I like a bit of chopped pork and ham once in a while, but over the past few months, I've been inundated with spam from Nigeria.
Of course, the email variety. Why specifically Nigeria? Is viagra not popular anymore?
Wednesday, 31 May 2006
Demolish that building
At last, they've started demolition work on that flippin' 'orrible building at the roundabout just south of Westminster Bridge. About time too.
I'd like to nominate another gem from RIVIA (the Royal Institute of Visually Inept Architects). It's a block of flats on the Battersea Park Road / Prince of Wales Drive junction. However, this building is brand new. It's a horrible looking lump by anyone's standards. In fact, I'd go as far as to describe it as a CARBUNCLE.
I'll send my man from Magnum to document. More later.
I'd like to nominate another gem from RIVIA (the Royal Institute of Visually Inept Architects). It's a block of flats on the Battersea Park Road / Prince of Wales Drive junction. However, this building is brand new. It's a horrible looking lump by anyone's standards. In fact, I'd go as far as to describe it as a CARBUNCLE.
I'll send my man from Magnum to document. More later.
Monday, 29 May 2006
satellite tv part deux
Dear Overoften,
What puzzles me is the affordability of satellite tv. It's quite expensive, over £40 a month plus the cost of the hardware (up to £300). Given that coucil flats and houses are supposed to be there to house the poorer members of our society, satellite tv is a very unnecessary luxury. Even so, sides of council blocks are covered with satellite dishes.
Maybe I'm mis-reading it. Maybe the dishes are all actually linked like a gigantic radio telescope scanning the outer galaxies for intelligent life-forms. A sort of Jodrell Bank for Peckham. (I won't crack a cheap gag re. intelligent life-forms & Peckham).
What puzzles me is the affordability of satellite tv. It's quite expensive, over £40 a month plus the cost of the hardware (up to £300). Given that coucil flats and houses are supposed to be there to house the poorer members of our society, satellite tv is a very unnecessary luxury. Even so, sides of council blocks are covered with satellite dishes.
Maybe I'm mis-reading it. Maybe the dishes are all actually linked like a gigantic radio telescope scanning the outer galaxies for intelligent life-forms. A sort of Jodrell Bank for Peckham. (I won't crack a cheap gag re. intelligent life-forms & Peckham).
Thursday, 25 May 2006
Modern dilemmas no.1
Dear Doctor,
I've never understood how people in council flats (who therefore must be quite poor), are able to afford to satellite television.
I've never understood how people in council flats (who therefore must be quite poor), are able to afford to satellite television.
mobile phone addiction
Bird flu is so last month.
I just don't understand the modern disease of addictive compulsive mobile phoning.
Are people so interesting now that they have to share their musings whenever they're not eating, shopping or sleeping? Come to think of it, eating and talking isn't so rare.
I don't mind people chatting on their cells on the train. It can be quite amusing to listen in to their conversations. On one morning commute in to London, a woman was having a blazing row and using very colourful language; I actually felt embarassed for her.
Driving and using a cell is clearly not a good mix, especially for bus drivers. Seen that lots of times.
This morning, a woman was out to prove that females can multi-task. Driving a car, talking on a phone, and eating AT THE SAME TIME. Maybe add 'kill a cyclist' to that list to make yourself the ultimate multi-tasker, dear.
Recently, I went to Brussels. Something I noticed was that people have the ability to walk along a street (or drive), without the need to use a mobile phone.
I just don't understand the modern disease of addictive compulsive mobile phoning.
Are people so interesting now that they have to share their musings whenever they're not eating, shopping or sleeping? Come to think of it, eating and talking isn't so rare.
I don't mind people chatting on their cells on the train. It can be quite amusing to listen in to their conversations. On one morning commute in to London, a woman was having a blazing row and using very colourful language; I actually felt embarassed for her.
Driving and using a cell is clearly not a good mix, especially for bus drivers. Seen that lots of times.
This morning, a woman was out to prove that females can multi-task. Driving a car, talking on a phone, and eating AT THE SAME TIME. Maybe add 'kill a cyclist' to that list to make yourself the ultimate multi-tasker, dear.
Recently, I went to Brussels. Something I noticed was that people have the ability to walk along a street (or drive), without the need to use a mobile phone.
Thursday, 18 May 2006
Monday, 15 May 2006
Stories like this are just too good to ignore
Two lovely stories which just made me chuckle and think that it's all for the best blah blah blah......
The story of mistaken identity at the BBC. Not as scary as Roger Thornhill being mistaken for George Kaplan in North By Northwest, but a darned sight funnier. You've got to watch the video clip and see sheer terror on the poor bloke's face. Classic
And how about some toilet humour.
The story of mistaken identity at the BBC. Not as scary as Roger Thornhill being mistaken for George Kaplan in North By Northwest, but a darned sight funnier. You've got to watch the video clip and see sheer terror on the poor bloke's face. Classic
And how about some toilet humour.
We wuz robbed
It's Monday and I've only just got my breath back from watching the amazing FA Cup Final on Saturday.
Brilliant.
If Gerrard scores like that in the World Cup, we'll be celebrating in fine style.
Brilliant.
If Gerrard scores like that in the World Cup, we'll be celebrating in fine style.
Saturday, 13 May 2006
Thursday, 11 May 2006
Crossrail for Woolwich
Fancy getting to the West End quicker than a motorbike courier? Not possible? Well, show some support to the Woolwich Crossrail campaign and one day, you might just be able to.
And for those who don't give a damn about public transport, think about your property value if Woolwich gets Crossrail.
Thought that might interest you.
And for those who don't give a damn about public transport, think about your property value if Woolwich gets Crossrail.
Thought that might interest you.
Cleaning up the streets of Plumsteadshire
Hurrah for the local constabulary.
They've come and cleared the pikey illegally sold cars from Plumstead Common today. It is a breathe of fresh air and for once, I feel that my council tax has been put to good use.
Now let's see how many hours it takes for that greasy gang to bring their junk back to the Common (look at this picture. Is that a flying pig in the sky? No, there really are NO dodgy cars).
I've spoken with neighbours about these greasy tax dodgers who sell their cars and we're all totally fed up with it.
1) Fed up with their presence across the Common. They leer at the good people of the parish as if they owned the place. Pay some f***ing tax and you might say that you own a few blades of grass.
2) Fed up with the dodgy cars and vans that slow down and even STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD to look at the latest deals (see picture below. The wheels on that jeep aren't turning. It's evening rush hour and yes, he's double parked so he can get out and look at some dodgy motors).
3) Fed up with the traffic tail-backs caused by the above.
4) Fed up with revving engines at all hours of the day, even Sunday morning. These greasy pigs clearly aren't of Christian faith.
5) Fed up with the clapped out dodgy goods taking up ALL the parking space so residents have to park elsewhere.
6) Fed up of dodgy greasy scumbags making a buck on the black market without contributing to this community.
7) Fed up with the council and the authorities doing little about the scourge of black market illegal trading. I know all that about lack of resources blah blah blah. I pay well over a thousand pounds in council tax a year and aside from getting my bins emptied, I'd like a little more for my hard earned cash.
These cars are probably low priority for Greenwich Council, trading standards and the Met Police, but does that mean we should be forgotten about because these things don't win votes?
They've come and cleared the pikey illegally sold cars from Plumstead Common today. It is a breathe of fresh air and for once, I feel that my council tax has been put to good use.
Now let's see how many hours it takes for that greasy gang to bring their junk back to the Common (look at this picture. Is that a flying pig in the sky? No, there really are NO dodgy cars).
I've spoken with neighbours about these greasy tax dodgers who sell their cars and we're all totally fed up with it.1) Fed up with their presence across the Common. They leer at the good people of the parish as if they owned the place. Pay some f***ing tax and you might say that you own a few blades of grass.
2) Fed up with the dodgy cars and vans that slow down and even STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD to look at the latest deals (see picture below. The wheels on that jeep aren't turning. It's evening rush hour and yes, he's double parked so he can get out and look at some dodgy motors).
3) Fed up with the traffic tail-backs caused by the above.
4) Fed up with revving engines at all hours of the day, even Sunday morning. These greasy pigs clearly aren't of Christian faith.
5) Fed up with the clapped out dodgy goods taking up ALL the parking space so residents have to park elsewhere.
6) Fed up of dodgy greasy scumbags making a buck on the black market without contributing to this community.
7) Fed up with the council and the authorities doing little about the scourge of black market illegal trading. I know all that about lack of resources blah blah blah. I pay well over a thousand pounds in council tax a year and aside from getting my bins emptied, I'd like a little more for my hard earned cash.
These cars are probably low priority for Greenwich Council, trading standards and the Met Police, but does that mean we should be forgotten about because these things don't win votes?
Tuesday, 9 May 2006
Trapped in a box
Isn't it an amazing feat how you can be imprisoned in a box, with no food or communication for days and days whilst the World watches and waits. Then eventually you are released and we are happy for that.
Then the miners are still able to crack a joke.
On the other hand, David Blaine......
Then the miners are still able to crack a joke.
On the other hand, David Blaine......
Sunday, 7 May 2006
The Sultan's Elephant
London was completely mesmerised for four days this week; most fortuitous for Labour & Blair - a good day to bury bad news?The Sultan's Elephant, an incredible theatrical experience has won the hearts of Londoners and presented theatre art to the masses. Royal de Luxe, the French company who have devised this show have brought pure enchanted magic to this great city.
I've heard lots about the event over the past couple of days and today, managed to get up to Central London. To describe my first sighting of the elephant as 'jaw-dropping' is an understatement. Looking over thousands upon thousands of heads, the elephant was way down in the distance along Piccadilly. Even at this distance, it looked huge. The crowds were awe-struck and whenever the elephant squirted water at them, there was a great cheer. Boy oh boy, the atmosphere was sheer happiness and everyone felt 5 years old again.
Further along the parade, the giant girl was walking up and down The Mall. Seeing the operators working these giant marionettes took none of the magic away. It was part Victorian puppetry, part oversized bunraku and 100% magic.
In this age of cynicism, some people probably questioned,
"what's the point of all this?"
"what a waste of money"
Everywhere I looked, I saw joy on people's faces. At the simplest level, this event made us all very happy and we all rediscovered the magic of childhood and importance of imagination. I think that's a pretty darned big point of all this.
Saturday, 6 May 2006
A warning to Mr Blair
Well, election time over and Labour have seen a barrage of shots across their bows. Here's hoping that they might wake up to the thought that us tax payers aren't happy bunnies at the moment.Here's a novel idea - as we're paying an incredible level of tax, how about giving a service in return? No, I know it doesn't work like that. Actually, it doesn't work. Period. In which case, if I get nothing in return for my thousands of pounds, can't I opt out of paying into this extortion racket, I mean, taxation?
No. Didn't think so.
Maybe I'll start a bonfire and burn next year's wad of thousands of pounds. A pointless exercise maybe, but I'll have the satisfaction that I'm not lining the pockets of our public servants.
Something that is REALLY worth sitting up and taking note of is the French theatrical event in Central London. How can any Londoner not have heard of the rocket that had crashed into the street? Or that there's an 11 metre high elephant roaming around town.Well, especially for my readers in faraway lands such as Japan, Poland and Dagenham, here are a couple of photos I've 'borrowed' from the interweb.
Thursday, 4 May 2006
Sunday, 30 April 2006
Curbishley
I've said it before and I'll say it again; I don't follow football league and I don't give two hoots who wins.
Why is it then that I actually feel a tiny bit sad that Mr Curbishley is leaving Charlton Ath? I don't know if it's a good thing. Maybe the fans hate the fellow.
All I know is that Charlton were promoted up to the Premiership not so long ago and just by hearing bits on the crystal set that Mr Curbishley has taken the club upwards.
From a non-football fan's point of view, Mr C looks like a nice man and as footballers go, he can string sentences together without resorting to saying, "errr, yeh, like, at the end o' the day, dat game woz good."
That's good enough for me Mr C.
Why is it then that I actually feel a tiny bit sad that Mr Curbishley is leaving Charlton Ath? I don't know if it's a good thing. Maybe the fans hate the fellow.All I know is that Charlton were promoted up to the Premiership not so long ago and just by hearing bits on the crystal set that Mr Curbishley has taken the club upwards.
From a non-football fan's point of view, Mr C looks like a nice man and as footballers go, he can string sentences together without resorting to saying, "errr, yeh, like, at the end o' the day, dat game woz good."
That's good enough for me Mr C.
World Cup Fever
Fever..... I'll say.
Yes, Sven and every England fan must be breaking out into a cold sweat now that Sir Gawain Rooney has broken his toe nail.
Don't nancy around man. Stiff upper lip and get on the pitch.
Yes, Sven and every England fan must be breaking out into a cold sweat now that Sir Gawain Rooney has broken his toe nail.
Don't nancy around man. Stiff upper lip and get on the pitch.
Friday, 28 April 2006
Spring is here
Arriving home yesterday evening, I was overcome by a queer feeling - I had the urge to mow the lawn.
Should I lie down and take an Aspirin, phone the Samaritans or walk in to the light?
The first cut of the season. Ahhh, this is one thing to remind me 'this is England'
Just to quote that English writer bloke,
Here's some lines for Plumsteadshire.
The grass is cut, the deed is done,
That urge is quelled that made me feel queer.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
Should I lie down and take an Aspirin, phone the Samaritans or walk in to the light?
The first cut of the season. Ahhh, this is one thing to remind me 'this is England'
Just to quote that English writer bloke,
Here's some lines for Plumsteadshire.
The grass is cut, the deed is done,
That urge is quelled that made me feel queer.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
Thursday, 27 April 2006
Petrol prices
I noticed that petrol station forecourt totems (you know, the thing with the gasoline price displayed and also hides mobile phone transmitters even though customers have to switch phones off whilst on the premises - practice what you preach), display 2 digits, 1 decimal point and another digit ie
94.9
see this example from many many years ago......
In which case, if/when the price exceeds 99.9p, how do they display 3 digits, 1 decimal point and another digit? ie
110.9
Does this mean that there is a ceiling price of 99.9p to gasoline?
Probably not.
So does it mean the price rise can be endless and that the gas station managers have numbers at differing widths and type-sizes? Do they also have numbers in different fonts? That'll jolly things up.
Flicking around on the interweb, I found the image at the bottom which seems to say it all.....
94.9
see this example from many many years ago......
In which case, if/when the price exceeds 99.9p, how do they display 3 digits, 1 decimal point and another digit? ie
110.9
Does this mean that there is a ceiling price of 99.9p to gasoline?
Probably not.
So does it mean the price rise can be endless and that the gas station managers have numbers at differing widths and type-sizes? Do they also have numbers in different fonts? That'll jolly things up.
Flicking around on the interweb, I found the image at the bottom which seems to say it all.....
Wednesday, 26 April 2006
Voting time again
I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO bored of this pathetic useless government.
My SWOT analysis of these plonkers is weighted so much in the wrong direction. I won't go into any of it, but for starters, all I can say is NHS.
I tried to vote these muppets out in the last election and will do the same again.
Make up your own minds and use your vote. If you love New Labour then make your mark, if you hate them, then make your mark. I was really disgusted how many of my peers didn't bother before.
My SWOT analysis of these plonkers is weighted so much in the wrong direction. I won't go into any of it, but for starters, all I can say is NHS.
I tried to vote these muppets out in the last election and will do the same again.
Make up your own minds and use your vote. If you love New Labour then make your mark, if you hate them, then make your mark. I was really disgusted how many of my peers didn't bother before.
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