Te-Riff-Ic #2

I am fast losing patience with commuting. Especially when am wedged into corner in a stress position which would not look out of place in Guantanamo bay*

Anyway, this morning I took refuge in the Dandy Warhols' Bohemian Like You. Good little track, that - not least the doo-dee-dah-doo-dah synth line. And the animation which starts the video is a nice touch, too.



*Dear FT readers. We know you're reading a broadsheet. But please, for the love of apples, FOLD THE BLOODY THING.

When Spokesman Attack

I have a passing professional interest in PR and Media relations. So when I spot a quote of complete and unutterable idiocy, I cannot let it pass.

"Project manager David Linley revealed that the company had a poor success rate in obtaining planning permission."Less than 20 per cent of our applications for wind farms get approved," he said, "although once they get turned down we always appeal. At the appeal stage we expect around one in three to go through.”

http://www.saffronwaldenreporter.co.uk/content/saffron/news/story.aspx?brand=SAFOnline&category=NewsSaffron&tBrand=HertsCambsOnline&tCategory=newslatestSAF&itemid=WEED05%20Aug%202008%2013%3A11%3A26%3A680

In one fell swoop, yer man has said: We try it on, all the time. We're not very good at what we do. And we waste a lot of money on barristers.

Clear desk, out door...

£3.50 a day better off

Today I am all of the grumpy. This is in no small part due to nicotine withdrawal.

I have decided to change a habit of some 17 years and actually give up smoking (both openly and clandestinely). This decision occurred a week ago last Friday. That means I am now 11 days into being a not-presently-smoker.

And am taking it out on pretty much everyone. Especially those who have been nagging me to quit. You deserve everything you’ve got coming, you sanctimonious harping numpties.

So apologies in advance (and possibly retrospectively) to those around me if I am being a bit blunter than normal. But whatever you do, don’t get between me and snacks.

Prevarication #2

Hello. My name is Dive, and I am a recovering Geek.

As such, I have no shame whatsoever that a tiny bit of wee came out when I saw this:

http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/08/the_large_hadron_collider.html

Now, I have no idea what it does, but blind me if it ain't just magnificent - huge in scale, shiny in sheen and just a tad scary. Much like an extra-large doner from Hassan's of Broad Street. (More on that at a future date.)

I am a bit worried, though, at some friend's responses. One thought it looked a bit like 'a stargate wormhole membrane'. Now, I don't know anything about Stargate - I think I was in rehab, having Elementary Offside Rule and Talking To Girls 101 hammered into my overly-foreheaded skull at the time it opened - but nonetheless, I seized the opportunity to throw out a testosterone-laden ManRetort. Something about reminding me of an ex, I think.

(The act of retorting was, in itself, quite pleasant. Look at me, I tfelt I had said. I have rejoined society. My sandals have retired. I go outside. I HAVE TAN.)

Unsurprisingly it fell on deaf ears. Being unfunny, and all.

But - in a possibly karmic sense - I may as well have fallen into some sort of wormhole today.* Eight hours on to account for on my timesheet, no lunchbreak, but somehow a grand total of 2 hours billable toil.

I think I might be in some trouble come tomorrow morning.


*I'm referring to it as a VorDesk.

Te-Riff-Ic #1

Large portions of the past weekend and this morning were spent dum-dum-dumming the intro to the Violent Femmes' Blister in the Sun. Who’d have thought Four Chords could give rise to such a grin.



Hopefully it’s now firmly lodged on your internal jukebox, too. Whilst trying to dislodge it, feel free to suggest an alternative pun for the title. The shame of the above is almost overwhelming.

As was being shushed by a stentorian commuter on the 0809 from Woking as the volume on the iThing got pushed a tad too far…

Quote of the Day: 1 viii 08

"Halt. You are surrounded by armed bastards!"

I know that I'm a fair way behind the arc with Life on Mars references, but I am adopting Gene Hunt as my role model.

Bring on the camel coat, bronze cortina and chip butties. The receding hairline is already sorted, sadly.

Pseud over wicket

Now, I'm as much a fan of overly verbose and frankly wanky prose as the next bloke... but this really does take the biscuit. Yer man has, I'm fairly certain, a bit of a thing for young Mr Flintoff...

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/sport/cricket/article4439466.ece