Jah Jah Dub

Monday, July 31, 2006

Yesterday we found another dead rat in our garden. I didn't photograph this one, it was in a more advanced state of decay.

We also saw Woody Allen and Soon-Yi Previn taking a stroll in Battersea Park.

How was your weekend?


Friday, July 28, 2006

I now have my baseball team: the Los Angeles Dodgers. They are from the West Coast, the best coast; they moved from Brooklyn (some New York novelists still haven't got over it); fans of the San Fransisco Giants call them "the Bums".


Thursday, July 27, 2006

No Demon fan in his or her right mind would be optimistic about Melbourne's chances this year. Something is bound to go wrong. And then there's my suspicion some of the Melbourne players are soft. If you think that's a loser attitude, well jam it, you ought to try following the Dees for a spell. As that noted football expert, Dr Zachary Smith was wont to comment "Ooh, the pain."

Thanks to Tony T, I now have my Aussie Rules team: ladies and gentlemen, the Demons.


Wednesday, July 26, 2006

As you probably know, my interest in sport is largely academic. No family teams were passed down to me, and my childhood was spent away from sporting heartlands: no emotional connection took root. Reading this great article by an American looking to support an English football team got me thinking: why not pick a few teams from different sports and follow them for a while? If I could come to them through some process of elimination then so much the better, but Diceman style would probably work too – the important part is having someone to follow, the rest takes care of itself. So I’m in the market for someone to support – I’ll need a Premiership team for a start, but baseball, Aussie Rules, American Football are all good too. Feel free to try and persuade me which way to go. Let’s see if there’s something in this “sport” thing.

Please note: any suggestions for Aston Villa will be met with polite disgust.


Thursday, July 20, 2006

I've decided to give up on literary fiction for a while and stick with genre - you know, books which are actually enjoyable to read. So I'm looking for recommendations, particularly in crime and science fiction (a closed world to me). Scandinavian police procedurals particularly welcome.


Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Capitalist parasite that I am, I was flown out to Jersey on Monday for a party on a boat. If you want to see me livin' like Janet, pictures are here.


Friday, July 14, 2006

Norm asked me to do one of his profiles - it's unspectacular, but if you'd like to read it it's up on his site today. And before anyone says, I meant "Eric the Eel".

List of other profiles here.

An alternative and supportive view of Israel's recent actions on the Guardian's Comment is Free section. You don't have to agree with it to find this different perspective refreshing. But look at the comments. I mean, honestly. Here's one from "brenzone".

"Don't forget that other wretched state that does the bidding of Washington; that murderous, grasping, discriminatory state that, rather than learn from Hitler, would rather emulate his actions. Now, like Hitler's Nazi Germany, this state has created a war on two fronts. May it go the same way as Nazi Germany. Damn you!"


Wednesday, July 12, 2006

laura-wolf is wondering about this picture of Keira Knightly: “how is this person hot?” she asks. Well, the answer is, not that many people think she is. I have never ended up in a lairy conversation where anyone is rating her. However, some (men) certainly do find her attractive, especially with this make-up. Let's play by the rules - her glazed expression says "I've had too much of somthing, I'm slumped against a wall, no outcome is out of the question": it’s the path of least resistance model. See also: Emma Griffiths’s Maxim cover.

Hugh Laurie has rightly been lauded for his success playing an American in House. But there is a greater, unsung hero: Dominic West, star of The Wire*. He plays a tough Irish-American cop (there’s another kind?): he only went to bloody Eton!

* That’s The Wire as in, better than the Sopranos.


Tuesday, July 11, 2006

I have told you about the time I was a silver service waiter and had to cover the mental health hospital (some say "lunatic asylum") Christmas party, right?

A friend and I (none of you lot, this guy hardly knows what an internet is) have been trying to compile a list of things that you always find in charity shops. For instance, and in categories:

Jaws by Peter Benchley
A couple of dog-eared James Bond novels
A Kathy Lette, probably Foetal Attraction

And in Eastbourne, every one had Super-Cannes, by JG Ballard.


The Kids from Fame
Atlantic Crossing – Rod Stewart

Any suggestions, throw them up: it’s like a radio phone-in.


Yesterday, in Eastbourne, we went to a “house clearance” shop to check out the bounty of the dead. They had a waist-high stack of Sky magazines that I dug through for twenty minutes. Half a lifetime ago, when I was in my early teens, I used to buy Sky – it seemed adult, more grown up than Wild About Animals, and I hid them under my bed. Looking back, I can see that this period, 1992-3, was a watershed: the time when I awkwardly walked up to popular culture and shyly offered it my hand. What joy to see them again! This was pre-Britpop and lads’ mags, and long before the internet; the pages were full of PM Dawn, supermodels, Winona Ryder, Evan Dando, Beatrice Dalle and magenta headlines on white backgrounds (“Non-Dodgy Indie Band Alert!”). If I could have carried them off with me, I would be reading them still.


Monday, July 10, 2006

So, Love Island then. Who's your worst?

Chris Brosnan, I'd have thought.

Let's remember what Chris's Dad looks like:

And here's a nice picture of Suggs:

We needed a couple of days out of London: we went to Eastbourne.

It was hard finding a restaurant last night, everywhere was deserted. I began to worry that this was not the party town I'd hoped for. We chanced our arm on a Chinese - it looked alright. Thanks to its emptiness we were served quickly.

"Not watching the football tonight?" asked the waiter.

Of course the football! I'm sure the town centre's buzzing on other Sunday nights. If you find yourself there I can recommend Mr Hau's - watch yourself though, big portions.

Unfortunately my camera was out of gas; I refer you to the official tourism campaign for a flavour of the place.

Eastbourne: Shuffling old duffers not pictured.


Sunday, July 09, 2006

Last night I dreamt that I was at a UK Naturalisation class, hoping along with everyone else that I might be granted citizenship. The class was hosted by Dermot O'Leary.


Thursday, July 06, 2006

Beware of fakes, you collectors of David Bowie stamps.

Last night I dreamt that not only did I live in New York, I could also fly.

My alarm, dragging me back at 5.35, has never sounded so brutal.


Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Yesterday I watched two teams with proud histories fight for glory: Sidney Sussex, Cambridge, 1979 vs Keele, 1968. Man, they were good. Sidney Sussex were formidable, one of the best performances I’ve ever seen.


I just remembered that Stephen Fry presented the winners with their trophies. I can never think of Fry without calling to mind Captain Broadchurch's thundering condemnations. Here's one from Big as a Whale, a joint venture between Marty, Broadchurch and me. In many ways we were our generation's Crosby, Stills and Nash or Smokin' Mojo filters. It ended in a blizzard of cocaine and recriminations, of course - these things often do. Still, good times.


Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Ah, corporate hospitality!

My default setting regarding these things is to play down any perk, offer an embarrassed shrug and run down the benefits. No more, my friends. I'm sure you'd rather I had a good time than a bad one: so I'd like to confirm that yesterday, while you were at work, I was sipping champagne in the Gatsby Club, readying myself for a three course lunch. You pay for these things with the occasional strained conversation, but hey... One of our party was a South African woman in Prada. Mild surprise was expressed at one point that her childhood house had a swimming pool.

"Ifraywan hass a swimming pul in Saith Africa," she said.

I'm not quite sure that's true.

Centre Court though, it sure was hot. I saw this match and this match: Murray was poor; Federer, extraordinary.


Monday, July 03, 2006

I'm going to Wimbledon today - the tennis tournament, not the shopping centre. I'll let you know how it goes.


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