrama... but I can't ignore the benefits I have seen, and I'm going to feel the loss if I surrender them.

Back to Old Kent Road

Sometimes, satire is redundant. Sometimes no comment, however dry, pithy or insightful, can do anything but diminish the power of the quoted words. I suspect that this is such a time.

War On Terror board game seized by police - Cambridge News:

"Kent police said they had confiscated the game because the balaclava 'could be used to conceal someone's identity or could be used in the course of a criminal act'."

Smidsy

There's been some netbuzz on account boffins reckon invisibilty may be a step closer. Plenty of fun with references, from H.G. Wells to David MacCallum and, of course, Kevin Bacon.

Obviously this research is driven by military goals, and thinking about it a bit, if this comes off, it'll be the first major new development in "asymmetric warfare". The armed forces of any major power you happen to meet will be spying on you from all over the electromagnetic spectrum; so being traditionally "invisible" is not going to be that much use against - for example - a squadron of Chinese helicopter gunships. However, when up against "irregulars", how handy might it be to be able to ambush small parties in open terrain? Or to get artillery up close to a mountain hideout before it's evacuated?

Of course, in reality, the invisibility cloak has been in use domestically for years. Just ask any urban cyclist, or anyone trying to get served in Wetherspoon's when there's a hen party in...

It Works

It may seem like the creation of a bored Mac junkie who's seen Minority Report too often, but I see a deeper significance in this intriguing Aurora concept video from Mozilla.

I'm always banging on about how, when we 30/40s were kids, transport was the cutting edge of tech, and seemed likely to remain so. Information Technology was new and exciting, but we just didn't know the half of it. Our young minds would have boggled that we'd seen our last moon landing, but would one day personally command more computing power than currently existed.

So that's how I see things like this today. I like it because it's aspirational and speculative, but in a direction relevant to the present. You can forget your jet pack - we're even retiring our supersonic airliners - but one day you'll have Deep Thought in an earring, and so will I, and we'll do magic with them. Who knows, maybe our information usage can evolve so far that there's just no new, or even uncommon knowledge left on Earth? Then we'll have to turn our gestalt thought-clouds loose on Outer Space once more; exploring vicariously, by remote sensing, as one giant non-hierarchical crew of a notional Argo; Metanauts, if you will.

And instead of a few crackly audio recordings of "The Eagle Has Landed." and "Houston, We've Had A Problem.", will the odysseys of the future be historicized in yottabytes of Twitter archives...?

Hitty Titty? Ping! Ping!

Germany hails 'bullet-proof bra'

A gem from the silly season, this one. German policewomen are to get special safety bras - though sadly the hack-hook "bullet-proof" is stretching the point... as it were. No mention of a danger of backfires on cold days, either...

I see re-makes of 70s hairspray ads as German crooks wonder, "Is she, or isn't she?" Obviously, the officer must respond with "D'ya feel lucky, punk?"

Of course, this is bound to stir up memories of killer Ursula Andress offing a mark with her norks back in the 60s. What a way to go...

Fuel Enough, And Time

NASA Confirms Liquid Lake On Saturn Moon

So, there's hydrocarbons in them there planets.

History tells us that the discovery of combustible fuel reserves in a territory, exponentially increases that territory's signature on the U.S. Government's radar. Might this be the shot in the arm that the space programme needs?

Expect imminent speculation about the Saturnian nuclear weapons programme, and new evidence linking Titan with 9/11.

Who'd have thought that Robert Heinlein's The Puppet Masters would prove so prophetic?

Watch out, Titanians... the Free Men are coming!

Greek Eek!

As if The Antikythera Mechanism wasn't already mysterious enough...

I hit the page linked above randomly via Stumbleupon, and scanned it briefly. It's from July 2007.

I shit ye not, no more than 60 seconds later, my RSS reader pinged with a new headline from the BBC.

I am now very, very spooked...

What About Us Grils?

Lesbos climax as lesbians lick Lesbians | The Register

Major kudos to The Reg for that headline; shows that even an open goal can still be tucked away with a flourish. Very good indeed. Gold star.

In other news: Steven Moffat has exploded.

A Right Jolly Old Elf

Karadzic 'worked as Santa Claus in Serb clinic'

Technorati Tags: karadic bosnia serbia santa beard criminal genocide disguise

'Hardly Any' War Crimes

BBC NEWS | Armed forces chief defends troops

'Air Chief Marshall Jock Stirrup told the BBC that "virtually all" of the "tens and tens of thousands" posted overseas had behaved "impeccably".

He conceded that this "has not been universally the case".'

Hurrah for our side! And what a comfort to those victims of abuse, to learn that their ordeal virtually didn't happen! How overjoyed must the family of Baha Mousa be, to find out that their son is virtually still alive? It's truly heartwarming stuff.

And okay, it's technically true that our troops might not be universally averse to touching up young boys; but at least when they do, we can rest assured that it's virtually harmless...

Reality Top-Up

Pope visits Australia (Reuters):

"After a refueling stop in Darwin..."

This passed without further comment in the Reuters report. Disappointing, perhaps, but in one way you have to admire the writer for resisting such a hilariously open goal!

Water on Canvas

What a stunning image this is. On first sight, my eye immediately imagines a classic oil painting of some heroic folly on a Napoleonic battlefield. But this is a photograph, taken this week in Jakarta, Indonesia, by a Reuters photographer. It shows student protesters being hosed with water-cannon.

Call me a neophilic philistine (or just call me 'Phyllis', if you prefer) but for me this knocks spots off "The Death of Wolfe" or "Scotland Forever". Journalism as Art, mateys. Bloody brilliant.

It's All MemeMemeMeme, Isn't It?

Nothing Tra La La?: Memes don’t work; pass it on

Apparently I turn into a pumpkin if I don't play ball. Okay, just so long as I don't have to send anything to Nigeria...

“To participate,” say the rules, “you grab any book, go to page 123, find the fifth sentence, and blog it. Then tag five people.”

...and it goes thusly;

"The audacity of his gesture had won hearts, and everyone considered the matter signed and sealed."
- Arturo Pérez-Reverte, "Captain Alatriste" p123

Duty done, I pass the flame on to:

• Steve Brittain
• Jo X
• Rob Harper
• Jess Ramthun
• Martyn Winters

The Mice Were Furious

H took me to see the Swansea Little Theatre's production of "Of Mice & Men" last night, as a coda to my birthday pampering. I'd never seen it on stage and was very impressed; particularly, I'm delighted to say, with my old mucker Brian Willis in the role of Candy. George and Lennie were also perfectly cast and both played the emotional arpeggios perfectly; and Rhian Matthews brought her own fan club, which must surely now grow.

Billion Dollar Prang

Video: Stealth Bomber Crashes (Wired.com)

Skip 2min in to witness the end of possibly aviation's most valuable no-claims bonus.

I suppose that's what's bound to eventually happen when you build an aircraft that can't actually fly. Hurrah for the pilots, staying with it to the last instant but getting out safely. At $1.4 billion-a-piece, though, for their sakes I hope the USAF doesn't operate a "you break it, you bought it" policy...

Nailed Us!

Just a-strollin' past the Old Library and caught an ad for Dan Green's Cardiff Characters photo & multimedia exhibition. I'm glad I did. His stuff captures the feel of "The 'Diff" perfectly, by focussing on individuals that everybody recognises; be they artists, street hawkers, or ubiquitous screw-loosers. 'Diffians can expect to spend a merry half-hour going "ooh" and "a-ha!" and "so that's his name!" The photography is very simple and unpretentious, using colour and depth creatively but not ponsing about at all. These are subjects many of which I've shot myself, but he's caught them with a professional eye.

There's also a short video film, using some of the characters and making music from the sounds of their lives. It drags you in. You can buy prints (ouch!) or postcards (hurrah!) but no book yet, although Dan admits "Everyone says I should!"

Sadly, this is too late to be an effective plug, as the exhibition closes tomorrow. But look out for the name Dan Green, and if he points a camera at you, smile...

Dan Green Photography

Under My Skin

Lots of new images coming in now from Phoenix. As I look at them, something dawns on me.

Any educated layman knows the score with Mars. We know that the atmosphere is thin, that there's no evidence of complex organic molecules, that the ground seems to lack basic nutrients. Moreover, we perceive - logically, at least - that the origin of life on Earth was a random and unlikely event, even in such a complex and fertile environment. The Anthropic Principle tells us - against our instincts but within grasp of our reason - that "surely we cannot be alone?" is a subjective fallacy.

Some observers, with more or less imagination than I, can look at the Phoenix images and say "Hmmm.... rocks." Try as I might , I can't. Something hard-coded in my being lies to me when I look at them. Something visceral and reflexive, that insists, against reason, that there is no such thing as "just rocks". Something that protests that, in a landscape so fundamentally familiar, surely to postulate the absence of all life is the extraordinary claim? And yes, the rationalist in me recoils in self-disgust.

But thankfully, reason allows me to turn this warped perspective back to my advantage, and thus to preserve the sense of wonder: While some see a disappointingly familiar, Earth-like desert, when they were secretly hoping for tangerine trees and marmalade skies - I can see an Earth-like desert, but with no life of any kind. How weirdly, wildly fantastical is that? Put that way, it's hard to imagine anything further outside the realm of Human experience. Pepperland teeming with hallucinoforms may be attractive to the imagination, but Nevada with nary a microbe? Wow; now that's something else!

Beige

The weather couldn't spoil this bank holiday weekend, where beige ruled. Despite an inevitable increase in overall beigeness, Indiana Jones proved a calendar-defying proficiency in excavating the mustard, delighting a whole generation with the affirmation that, our own depreciation notwithstanding, we still have a cool dad. I must confess, under normal circumstances the old Von Daniken tropes piss me off royally - but this is, after all, the franchise where I have already accepted Yahweh and Shiva's vengeful pyrotechnics and - albeit with clenched teeth - the Holy Bastard Grail. So, I confess, the goalposts are wider. Indy may have scuffed the shot a little, but it still ended up in the back of the net.

MARS, lest we forget, is also beige. After the actualization of that foreshadowed "Seven Minutes of Terror" for the intrepid übergeeks of Phoenix, we're getting fuzzy pictures of beige rocks again and it feels bloody marvellous. To put my admiration into transatlantic terms, "You guys rock", in any colour. Hurrah for Space!

Fuzzy Blotches

Gilbern Invader
Originally uploaded by Brainless Angel

This is about as good as it got, light-leak and all. It's a shot of the Gilbern Invader on display at the National Waterfront Museum.

So, the Ful-Vue works, and I've got a bunch of monochrome film to shoot now...

Boxing clever

Boxing clever
Originally uploaded by Brainless Angel

You can't get much for 50p these days... unless you like things like this. It's an Ensign Ful-Vue box camera, c1946. It's a TLR (twin lens reflex) design with a two-speed shutter (1/35 or Bulb) and that's yer lot. This baby wouldn't know a megapixel from a MiG-21.

I've successfully loaded it with some 120 roll film and will spend the rest of the week trying not to waste my 12 exposures...

The Dog's Bolognese

Flying Spaghetti Monster Lands Outside Tennessee Courthouse | Wired.com

I, for one, welcome our new noodley overlord!

One to file under "We Might Just Be Okay..." for darker moments to come.

Carrot Still Invisible...

Further to my moan last year, this year's Cardiff Bus price "revision" is another 8%. But then, I doubt that luxury items like bus travel are an inflationary indicator these days, eh? The table is full of things like iPods, which conveniently plummet year-on-year.

Together Alone

BBC NEWS | UK | PM 'stands by stance on cannabis'

He stands by his stance! The Prime Minister is beside himself!

Classic Auntie!

The Gentle Touchdown

JPL's pages for the Phoenix mission carry probably the most dramatic video ever made for a nerd infodump. Kudos to those involve for creating a genuine sense of the excitement, enthusiasm, and anxieties of performing multiple impossibilities before breakfast, as these guys do. If we're going to get kids wanting to be aerospace engineers, this is surely how to do it.

"Phoenix will hit the top of the Martian atmosphere at 5.7 kilometers per second (12,750 miles per hour). In the next seven minutes, it will use heat-shield friction, a parachute, then descent rockets to slow to about 2.4 meters per second (5.4 mph) before landing on three legs."

In case that all sounds too simple, it's got to be done with a 10 minute time-lag, due to all that infinitely irritating speed-of-light malarkey.

"By the time we even hear from the lander that EDL (Entry, Descent & Landing) has started, it'll already be over."

Bloody Hell, as they say in space. "7 Minutes of Terror" about covers it. This truly is Extreme Sport for geeks. If they can't get laid after pulling that off, there's no justice.

May 25th is now firmly in my diary. Please put it in yours.

He Won't Do THAT Again!

U.S. acknowledges navy warning shot killed Egyptian | Reuters

Chalk up another coup for the U.S. Department of Bending Over Backwards to Fuck it Up.

Seriously - how hard can it possibly be to deliberately miss a moving target? Still, bonus points for getting the message across; once thus "warned", I'll bet the re-offence rate is remarkably low.

One Track Mind

All a bit slow here, sorry. That's mostly because of the Six Nations;

http://web-ellion.blogspot.com/

which seems to be taking all my attention. I wonder why?

Specious Relationship

BBC NEWS | Politics | UK apology over rendition flights

We sanctioned torture, and we're not sorry.

We facilitated kidnap, and we're not sorry.

We lied about it, and we're not sorry.

We allowed ourselves to be lied to about it - oh, shit. Yeah, that's a bit off. Fair enough. Our bad. Oops.

Fearmonger

Fearmonger
Originally uploaded by Brainless Angel

On the streets of Cardiff for the Wales v Scotland rugby international.

Man, I feel so much safer!

This really is disgraceful fearmongering. What on Earth is the threat? And how are machine-pistols going to counter it? Is there a Taleban army coming down the M4? So, the only conclusion is that he's there to convince me to be scared.

GET STUFFED.

Hain in the Past

Jump/Push

Duh-duh dum, dum, dum,
Duh-dum dum doodle doo...

He's resigned "to clear [his] name". Nothing like leaving it late.

Hain's Resignatometer:

Resigning when it's first discovered that you failed to declare a £100,000 donation? - Way too early.
Resigning when this is blamed - by the Prime Minister, no less - on an "incompetence" over which you presided as a minister? - Still too early.
Resigning when it emerges that a transparently fraudulent "think tank" was used to obscure the money? - Er, nope; still a bit previous, that.
Resigning when the police finally get involved? - Yes! The perfect moment to create an impression of transparency and integrity! The man's a genius!

The Clip-Winged Messenger

That there is the far side of the planet Mercury - the one always pointed at the sun, that we don't get to see. Things like this don't make the front pages any more, of course, but in fact this is a pretty rare event these days - a genuine, honest-to-goodness piece of New Frontier. A place seen by human eyes for the first time. Those less disposed to be impressed will point out, understandably, that it's just another load of craters and dust. They have a point, but they're missing THE point. This is sense-of-wonder stuff. It's why kids want to become scientists. This picture should be posted on every school noticeboard in the civilized world, dammit!

I'm reminded of a conversation I once heard at a job club, when a quarry miner was asked what made his work special. After a short pause he said something like "when I chip away a piece of rock, I'm the first human being to ever see what's behind it." It was an image I've never forgotten, and it made me wish that there were more quarry miners in government. Here we are worrying about financial irregularities and the definition of "incompetence", while at the front of the class, weary teacher is desperately trying to grab our attention; "Look, children! Look! It's another planet, for Pete's sake!"

Hot Dog, Jumping Frog...

BBC NEWS | Politics | Hain under fire over think tank

You've gotta give credit for that headline; great meter. Hain under, fire over, think tank. A dancefloor hit beckons, methinx. To be played straight after "Another On Bites The Dust", with any luck.

Gunboat Diplomacy

Half A Miracle (But Hey, Who's Counting?)

BBC NEWS | World | Americas | US worker survives 47-storey fall

"If you are a believer in miracles, this would be one," Dr Philip Barie, a surgeon
at New York's Presbyterian Hospital.

Dr Barie seems strangely unwilling to add that believers in miracles should still plan on having at least two sons, just to be on the safe side.

Meanwhile, one hopes that the younger brother is lawyered-up in the celestial courtroom. After all - where there's blame, there's a claim, right?

Fizzy Pop!

Sky Anemone
Originally uploaded by Brainless Angel

...and there was much rejoicing!

The Sittingbourne Supremacy

We just got back from a blissful few days' doss with Chris and Jennie @ The Beauty of Bath. Since our last visit he has more wrinkles, and she has more dogs. We discovered Cranium, the Isle of Sheppy, and Strictly Come Duncing, the QI DVD game, whereat we kicked Alan Davies' sorry arse.

This afternoon I am in "turncoat scum" mode as I visit Liberty Stadium to cheer against my home town's team. Then it's all hands to the cocktail shakers, as H hosts Hogmanay for the Swansea select.

Lick Your Own Elbows for Xmas!

What a rich font of wisdom and guidance Christmas is. The Queen tell us to help the needy; the Archbishop of Canterbury urges us to protect the environment; while the Pope trumps the lot, praying for an end to violence. Between them, I'd say they had all human suffering covered. At this rate, there'll be nothing left to fix next year!

Inspired by these sanctimoniousfying feats of moralistic carpet bombing leadership, I humbly offer my own exhortation to my fellow man; let us all lick our own elbows! Christmas is, after all, a time of coming together, a time of love, a time of miracles - if we all nake that little bit more effort each day, we can say "goodbye" to dry elbows forever. Isn't that a gift worth wishing for?

The Old Firm Derby

Blair conversion bolsters Catholicism's lead | Reuters

A big "hurrah!" for the C Team, then - edging ahead of the competition in a tricky away fixture. Looks like the management's recent signings - one star right wing, and a couple of thousand Polish full-backs - have really had an effect. It's a whole new world!

Of course, I prefer to see the fact that only 1.8m out of a population of 60m+ (i.e. 3%) bother to watch the stupid game in the first place, as the truly heartening statistic here. It has possibly made my whole holiday^*, in fact!

* Sorry, couldn't resist!