Holiday

No nonsense from me, my dear three readers, for the next two weeks.

Pigs In Zen

Isn't this little piglet adorable?

Six-week-old Cinders suffers from mysophobia, a fear of dirt -- an unusual condition for a pig. But her owners found these booties fitted perfectly and now Cinders is as happy as a pig in ...

On An Island

I know the weather is glorious across old Blighty at the mo', but it is wont to change -- quickly and dramatically at that..

This below is the forecast for Kastellorizo, the idyllic little Greek island we're of to for a fortnight from Saturday.

Isn't it boring in its consistency?

And the ultimate horror -- I might just cheer-up for a week or two..

Tell It Like It Is

Today, P sent me a CV and cover letter application to her firm from a post-graduate student. She sent it [saw this and though of you] because the grad used that most horrid of platitudes -- innovative solutions -- in the letter.

And beyond the use of this pointless phrase, the rest of the letter was rendered near-illegible by its dense use of other such double-talk. How not to get a job -- offer your blessed innovative solutions and creative ideas and transpose your committment and ability at the union bar to the internship. (I'm being mean, I know..)

Anyway, I'm not immune to receipt of illiterate bollox in my own line of work and have just received this balderdash from an IT supplier's PR agency as a draft quote attibuted to one of my execs.

"Our customers rely on us to be ahead of the game so that they too stay one step ahead of the competition and can grab the bull by its horns."

Fair play. At the end of the day and when all's said and done, we are afterall, dedicated to enhancing the perfomance of.. ehem, matadors..

;-)

Sweet Thing

The dastardly concession-istas at Marylebone Station have installed a very, very large Haribo pick'n'mix stall. My staple diet is now Happy Cola chews.

I'm in gummy heaven, but feel nauseous, racked with self-loathing and fear for my few remaining teeth.

Thick As A Brick

More, ehem, wonder from those wonderful WAGs..
[Click on image for bigger view]

Speak To Me

I will SELF-HARM if I hear anyone gobbing on about Innovative Solutions ever, ever, ever again!

Catalyst: A radio interview this morning with a Hammersmith councillor discussing his borough's spiffing wheeze to open post offices in churches and libraries as counter to Royal Mail branch closures. These aren't his words per se, but you get the 'MBA-babble' point..

"This proposal is an innovative solution to a complex and challenging paradigm shift in our societal organisational structure. We've assembled a core team of key members to brainstorm strategies, scenario-plan, think outside the box and examine what will stick. Clearly there are synergies here that are win-win going forward and optimally leverage community assets while achieving significant economies of scale." Blah, blah, blah..

It's time we removed idiotic mid-Atlantic corporate double-talk from everyday life. It's bad enough having to live with the meaningless twaddle at work five days a week..

Plain English everyone, please.

I only want bandwidth from my broadband provider.

Idiot Wind

Stupid Celeb #1

Sharon Stone, bad Chinese karma and the utter f**k-witted arrogance of the C-list Hollywood liberal in need of a PR hit.

Poor cow lost the Dior fragrance contract as a consequence of stating that the 70,000 killed in the recent earthquake was karmic pay-back for China's treatment of Tibet..

The sheer bloody arrogance of the woman and the sheer bloody naivety of her statement!

Of course, no animals are ever harmed in the manufacture of cosmetics right? So while la legs-akimbo-slapper's bank balance takes a hit, her precious, bollock-headed karma is intact.

Durr..

Stupid Quazi-Celebs #2

Bloody hell, bank holidays just keep getting worse. A Monday when decent God-fearing folk set about making Arks, the rest of us retreated indoors with the heating on high and waited-out the deluge in front of the goggle. And what do we get for our sins? WAGs on The Weakest Link.

What a great idea, gather a load of self-obsessed cretins and ask them simple questions -- about something other than themselves, shoes, handbags and football players.

A modern variation on a visit to the asylum as the 18th century equivalent to a day at Alton Towers. Let's laugh at the loonies 21st century stylee..

Genius.

Ha. And Danielle Lloyd won!!

An example of this tremendously entertaining hogwash:

Q. Anne Robinson: What is the childhood game in which boys and girls dress up as hospital staff called? Doctors and what?

A: Charley Uchea (who??): Oh, oh my God.... Doctors and Wives!

Can this scourge of preening subhumans be exterminated in the interests of generations to come? It doesn't have to be humane, for fish I sense are more cognizant than this batch of plastic bimbos.

If not, then at the very least, can they be rounded-up and exacted to lab experiments? There must be something deeply intriguing to medical science for surely the missing link is there for all to see week-in, week-out in the pages of Heat, Grazia et al..

Love Is A Losing Game

OK. Chelsea lost. You don't score, you don't win.

All the agonising over JT sending Van der Sar the wrong way, but slipping and hoofing the ball high and right -- right to the outside edge of the post -- is past. I promise.

Well, nearly..

I'm still angry at Drogba for getting pointlessly sent off and not being available for penalty duty and Anekla's pathetically poor effort. (The odds are long on either of them being in the squad in August).

All-in-all, I've been feeling rather forlorn about the whole thing for the last four or five days. After all, it was far more painful than the previously famous English penalty farces of Pierce and Southgate. This time it was one lion on my shirt -- and one lion is far more precious (to me) than three.

But time is a healer and with nearly a week passed I'm getting over it (I am petri). Also the powers that be have moved quickly to rebuild. Grant is out -- no silverware, second in the Champions League, second in the Premiership and second in the Carling Cup -- doesn't cut it these days on the Fulham Road. A bit harsh I feel, but that's life with the oligarchs. And reportage in recent days of speculation and scramble for a replacement have at least wiped the sports pages of weasels in red jerseys.

Personally, I'm encouraged by revelations of a warming in Russian/Portuguese relations with news of The Special One's role as 'off-line' counsellor to team owner and key players in recent weeks. And the fact of Roman gifting the George Clooney of footie a rare Ferrari -- a snip at £2million -- isn't exactly indication of utter hatred and an intractable difference of opinion.

But reports are that Jose is near to signing with Internazionale. Don't do it!

So if he does, the list of contenders is enticing. Didier Deschamps, Frank Rijkaard, Luiz Felipe Scolari and erm, Sven-Goran Eriksson.

Scratch the Swede from the above list and bring in Gianfranco Zola as understudy and the season's disappointing under-performance (it's all relative ;-) might seem a success after all.

Carefree

Been A Long Time..

Now work, football and influenza madness have passed, as the honourable guvn'r used to say..

"I'll be back"

All Or Nothing (or Something..Maybe)

Two heroic performances at Stamford Bridge leave us equal on points at the top of the Premiership (behind on goal difference with two games to play) and in the Champion's League Final on 21 May.

A Carling Cup defeat to Tottingham and the FA Cup semi loss to Barnsley are distant memories, and given the current situation, meaningless piffles.

I knawed my way through the nails on my left hand as we beat ManUre on Saturday, and I chiselled away at nearly all on my right hand during last night's CL victory over Liverpool. I've saved a right thumbnail for Monday afternoon's away game at Newcastle and plan a programme of accelerated regrowth for a fortnight's time..

What now? Is an historic double in the offing? Can ManUre drop a point in the last two remaining Premiership games (West Ham and Wigan -- home and away respectively) and can we win both games? Moreover, if we both win both, can we narrow the GD by scoring >18 goals in two games -- on Tyneside and home to Bolton?

Tantalising..

And, given our owner's heritage, surely the CL final in Moscow gives Chelski a home advantage ;-)

I just love the brattish whinging of Fergie. Oh, and Rafa -- who let the Drogs Out? You did, dickhead.

Avram -- you're clearly a winner and certainly have more gravitas in your left earlobe than your 'Big 4' peers. My apologies for doubting.

Of course, we could only win one, or then again, we could win nothing. Either way, a -- literally -- nail biting spectacular and magnificent close to the season.

Carefree

Butthead

It's bad enough that a generation of be-thonged women parade brazenly around sporting the 'whale tail' effect over the top of their jeans.

But why is it that today's male yoof insist upon wearing their trews halfway down their arse as well?

In a parallel universe, M&S boxers must have pinnacled as the fashionista's ultimate accessory to warrent such ubiquitous public airings.

London (Still) Calling

All that stuff about houses, space in the country, fresh air and no crime -- well it's nice in theory, but we've decided that we can't drag ourselves away from London ..just yet.

There's just too much uncertainly in the money markets at the moment and why would we put ourselves under unnecessary professional and financial pressure? A move 90 miles from the city does present logistical challenges, threats and compromises. It's just not worth it.

Right now, we're comfortably ahead. We're professionally and financially secure and we have a lovely home with more than enough room for two adults and a medium-sized dog. Guest do have to bunk-up on a pull-out in the rear living room, but that's no real hardship for one or two nights..

Oh, and I know that I whine on about the incessant grime and fairly frequent crime, but we do have an awful lot of good things in old Stokie too.

For the time being -- at least -- we're staying put.

..And so the story, erm, stalls

Baby You Can Drive My Car

Watch out road users of England. P passed her driving test last week -- first time on both theory and practical no less!

And as of today she's insured to drive the Land Rover.

..So expect carnage on the streets of north London.

Ems and I are taking the bus ;-)

Up The Hill Backwards

It ain't easy, this technology thing. What should be simple, is in reality, akin to a great big nasty squabble of Machiavellian proportions.

I'm trying to move 50Gb of material from iTunes on an old iMac running OSX Panther to an HP g-wizz PC tablet thingie running Vista. The extremely sophisticated method of transfer is a 2Gb memory stick. It's kinda like filling a bath from a sink using a shot glass ..with a hole in the bottom.

Now I know Jobs and Gates don't speak. I fully expect Mac to PC and PC to Mac to be a holy war. Problem is, I do expect Jobs to talk to Jobs. Apple to Apple should be warm and very cosy.

Ain't necessarily so.

I'm moving the material -- only ALL of my music -- to the PC because my 14 month-old iPod up and died. And unfortunately, its £150 replacement doesn't like Panther so won't synch with the old gal. The nasty little silver critter, however, does get on with Vista.

So to rectify, I've spent a further £80 on the snazzy new Leopard OS upgrade. but that won't load to the old Mac. This is apparently a common problem (blue screen), but fixes gleaned from online forums really aren't easy ..actually, they're bloody unfathomable.

Seems the uppity little shit of an current gen iPod is a snob and won't talk to any Apple OS older than Tiger, but as mentioned, it will cosy-up to new Windows.

And the rub is that I don't even want to continue running the crappy Mac. I want it retired and then destroyed. But it houses the last four years of downloads and burns -- some legal, some otherwise -- and took a considerable time to compile and catalogue.

Oh, and I don't consider burns an infringement of DRM as I paid the record companies a small fortune for the CDs in the first place, so feel perfectly within my rights to change the format of what's mine.

Thank God I hadn't yet begun the even lengthier process of ripping from my 1,000+ vinyl collection!

Country House -- This Time, For Real

After months and months thinking and talking about moving -- and running down quite a few dead-ends -- our departure from Gotham is (hopefully) imminent.

With no additional mortgage burden, we're swapping this


..for this

If the stars are favourably aligned, we're hoping to move mid- end-May.

..And so the story (really) begins

Country House, Redux

We're in the throes of negotiating the purchase of a lovely house in an Oxfordshire village. Yay, we're actually doing something about the move instead of just tittering on about it incessantly and spending every free hour pouring over Internet house porn..

Given this, a brief misunderstanding this morning between me and P sent me off looking at the BBC's morning TV schedule.

I emailed P to inform her of a brief exchange of views with the selling agent.

She replied with the message "on TV today".

!!!

Because the house we're after has recently been photographed by the BBC for consideration for one of its myriad homes and interiors shows, I thought she meant it had been featured on today's edition of Moving To Somewhere In The Country, Home Makeover Of The Year, Pigsty To Palace or whatever..

And because I feared that a glossy BBC treatment of the place would weaken our negotiating position -- i.e., that the sellers would reject offers and demand heaps more money -- I scurried off to the listings to check.

Anyway, no crisis. P was referring to one of her clients being on the TV news, not the house.

Phew.

I am however, a bit gutted at having missed today's scintilating To Buy Or Not To Buy. From the today's listing:

The property series which gives couples a chance to try before they buy. Presenters Sarah and Simon help a couple from Cambridge find a house with a garden big enough for a donkey.

..Beats mowing the lawn, I guess.

(iP)e(o)ple That (D)ied

Scratch the previous post. The flickers of life are false. The iPod passed away on Friday. It's dead and there's no resuscitation.

We'll have a private family burial in the garden on Saturday -- by which time I'm hopeful it's replacement will have arrived. Moreover, I hope the new one lasts a wee bit longer than deadboy..

I do take back my criticisim of The Genius Bar though. A very nice medico tried hard, but in vain, to repair the beast today. ..And I didn't have to wait long either.

"Teddy sniffing glue he was 12 years old,
Fell from the roof on East two-nine.
Cathy was 11 when she pulled the plug
On 26 reds and a bottle of wine.
Bobby got leukemia, 14 years old --
He looked like 65 when he died,
He was a friend of mine."

Pretty Hate Machine

It'll be an Apple -- that's for sure.

Fourteen months into ownership of an 80Gb 'Classic', the pretty little white and silver music box has died.

It's an ex-iPod with a severely knackered hard drive. All it wants is to be 'restored', but it's circuits are fried and no-can-do.

Of course, this also means that the 12 month warrantee has ended now too. Doh!

The Apple Store on Regent Street has a great technical support facility where you can book online for personal time in-store with an expert fix-it dude. Steveo's bricks and mortar outlets brand this facility 'Genius Bar'. Personally, I think that's a tad ambitious and it would be better christened something more realistic like 'Waiting and Waiting and Waiting Bar'.

Online the experience is great. You book your 'window' just like Ocado -- today, 12:30. But in practice, like all things Apple, it's utter pants. With my name 8th in the queue and 50 minutes past my appointment, I gave up are returned to the office.

If the intention is to upsell loads of other non-essential peripherals to the terminally bored and pissed-off -- it failed.

Of course, I am now a bit adrift without my beloved iPod, so have re-booked for a new drive to be installed at 10:10 tomorrow (only a few minutes after opening) in the hope that there won't be a backlog of other, less deserving, customers ahead of me.

Of course, if the damn things weren't so buggy in the first place..

Grrr.

Licensed To Ill

Just when I'd become accustomed to my TV licence only funding about two hours of worthwhile entertainment a week -- currently, Ashes To Ashes and The Last Enemy (my fondness for Hotel Babylon is an aberration, I admit) -- the Beeb throws up something very special.

OK, the annual appearance of a new Poliakoff or two notwithstanding, quality drama output from the luvvies at Television Centre and White City can be very scarce indeed. Sorry guys, Lark Rise To Candleford just doesn’t count. Outfitting the cast in Edwardian costume and bolloxing around in a pastoral idyll doesn't make a drama and it certainly doesn't equate to quality. It's a period soap and not very good either. Move along..

But last night's White Girl was something else altogether. Part of the BBC's controversial 'White Season' and influenced, it seemed to me anyway, by gritty English dramatists a la Loach and Leigh, it examines the co-existence of white Christian and Asian Muslim working class in Bradford and how the 11 year-old Leah found balance, order and meaning in Islam in contrast to her negligent, destructive quasi-single parent white family.

Enough plot examination. If you saw it, you'll have a view. If not, then I urge you to catch it again on your TV provider's replay service or the BBC's wonderful iPlayer.

A welcome antidote to the standard 24 hours of meaningless crapola like Holby and In It To Win It.