Jah Jah Dub

Friday, May 27, 2005

Economics Friday - Ricardo’s Law of Comparative Advantage

Ricardo is better at hairdressing than Jeff Brazier. He is also better at reality television. If they both split their time equally between the two activities, Ricardo will create 10 excellent dos, and 5 great, shrieking television moments. Brazier will manage one shoddy wedge and two alright bits of television where he gets drunk and slides off a chair.

Let’s pretend that we can sum across the two activities and that Blogger can handle tables.

Ricardo and Jeff Brazier spending equal time on hairdressing and cutting hair:

-------------------------------------------Total: 18

Ricardo is better at both, but he is even better at cutting hair. If he spends all his time on that, and leaves Jeff Brazier to go on the next series of Celebrity Love Island, then total production for society will be higher - even though Ricardo would have been better on Celebrity Love Island.

Ricardo and Jeff Brazier spending all their time on what they're better at.

-------------------------------------------Total: 24

Society has the greatest gains when you do what you’re better at, not what you’re best at. To each according to his comparative advantage.

OK... I really wasn't going to watch Big Brother. Thought I might as well see them go into the house - I wasn't doing anything better.

I think it may have hooked me; they're all so dreadful.

Science seems alright. Hope he wins.

Don't worry, you fans of Economics Fridays, there'll be something along later.

It might be time for me to start a new blog.

So I went yesterday to see The Hitch and The Wheen. It was good.

Jeez. There was a time when I would have written loads about such an event. It was as I expected. I'm sorry: look, it's not you, I'm just tired. I don't mean to take it out on you - I just haven't had enough sleep this week. It was great, of course it was.


Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Football, eh? Bloody hell.


Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Phil Spector

I know it's a serious story, and a woman has died, but that does not make his hair any less funny.

Are these autobiographical reminiscences getting a bit much? I do apologise.

I was in a play when I was 11. You had to be 13 to be in the group, but Simon, this mysterious guy who groomed me for the Scouts, got me in. He left soon afterwards, leaving me confused in the middle of a twenty adolescents (girls... what?). The Gaia Conspiracy it was called. I've already checked it on Google: I can't find nothing. They'd taken care of casting before I joined, so I was First Guard. I don't know why I'm making excuses, I had the charisma of a young Charles Hawtrey, I was never going to be the lead. The last performance was at Worcester Arts Centre. Second Guard and I decided to play it Scottish (recognised by a post-play recruit: she specifically mentioned "the Scottish guys"). Those five lines had never been played so well. After that I mobbed with a couple of public school guys who were two years older and into Guns 'N Roses. I had never encountered anyone so crazy. They met some girls. They left. I did one soon afterwards.

There ends my dramatic career.

Jah Jah Dub - Diary Extract

That guy's here again. The Irish one who hangs around Piccadilly, always with the headphones, always with the holdall. The one who talks to people about God? He's not dressed as Austin Powers anymore. He's changed into a Nehru suit.

When I was 18, in Israel, we relied on sporadic deliveries of British magazines from family. Neil received the occasional Empire. Rapt, we learned the film news of ’97. A new light of Indie seemed to be breaking. Best film nominations: Secrets and Lies; The English Patient; Fargo; Shine; Jerry Maguire. We hadn’t heard of any of them. We caught as many as we could; taking the bus to Nazareth (8 shekels) was an outrageous extravagance. But we saw them, and the Star Wars films. We missed Fargo, it had been out in England for a while. For the rest, our favourite was probably The English Patient – it looked like A Good Film. Jerry Maguire we dismissed as “cheese”, despite Empire’s protestations that this was Tom Cruise acting at last. You know what? We were wrong. It was the best of that bunch.

Show me the money.


Monday, May 23, 2005

My Dad is going to be on Test the Nation this Saturday. Look out for him: he's on the Rocket Scientist team and looks like a cross between me and a guinea pig.

Why the EU's rubbish.

Why the new EU constitution is rubbish.

Why the Make Povery History campaign is rubbish.


Saturday, May 21, 2005

You’re poor at 13. You can’t even buy a sandwich: a tape from OurPrice is beyond any pocket not inflated by birthday money. We shared around. When I first gave a shit about the charts – when I first thought it meant more than a tune to hum – REM and U2 were the biggest bands in the world. Two tapes circulated around my class: Automatic for the People/Achtung Baby and Out of Time/Cosmic Thing. We all knew that shit. Apart from the tentatively recognised cool kids: they listened to S*M*A*S*H.

I’m listening to Achtung Baby again. I know, twice in ten years. This always reminds me of my cousins, the children of my mum’s nearest older sister. They’re about four to five years older than me. As soon as we could think Leila and I looked up to them. I didn’t buy any music until I was 15. Before that I would get copies from these cousins. An interesting batch: Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine; Tina Turner; INXS; Cher… Some good ones though: The Cure; Prince (though it took me some time to catch up with that one); Another. I can’t hear this album now without thinking of being in Matthew’s car, me rear seat and back: we’re all singing along.

It’s ok, Al. Time passes. That’s what happens. Don’t hold on to these moments. Let them go.

One of my favourite bands when I was seventeen was Sly and the Family Stone. Ed and I used to hang around after school, ostensibly to work but actually to chill and ill. We used to play music on the lower sixth’s tape player. I put What’s The Story Morning Glory on there the day it came out. Three people were interested.

So one day I had the greatest hits of Sly in my bag. In one of those previously mentioned moments of confidence that you lack as an adult, I stuck it on. It was accepted, more or less, it was not too far from Motown.

Though Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey didn’t go down too well.

Now I'm listening to Enter Sandman by Metallica. Marty's gone to bed. Why don't I just put the checked shirt on and be done with it? All that was ten years ago for fuck's sake.

Craig and Glen are twins. They were among the first friends I made in at sixth form, the new world of the Isle of Man. I bought their little brother's guitar from him. His name was Stu. It was a shit guitar; I had a little portable amp.

I was one of the shock-troops of Britpop. The only one reading the NME in the common room I had to choose my battles. The first "riffs" I learnt on the guitar were those of Metallica. I extended my repetoire with Beatles songs. I didn't get too much further. I still have the guitar though. Somewhere.

Nothing like a Friday night spent with a close male friend, playing computer games aimed at 14 year old girls and listening to The Offspring.

Immature? Excuse me?


Friday, May 20, 2005

My journey home from work was nicely full of stereotypes today.

I was offered drugs by eight young black men on my way from Brixton tube station to the bus stop (forty metres).

Then in the queue in front of me in the pet shop two lesbians were buying a cat.

You want to see the Hitch? Course you do.

Check it.

There’s this guy I bump into in the toilets at work sometimes (no euphemism). He’s always exiting a cubicle with his tie unashamedly tossed over his shoulder. He stays like that as he washes his hands then leaves. You’d have thought he would have come to a less ignominious arrangement by now.

Does anyone else watch The Farm? I haven’t heard anyone talk about it. Perhaps it’s piped into our house.

Every “celebrity” show now is better than the last. Having contestants we’ve seen somewhere before is becoming less of a novelty. Celebrity Big Brother was relatively tedious as the housemates were so acutely conscious that they were on television – that this was something we hadn’t seen before. People still talk about Jack Dee’s lame attempts to escape, events which wouldn’t even make the edit of shows now. They’ve allowed themselves to misbehave.

Lionel Blair is a quite remarkable character, possibly the most objectionable man I’ve encountered through reality television. He is self-important, quick-tempered, duplicitous and vicous. A great choice. Flava Flav is brilliant too. Oblivious to the conventions that govern eviction nominations he tore into Keith Harris, showboating in front of the others. “Say no more! Flav’s got the floor!”

They buried their beef with a hug.

(Flava Flav - third left)

(Keith Harris - in black jacket)

Footballers: Not paid enough

" exasperated Hill-Wood bemoaned the shift of power in football by revealing that the England left back had demanded three times his £27,000-a-week salary to commit to a new deal."

Well if he's not worth it, don't pay him it! No one's forcing you! Other children's entertainers are allowed to apply for other jobs - I don't see why footballers should be prohibited. If Cole provides £81,000 worth of value per week to Arsenal but they are only paying him £27,000, then they are getting £54,000 of Cole for free. If he's worth more to Chelsea or whoever then he should go there with increased wage. Workers should be paid the value of their labour or else it will cushion the mattresses of cigar-smoking bosses.

And I reckon Cheryl Tweedy's high maintenance*.

*She is also the future next Denise Van Outen: you heard it here first.


Thursday, May 19, 2005

I've just been watching the video for Gett Off.

Prince's sense of humour is underrated.

Am I supposed to hate The Streets?

I don't. Quite the opposite.


Wednesday, May 18, 2005

How much would I give for Bugs Bunny to massage my head with his nimble toes like he does to Elmer Fudd in the Rabbit of Seville?

That would be a peach.

As Daffy says,

"Brother, what a way to run a railroad."

Singstar: Popworld arrived today. Marilyn Manson's Personal Jesus wasn't working for me until I went for quasi-Bowie. Then it was a breeze.

NB: Dan Motherfucking Walters is in the house!


Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Here's Georgie!

Anyone watching this Senate Committee hoping for a Galloway outburst?

"The truth! You can't handle the truth!"

Me too.


Monday, May 16, 2005

Did you see it? You know I can't do all your reality watching for you, sometimes I'm in the pub - help me out and watch a few episodes.

It was disarmingly sweet, like a school trip: further evidence, as if more was needed, that celebrities are essentially juvenile.

Note: Callum Best is an evil dunderhead.

3:00.93 - British 4 x 400 Metres record set on 19/06/92 by:

Derek Redmond
Kris Akabusi
Duane Ladejo
Roger Black

A hell of a team: a filthy night in the pub.

Celebrity Love Island. Stop this manna, television, I am battered beneath it!

Just seen the video for the Mitchell Brothers' "Harvey Nics". Would I be jumping the gun in proclaiming them the band of the decade?

"Gordon Brown is deeply vulnerable to someone who can make the moral case for lower taxation and a smaller and less intrusive state; not because that would enrich a small section of society, but because it would also reduce the burdens on the poor, and remove the bewildering tapers and disincentives that are gradually sapping the economy of energy and enterprise."

You're almost there lads; but Christ, you're taking your time.

Leader in The Spectator (may require registration)


Friday, May 13, 2005

It's impossible not to like David Hasselhoff. Apparently he drinks pints of vodka which is, you know, sad.

But well done.

A short survey

More economics? More criticism of the Guardian? More pictures of little dogs? Different days for different things, e.g. economics Fridays? Or, you know, whatever?

No. You really shouldn’t have.

People will buy things if they value them at or above their price. They will not to buy them if they value it at less than the price. Subject to their budget constraint, people will choose a bundle of goods that makes them happiest.

If you buy someone a present that they could already afford, then you are creating an inefficient outcome. If the person had wanted the item, then they would have bought it. They may value a ten pound gift at five pounds. They will still like it, but they will like it less than the amount it cost. Resources are wasted.

The only acceptable gift-giving situations are:

a) To someone who is poorer than you – they would like the item, and value it at market rates, but could not afford it.
b) Buying something that the recipient likes but has not heard about so has not bought already. You might get lucky, but it’s a risk.
c) Giving someone money so that their budget constraint shifts to the right and they can buy more of what they choose. This, of course, will be determined by their new tangential indifference curve.

Otherwise the market will be distorted, resources squandered, and the children will suffer.


"This DJ has an amazing grasp of how to play to radio’s strengths. The listener interaction, interview style and turning information into entertainment without losing the message is the stuff of master classes. Radio with a masterful edge that oozes London."

He wins the Sony award for DJ of the Year and promptly calls it a day. Danny Baker will only be doing the BBC London breakfast show until the end of May. Catch it while you can.

What's that other song I hate? Oh yeah, Don't You Want Me? by the Human League.

It's rubbish.

Predictably poor review of the new Star Wars film.*

Predictably laudatory article about "Like a Rolling Stone" by some old man justifying his schoolboy crush.

* I have actually forgotten the name. Star Wars: Revenge of the Nerds?


Thursday, May 12, 2005

Just been out for a drink with Marty and The Jakester. They're both peaches - but you knew that already.

"They are estimated to be worth between £600 and £800 for the three..."


Gorgeous George.


Wednesday, May 11, 2005

I was going to write a post saying much the same as this article. Pretend I've written it and am using the link to expand on my point.

I hate this courting of youth. If you can't be bothered voting then that's your decision, but you forfeit your right to moan about The Man. The government should start banning baggy trousers and pin badges, strike while the kids aren't looking.

Best. President. Ever.

Bush ended up clapping enthusiastically, bobbing his head to the beat and finally gyrating his hips. He got so excited that he jumped onto the stage and posed for pictures. "Yeah! Yeah!" he yelled, cheering a 6-year-old boy who danced with furious energy.



Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Flava Flav to Orville,

"Orville, you're my booooooooooyyyyyy!"

This happened.

Couple of interesting articles here and here. Why not read them?

I don't know anything about Radio 4's "You and Yours" other than it sounds a bit sappy. They conducted a poll of their listeners to determine "the most significant technological innovation since 1800." Take a moment. Think of how the world has changed in the last two hundred years. Think of the inventions and scientific breakthroughs that have driven that change. Done that? Great. Now see what won with a landslide.

About three quarters of an hour ago I was walking down my street on my way to work. Near the main road I saw two teenagers pounding towards me as fast as they could.

“Aha, a couple of young lads getting some exercise!” I thought. “Capital. Some hill training to get the blood flowing.”

Then I noticed that the one in front was carrying a laptop in his arms. “Strap must have broken… He can’t wait to get home and down to some study! Take a break, bookworm!”

I stood to one side and let them thunder past. And the puffing community police officer behind them.

I probably should have stopped them, but vigilante justice is rarely a good thing.


Ooh, that US imperialism.

Through the magic of internets I am now listening to U2's Achtung Baby for the first time in ten years.

It might be brilliant.

I know. I'm surprised too.

UPDATE: It's hit and miss, but the hits are hard.


Anyone else really bored of people calling for Tony Blair’s resignation?

Yes, how terrible, after waging an unpopular war he only managed to win a third majority. What a liability.

It wasn’t a landslide, but that’s as it should be. The previous two parliaments were far too weighted towards Labour – they did not reflect the composition of the British public. Many of those 1997 gains would have to go back to the Tories, it was inevitable and right – the Labour party does not represent the values of those constituencies. If it wasn’t for the terrible state of the Conservative party they would never have switched in the first place; once anger had subsided and the leadership changed they were always going to drift back.

Blair has managed to secure a probable twelve years of Labour government. Unprecedented. More than that, the electorate’s centre of gravity has moved from comfortably Conservative to quite Labour – where it is now. This is a real achievement. Anyone who thinks that under Brown, or anyone else, there would be enormous Labour majorities is kidding themselves. It won’t be like 1997, or 2001, for a long long time.

For the sake of balance, there are squirrels and blue tits in my garden.

I live in Streatham, just down the road from Brixton. Sometimes you see that your everyday would spook a bumpkin.

I get out of Brixton tube station at about ten o’clock, and am greeted with the usual skunk:weed chorus. Down a side street, opposite the bus stop a shouting man is sitting on a square of wood, bouncing up and down in an unsuccessful attempt to snap it. A crowd of us are on the pavement, jostling for position (stay on the sides and outflank the mass) as an old black man, bearded and bald, wanders amongst us, his hand out, repeating, “Do you have five pence? Do you have five pence?”

On the bus and I walk straight into the stale, sweet urine smell of misfortune. A quick glance around reveals the source has gone; I’m safe to sit where I please. Two stops then a woman drags herself on. She is white, puffy, thirty or a cruel twenty; her curly hair is gathered back into a high ponytail. She is wearing cycling shorts, a sports bra and an open track suit top. Behind her a skinny man with an inexpertly shaved head and marks (of dirt? blood?) on his face. Good. Neither of them choose the spare seat at my side. The woman seems harmless: a few loud and incomprehensible questions called out to no one in particular, but friendly enough. They stay on for a few more stops then totter down the aisle. The man turns as he passes me, his voice and my lip-reading and intuition come up with, “you’ve dropped your drink.” Before I can politely disown the half-drunk bottle of Oasis at my feet they are gone. I watch them out my left-side window. Calling to each other over the heads of a group of teenagers they are several metres apart and together in their addiction.

My stop next. My bag brushes against a young Levantine man as I wait for the bus to stop. I decide not to apologise – it is a small infraction, easier to leave than make myself penitent. I alight at Chicken Cottage. I glance back into the fluorescent glow of the bus. On the back seat is a middle-aged black man, the size of a child. His eyes are wide open, his mouth furiously and silently chatting. His hands are in his lap and he is rocking back and forth. Ten seconds into my street and there’s a woman in a short skirt, leaning from the pavement to a wall. A man walks angrily from her, negotiations terminated.

How many hoary signs of debased city life do you need? This was an unremarkable trip home - nothing alarming, nothing unusual; but like the language of sailors it would have to be toned down in fiction lest it seemed unrepresentative - too panicked, too clichéd, too much.

It’s late, and I’m tired: my eloquence is streaking from me like a greased pig. It was funny is all.


Monday, May 09, 2005

I saw Gurinder Chadha on Piccadilly this evening. I missed my chance. I'm kicking myself that I didn't say,

"Oi! Gurinder! Bend it Like Beckham is preposterously overrated! Interestingly, many of my friends took against Keira Knightly's performance, finding it wooden; for me, is was admirably naturalistic and one of the few high points of the film!"

You can never come up with the snappy comments at the time.

Shame that Keith Harris has to have Orville with him. Cuddles is Keith's alter ego. He hates that duck.

Lionel Blair: "Nice to meet you, Flava Flav."

Television surprises and delights me once more. Time after time I am delighted by these juxtapositions. Everything is brilliant.

Man, Channel 5 shows the others how reality TV is done yet again. I am talking, of course, about The Farm.

If you told me eight years ago that Keith Harris & Orville (straight from the Saturday evening entertainment of my childhood), Cicciolina (straight out of Eurotrash) and Flava Flav (straight out of my inchoate try-hard CD collection) would be together on a reality TV programme I would have said, "What's reality TV?"

But I would be have been intrigued.

The best news I've had this year: my Dad is going to be in the Rocket Scientist team on the National IQ Test. Brilliant. I'll let you know when it's on so you can tune in and try to spot him.

"I am a simple woman and I want to be wooed..."

"But you can be as wude as you like!"


Well, this is a charming tale of sexual predators.

Our children will watch these films and be stunned that they were ever made, "Birth of a Nation"-style.

Probable sign of ageing: finding Camden almost unbearable.

It's annoying me now. It doesn't even work on its own terms.

I'm enjoying the use of leitmotif in Carry on Matron.

It's much like Wagner in that respect. And one other.


Friday, May 06, 2005

I'm going to call it a day. See you later on, dudes.

At least we're going to have the right government.

So it looks like a Labour majority of around 68. That's probably about right. The previous majority was too high - the Conservatives should have more seats.

Galloway on the other hand... that really depresses me.

Stephen Twig has a Portillo moment. To be honest, I'm not that bothered. That seat should probably be Tory.

George Fucking Galloway.

He's going to make so much of this. My only consolation is that a lot of decent people are going to be trying to expose his "indiscretions".

This is a terrible result.

Oona King loses to George Galloway.

I don't really know what to say.

I despair.

Still up.

3.00am is my time for bed, I think.

Nick Griffin gets 4000 votes? We might need to talk about that.

He went to Cambridge you know.

Keith Hill holds Streatham! I'm on the winning side for once!

Labour majority of 68. I'll take that if I'm offered it now. Norm thought 76.

Jack Straw survives his Portillo moment.

I want an election next month! I feel like getting involved, campaigning or counting.

Labour suffering in seats with large Muslim votes. Remarkable. You'd have thought they'd love Blair after Yugoslavia and Iraq.

I can't remember the last election. I remember that my housemate and I voted Lib Dem because he looked like the biggest loser. Labour were always going to win that one. I remember watching the US election though, for a while, with booze. When Texas turned to too close to call we stayed up for a while, but nothing was happening so we went to bed. Good thing, really, we'd have stayed up for weeks if we'd wanted a result.

1997 I was in Egypt. The first election I could have voted in but I didn't get my post on. We were in Dahab on the Red Sea. Sheltering in our rickety shack we tuned in to the World Service. Portillo losing his seat to an openly gay man! Huge Labour majority! Extraordinary.

Why wasn't more made about the positive effects of the war?

Anyone think Labour could lose this?

So many special effects!

"Good morning, officer!"

Who does not love Peter Snow?

And what's with the "Charlie Kennedy" stuff?

The numbers for spoiled ballot papers are pathetic, aren't they?

Well done, lads.

Loving Veritas. Christ, I could get more votes than that.

Gives me pause for thought...

To be fair, loads of current Labour seats really shouldn't be Labour. If they go back, it's probably for the best.

Malcolm Rifkind is my most-loathed Tory. His foreign policy record is sickening.

I assume everyone is watching the BBC, aren't they?

Stephen Norris: the other good Tory.

Apart from his congestion charge nonsense.

"Whispering" Anna Ford.

Big on the Northern Soul scene, you know. Married to an astronaut.

Wandsworth: been for a drink there.

Tories win Putney, their first seat of the night. Shame, was hoping for a Labour clean sweep.

It's true about the Lib Dems, you know: if not now, when? So many people are (wrongly, in my opinion) against the Iraq war, you have a government without a trace of novelty sheen, a desperate and struggling opposition... When will conditions ever so favour a third party? How they must rue the ageing of Paddy.

Fuck off, pitmen!

What is this painting a map shit?

All the seats so far are safe Labour. Surely we can't extrapolate, in that people know they can vote for the Lib Dems without any chance of them getting in?

Still, those rumours coming in about close seats aren't encouraging...

Anyone else need to squirm back into their skins after Jon Culshaw's humorous interludes?

Please can the Liberal Democrats not do really well...

"We go now to one of those odd curiosites: Robert Kilroy Silk."

Ken Clarke's favourite album?

Of course Free Jazz by Ornette Coleman.

Blunkett! Being a bit funny and charming! Didn't see that coming*.

* Neither did he etc, etc.

You know who I hate? Students. Why can't elections be out of term time? Dilute them a bit.

I like the jovial tone of the BBC's coverage. I can only assume that the tone gets even more end of term as the night goes on.

Ken Clarke. Now there's a Tory.

Him, Boris, Portillo: build your Tory party around them.


Thursday, May 05, 2005

This is going to be a tough night.

Of course Tony King!

Initial signs not looking good. No result as yet.

Extraordinary. I feel like getting down with the Zep when I get home.

Interesting article.


America and I have had a turbulent relationship. Childhood curiosity and wonder gave way to an adolescent disdain. Then, in my late later teens I discovered American literature, film noir and Noam Chomsky: ‘50s America good, contemporary America bad. Last night I wanted to be American so bad - I swear to God - I thought my tightened chest might burst and leak. I was watching Fox News and wishing, just wishing, that I could have been born there, that I knew about the different states and the intricacies of domestic policy; Europe seemed so drab. Looking at the clock (it was 16.30 there) I was imagining that I was in Austin, at work, just thinking about leaving. Perhaps I’d go to a bar on the way home? Maybe catch a poetry slam? But those things wouldn’t be any more fun there than here! I would rather clean the toilet than listen to some prick read a poem in the upstairs room of a pub (“Come on lads, off you go, we’ve got a wedding in later…”), that they have American accents makes no difference.

Who am I kidding? Of course it does. America so rules.


Push and Pull factors:

Conservatives: dangerous scape-goating populists; appeals to "common sense" do not a case make.
Liberal Democrats: no policies other than spending more money, no attempt to made to convince that the extra money needs spending. No grappling with the complexities of the tuition fee debate, just a straight “no” to bribe students. Immoral policy on Iraq.
Respect/BNP: Fascists.
UKIP: ludicrous.
Green: ludicrous and dangerous.
Labour: Good work on Iraq and tuition fees.

I voted this morning. Went for the BNP in the end, they’re the only ones with British interests at heart. I joke of course. I proudly made my mark beside Keith Hill (Labour).

The polling station was staffed by three people, two women and a man, each of a different ethnicity. In front of me an old man shuffled into the booth to make his choice. I get a kick out of this society sometimes.


Wednesday, May 04, 2005

I've just read this. It's good.

If you want a flavour, go to the Times website and do a search for Jamie Whyte. The articles that come up will probably be about the election.

I haven't read any newspapers yet this morning (just got out of the shower). Are they suggesting that Liverpool yesterday delivered a mighty performance reminiscent of, and perhaps even surpassing, the great European matches they were involved with in the '70s? Are Carragher and Gerrard being lauded as the beating English heart of this multinational team?

Is anyone mentioning that in fact, more than anything else, this Liverpool team is like Mourinho's Porto, especially the one that won the UEFA cup two seasons ago?

"If you have a Ferrari and I have a small car, I only have one chance to beat you. I have to do different things to you.

I have to do something to break your wheel, or put sugar in your engine.

If I go face to face with Ferrari in a small car you have no chance, so the Champions League for us was a bit like this."

Is there ever a bad time to rewatch Dodgeball?

Of course Patches O'Houlihan.

Well, I could have gone to bed after tonight's disappointments. Instead I watched Old School. It's about 60% of the way to a good film. Such potential wasted! What a cast! Sad. However, it did provide a new addition to my ongoing list, the best cameos ever: Seann William Scott as Peppers.


Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Will Franz Ferdinand ever do a song as good as "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake?

Wouldn't have thought so.

What would Gene Kelly think about that Volkswagen advert?

Guessing he'd be thinking, "why not just dig me up, stick some suspenders over my rotting bones and stick me on a street corner. Pimp me and my legacy so you can sell your fucking cars."


I could almost get behind Liverpool if it wasn't for Gerrard and their all red kit.

This is disgraceful. Where’s the outrage?

A soldier dies. It’s sad for his family. Where's the story?

Problem: you can’t really complain about having to fight a war if you join the armed services.

- “But I signed up for the skiing and parachuting!”
- “Fair enough. Off the boat with you.”

She says,

"It's Tony Blair's fault. He sent all those troops out.
"If he hadn't sent them out [Anthony] would still be here. He shouldn't have done it."

No one responds,

“Well yes, but if the ‘insurgent’ hadn’t planted a bomb then Anthony would still be (t)here, and that seems like a much more immediate reason for his death. If Saddam Hussein hadn’t tyrannised the region then he would still be here. If… we can go back as far as you like. Most pertinently, if Anthony hadn’t signed up for the army then he would still be here.”

For his widow to be devastated and raging is natural; for the media to exploit her grief to take pot-shots at Blair is obscene.

Surprisingly, this article - Boris Johnson takes on a "Labour car", Robin Cook a "Tory one" - is not infuriating enough to provoke an enraged foot through the computer screen. There are a comforting number of lame gags though.

"There were no spinal injuries."


UPDATE: This is not some Cambridge is best, boo Oxford kind of thing. They’re both as bad as each other - I’d be equally glad had some Cambridge tossers broken their legs.

I delight in the pain of braying yahoos wherever I find it.


Monday, May 02, 2005

Right, I'm not joking, you have to watch Derren Brown on Friday.

I've just seen it on E4. The second half contains the best television moment of the year.


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