The Chant of the Barbie Dolls

Facebook admits 1 in 6 posts now from bloke on extended holiday

2012-02-12T03:05:00.000-08:00

In a startling development, Facebook, the social net working web site, admitted this weekend that one in 6 posts on the site with almost a billion members, is now being generated by a bloke on an extended holiday in the far east.

Mr Kenny Li, and his wife Fiona (nee Rawlinson) recently departed English shores to visit Hong Kong, leaving in hurried and suspicious circumstances. Reports indicate they may have been married before they left, but we at Chant of the Barbie Dolls have not confirmed this, because we haven't had our pictures back from Jessops yet.

Sources close the couple yesterday said that Mr Li, a self avowed technology fundamentalist, had always been a prolific blogger, shameless self promoter, and serial poster of pictures of food in restaurants, despite being repeatedly told by other diners to "get that camera out of my souffle", but that recently it seemed as if he had upped his output by several orders of magnitude.

"It's really quite impressive, how he manages to fit it all in", one source who refused to be named told us. "Recently I've had to quit work to devote myself entirely to the task of managing his posts. I've recently gone to tender for the supply of hardware infrastructure management of the additional servers I've had to install. It's quite sad in some ways - I've had to move my elderly mother into a residential care home in order to make room in the house for cooling equipment for the hardware. I guess she's just the latest innocent victim of Kenny's heedless verbal and visual fecundity."

We asked a Facebook spokeswoman why the corporate behemoth hadn't done anything to curtail Mr Li's prolific posting, but she only responded to say that unless we removed ourselves and our microphone from the toilet cubicle she would be calling the police. While we discussed the finer points of freedom of the press with the Facebook security guards, in the 4 minutes and 19 seconds it took to be ejected from the building, Mr Li racked up an astonishing 3.26 million additional posts, including enough visual imagery to record those 4 minutes and 19 seconds in sufficient time resolution to see bullets pass through cups of, no doubt delicious, Chinese tea.

As the posting continues, so the issues continue to mount: scientists at the University of East Anglia climate research centre have said that Mr's Li's output is the single largest cause of increased greenhouse gas emissions this year. Asked if this was an increasingly worrying trend on top of an already dire situation one terrified researcher said "My wife and I have already sold our house to buy a piece of a time share bunker on Snowden; now we are facing a 'Sophie's Choice' of which one of our 3 kids to bring with us".

The US State Department has issued a statement saying that along with Iran, it views Mr Li's escalation of posting as the single most "clear and present danger" to the security of the United States. "This aggression will not stand.....it will not stand", said one senior Pentagon official. When pressed on the matter he also said "all options are still on the table", but refused to comment further.

Terence Malick and the Tree of Nothing

2011-10-09T11:30:00.000-07:00

Went to see "The Tree of Life".

Visually very impressive, and at one point, very reminiscent of scenes in 2001 A Space Odyssey, and had me sold for a while (despite being quite clichéd).......but ultimately, very long winded, and I'm really not sure about what I reckon the conclusion was - started off with a good premise but it ended quite wishy-washily....hard on the knees but I was inclined to wait it out).

A LOT of people left the cinema. There was a lot of guffawing as well. Maybe they thought they were in Transformers.

I now recall that "Thin Red Line" was exactly the same in being visually great but ultimately failing as a film, as opposed to a piece of cinema!

Still, Malick is to be commended I suppose - how many people can put what is essentially an experiment in cinema into a multi-plex?

Plus, when you compare it to the impenetrably obscure (and overwhelmingly boring) "Inland Empire" (David Lynch), you can actually follow it and muddle something out of it. And it at least wasn't tedious....

In which a point is proven

2011-05-09T15:18:00.000-07:00

Chapman for a time had a very substantial and successful agricultural machinery sale, hire and repair business out be-Kinnegad, inherited from his late great-uncle, a strong-farmer from West-Meath, who died suddenly from an ovine-related illness that's well known to both you an me.

"Health and safety is the watchword these days" he assured Keats in the worried tones of the modthren pillar-of-the-community business man, over a few pints at lunchtime in The Kinnegad Arms Hotel. Keats demanded an example.

"Well, we purvey a class of 4 wheeled faming vehicle...".

"Ah, the quad bikes" interposed Keats.

"Indeed", continued Chapman, "but unscrupulous blackguards in certain Eas-ther-din European countries sell many's the knock off into legitimate markets".

"Can't you tell the difference" quizzed Keats.

"Oh faith and you can - with the expert eye you can; oh, the expert eye's the thing. That's the boyo to sort them out alright. But these fake ones, they're so dangerous, I had to email all the staff, clueing them up to the dangers, even had to post a copy of it on all the bulletin boards, showing exactly how you can prove which ones are fake and which ones are real".

"Well that certainly explains something that's been puzzling me" said Keats, nervously, edging out of his seat.

"What's that then", asked Chapman, reaching for the heavy glass ashtray from the table next to them.

"Ah, only that a lot of people I know from the plant having been referring to your email using a most peculiar epithet". Keats was by now slowly opening the lounge door. Chapman didn't dignify the pause with a query.

"Yes", continued Keats, "they've been calling it the Quad Ersatz Memorandum".

Keats was out the door as the ash tray splintered against the jamb, and now supplies all his heavy farm machinery needs at Curry's.

Eqwhine

2011-04-15T17:44:00.000-07:00

Satanists.

Man, that's one group of people that really get my goat.

Me ould flower.....

2011-03-25T08:04:00.001-07:00

Keats and Chapman, having abandoned short trousers and school blazers when they were mere nippers in the quondam of their nonnage for the hallowed halls of the University of Life, always regretted their early educational curtailment, and so, late in life decided to undertake getting their honour in Higher Course Leaving Certificate English, and enrolled in an adult evening educational program up be Kevin Street for the purpose of advancing their minds and cultivation, late bloomers, as it were.

Late one night, whilst burning the midnight proverbial, Keats bemoaned the quality of some of the poetry they were being forced to study. "If I have to read that 'In the time of the breaking of the nations' one more bloody time, I'm going to fling Gussy Martin and 'Soundings' right out the window", he opined, yawning. Chapman roundly abused his short sightedness thusly: "But it comes up every year in the exam - it's well worth studying - guaranteed question...." he said, pausing momentarily with a sudden dawning realisation.

Keats lay down his book by his students lamp, and gently returned his chair to all it's fours from whence he'd been gently swinging back in his yawn, all the while eyeing Chapman, whose face was slowly morphing into a deeply aggravated "Aw here" expression. "Well", said Keats, "I suppose that would make it a Hardy Perennial, wouldn't it?". When the results came out, Keats got his honour, but Chapman was non-plussed by his B.

A Long time ago, when the internet was young.....

2011-03-18T14:55:00.001-07:00

7 reasons why "reservoir Dogs" is a masterpiece of cinema, and it's similarity to Shakespeares' "King Lear".

1. It looks and sounds really cool, and since we're talking about CINEMA that's highly important. Also it's in 70mm, so it has to look good/cool to come off well. The black suits, the language, the guns especially, even Mr. Oranges apartment which was being redecorated. "Superfucking cool".

2. Claims that's it's unoriginal are not valid: nothing is really original as every movie made can slot into a genre, and all movies are just rehashing old ideas. All art is that really, the originality in any art, if it's present, comes in the way the old material is presented to the audience, and what slant is actually put on the important themes. With reference to Kubricks 'The Killing', RD is much better and really owes nothing to that except that everybody gets killed except for one guy, and he gets caught. There is in one sense a great similarity between Woos "A better tomorrow 2" in the way everybody wears the black suits during the heist, but that's not plagiarising or anything. It's just a tiny element which is in one way being rehashed. Again there's no question but that RD is so much better than ABT2 that it defies belief. But the last 15 minutes of ABT2 does contain some extremly well worked and choreographed violence.

3. This is the sundry category of the list: all of the following were superlative about the film:
Editing: there is not 1 second too much or to little in the film, one learns all that one needs only when necessary to understand the story or only when it's needed to heighten tension or for some dramatic purpose. One also learns a lot during the film through the medium of flashback, but again only when it suits the purpose of the film.
Acting: esp Tim Roth, Harvey Keitel, Michael Madsen, Steve Buscemi. Dialogue: extremely tense, often hillarious, and reflecting a proffessionalism in the thieves not seen in any previous film that I know of.
Cinematography: ties in with what I said earlier about the film looking good.

4. Regarding common objections/criticisms that some people have about the film i.e:
A) It's very violent/bloody.
B) The 'cutting off of the cops ear' and torture scene are too disturbing.

I would employ the old standard arguments in both of these cases: you don't have to watch it if you don't want to; if an individual is diposed to kill, torture, injure or hack someone else to death, seeing a film is not going to persuade them otherwise and certainly wont persuade them to do it; a film maker can't be bound by the hypothetical considerations of some special individual's craziness, no more than an architect or civil engineer can be held responsible if someone starts shooting people with a rifle off the top of a building they designed and built.

I should also point out that, in fact, RD isn't actually all that violent. Sure people get shot, but that happens in almost every film you see. What people are really objecting to is the fact that Mr. Orange bled to death on screen and the scene where Mr. Blonde tortures the cop and cuts off his ear. In actual fact you don't even see the ear being cut off and while it would appear that the director takes a very neutral role in the story simply depicting the act, it's very very clear as to what way he wants us to consider these actions (see the points below in realtion to the similarity with King Lear) i.e the actions of a sick and deranged individual, but one who can dangerously masquerade quite naturally as an apparently normal person.

For doing a good and realistic job of portraying someone bleeding to death a director gets slammed for being too violent. On the other hand, so called cartoon-like violence isn't acceptable because it trivialises the effects of violent actions and leads people (whoever they are) to believe that you can just get up and walk away from car crashes, gun-shot wounds etc. To attempt to censor out all violence from film or any other medium would be futile, diastrous and doomed to failure. Credit where credit's due as well: in this day and age, with sufficient TV news channels to take your pick of live wars from around the globe ("AND incredibly no one gets hurt") it's actually quite a skill to make violence look distressing. Think of the Deer Hunter and the famous Russian Roulette sene. Most people remember that as a very disturbing piece and it was a credit to Michael Ciminos brilliance that, just a couple of years after the fall of Saigon when horrific TV images would still be washing around societal memory he could produce, artificailly, something so powerful. The same with Tarantino: you can see people being shelled live on TV and he manages, within the bounds of a convention which everybody knows is not at all real, to distress people in his depiction of a violent act. That's talent.

5. Most people dont see enough dross to realise that RD is a masterpiece, but if you see enough standard run-of-the-mill Hollywood (and other) films, you get to know that most are rubbish and rehash the same old plots as different vehicles for brand new stars created as artificially as new pop bands and for exactly the same reason. Witness the number of sequels produced every year from Hollywood. There's one thing the film industry rarely forgives: it is cripplingly afraid of commercial failure. This of course stems from the 'Heavens Gate' incident which succeeded in bankrupting United Artists. After that, movies were made in a very different manner financially, as all of the studios said: "that will never be us". This fear Hollywood has of commercial failure punishes originality and individual vision and flair and anything which has not been seen before because 'it's too risky, we might loose money on it - go for the tried and trusted formulae which made cash the last time and do it again'. This was excellently satirised in Altmans 'The Player' where every new movie has to be either a sequel or a mix of the elements of previously sucessful movies ("it's kind of Pretty Woman meets out of Africa"). The reason why RD was highly critically acclaimed but lots of the public were a smidgeon upset by it, is because critics tend to see large numbers of films whereas general members of the public might not, and as such, critics are more likely to spot and original film in amongst the dross. Now this isn't just idle speculation on my part. Tarantino is on record as having said that one of the reasons he managed to get RD made was that people in Hollywood need to be told what's good and what isn't, because they're afraid to make up their minds. When he strolled into this situation as a highly opinionated film buff, who had nothing to show for his hobby but a highly developed opinion, it was like the sheep dog arriving at the sheeps party in that Gary Larson Far Side cartoon.

RD has broken the mould of the heist movie genre, and that hasn't happened since Ciminos' 'Thunderbolt and Lightfoot'. In the very ordinary bland and banal world of entertainment the heist movie, with a good few honourable exceptions like Lumets' 'Dog Day Afternoon', 'Thunderbolt and Lightfoot', 'The Italian Job', is one where the convention to follow runs like this: getting the right guys together for the job, practice and planning, the execution and the getaway. All the time we're up for the baddies by vitue of seeing things from their point of view. The archetype for this is of course 'The Italian Job'. RD also has a permutation of these elements but in a very original format, thanks mainly to the editing and screenplay. There's no need for any more heist movies, the genre, with the production of RD, has served it's purpose.

6. The characterisation is brilliant. The robbers aren't just the ordinary run of the mill baddies who are actually goodies because we see things from their perspective: they are highly proffessional. Note the number of references to proffessionalism made by Pink and White (Pink: Am I the only professional here ? White: What you're supposed to do is act like a fucking professional. Pink: You're acting like a first year thief!). They are all ruthless, and in one case psychopathic, individuals who nevertheless take completely different personal, and lets be blunt about it MORAL stands when it comes to being forced to make important decisions. White, who has 'tagged' at least 2 cops earlier in the day, defends a man whose probably almost dead anyway, with his own life, because he wont stand by and allow Joe 'to make this mistake'. Blonde has the complete trust of two mafia bosses and is completely loyal to them, yet he's a 'sick maniac' (this point is addressed elsewhere); Pink is obviously a very sharp individual (see below), yet he describes his 'wising up' as getting into armed robbery, which results in his almost getting killed, and probably ending up in prison for a very long time (having at least shot a cop earlier). These are examples of the complications of the characterisation which makes them all the more interesting.

7. RD is in fact a deeply moral film which, on a thematic level, paralells many of the major themes and incidents in Shakespeares 'King Lear' (KL).

Johnathan Miller once said that his greatest fear was pain inflicted for pleasure. Looking at all of Tarantino's work, and King Lear, there are characters who engage in torture for their own satisfaction. There's an almost identical character that pops up in RD (Mr. Blonde), True Romance (TR) (the mafia hitman who beats Alabama to find where the cocaine is), and Pulp Fiction (PF), (Zed the rapist) and latterly the younger brother in From Dusk Till Dawn. This character even does the same sort of thing: both Zed and Blonde are extremely menacing: Blonde says to the cop "Are you finished now ?" and sort of waves his hand at him; Zed also does that. He sort of reassuringly and in a very menacing way holds up his hand, waves it a bit and says somehting like, very, very calmly, "Shhhhh, yeah hold it". It's really scary. Also one of the most frightening things about the torture scene is the look on the cops face when Blonde starts to dance just before he starts to torture him to "Stuck in the middle with you". It's because he knows that he's dealing with a real sick maniac: the terror on his face is first class, as Masden dances across his field of view (on the one hand we think Masden looks cool/funny, on the other the cop is extremely terrified by this, and we think: "Whoa - he's really worried, maybe this isn't so funny", which it of course turns out not to be. It's one thing being tied up by somebody and beaten up for a reason ("We want to know about the setup" or "Tell us where you've hidden the loot" or "is it safe") but it's another if you're tied up and some guy whips out a razor and starts dancing. It's the difference between being caught by Edmund and Cornwall. The former will kill you if he has to to get what he wants, the latter might do it just for fun and in a very unpleasant way.

There is an obvious comparison between Blondes torturing the cop and Regan and Cornwall mutilating Gloucester, both acts being done for the selfish gratification of one persons desires, at the expense of anothers physical (and mental) pain. It's not just that the torturer does something to another individual for their own pleasure, it's the fact that the other individual has to suffer and experience pain in order that the torturer receive their pleasure. This is most easily demonstrated in the case of Zed, the rapist in PF. Of necessity his 'enjoyment' of the rape, requires that the rapee suffer acute physical pain (not that we're overly sympatheric towards Marcellus Wallace at any stage - he's another vicious criminal very prepared to kill at a moments notice: to whit his pulling a gun on Butch, who had to kill or be killed. Of course Butch didn't have to kill Vincent Vega but that's another story). Also the mafia hitman in TR, who, even though he got sick on his first hit, now did the hits, "just to see the expression on their faces change". Which is really sick, because he didn't start out that way, he let himself become like that. How Cornwall and Regan fit into this is clear: they get the same perverted pleasure and self gratifiction from the torture of Gloucester as discussed above. Regan seems to actually enjoy the physical act itself, while Cornwall seems to require this sort of retribution in order to sate an almost palpable physical urge: he cries "I will have my revenge", in a way that sounds like "I want my lega". Regan is the real monster here, which is not to lessen Cornwalls monstrouusness, because she doesn't seem to really care what Gloucester did, she's along for the 'fun' of the torture. Her "Let him smell his way to Dover", which to her no doubt was funny, is somewhat reminiscent of Blondes "Hey hows it going can you hear that" into the dismembered ear, a sick sort of humour, as with Zeds, "Eeny meeny miney mo", which was horrendous. They think what they're up to is amusing and pleasureable (they're like spoiled kids getting their own way), they have no conception of empathy with the individuals concerned. Of course in this same very scene we see Cornwalls servant stand up and refuse to let Cornwall go any further in his monstrous treatment of Gloucester, in the same SCENE!!, and this leads on to the next point.

Interestingly in both RD and KL it's the torture victims themselves who actually plant the ideas in their torturers minds as to what will be inflicted upon them. In RD, the cop says to Blonde "you can torture me all you want." And Blonde replies "Yeah torture you, that's a good idea". In KL Gloucester early on when he's captured says something like "though I lose mine eyes for it", which plants the idea in Cornwalls mind of plucking out his eyes. Even in the act of the torture there's a similarity - Cornwall struggling says "out vile jelly" during the act and Blonde says "hold still will ya". There's a sort of "amusing" little conversation going on, like the victim is somehow removed from the physical pain they're in, and their physical presence is somehow interfering with some necessary job being done. This is exactly what you might expect though, because only someone who can have no empathy at all could do something like Blonde, Cornwall and Regan do. There is also the comparison between White's refusal to let Joe kill Orange ('This is a mistake I wont let you make Joe') and Cornwalls servant trying to stop him mutilating Gloucester, and all other examples of where a 'servant' engages in an act of pure loyalty to a 'master' (remember Blondes' extremely menacing 'Let me tell you something - I don't have a boss' to the trapped cop), only to pay very dearly for that sense of Loyalty. In the published screenplay of RD, lots of things were originally shot and than removed and 1 or 2 crucial 'bits' were added during the shooting (e.g. looking up Mr. Whites criminal record, meeting with someone from records, picking out his mugshot, and one or two snippets of conversations: one snippet which would favour the arguments I'm making here that was left out was a brief argument White and Eddie have in the car coming back with Pink from picking up the diamonds: Eddie could only get a nurse (the nurses name was Bonnie - as in the nurse who was supposed to be Quentin Tarantinos wife in PF in the scene with Winston Wolf - 'The Bonnie Situation', and of course Tarantinos' mothers name is Connie) and no Doctor. White complains with the words "You and Joe have a responsibility to your men", and "If he dies I'll hold you personally responsibile".

White feels he has a responsibility to Orange and to Pink in getting one to a hospital and telling the other the truth about the situation (if Orange doesn't go to a hospital he dies, if he does he will be caught and may be able to trade information about his fellow thieves) and the way, like Kent seeing Oswald, he completely loses his temper at some individual who's an anathema to him that is: Whites reaction to Pinks "We're not taking him to a hospital" because "If they get him they get closer to you, if they get closer to you they get closer to me and that can't happen".

Another similarity between RD and KL is the presence of a classic Machiavel and the ending as being in a way similar to KL in showing how self destructive the Machiavellian philosophy is (rather we should say how self destructive the type of behaviour Cornwall and Ragan and Goneril engage in is, because Machiavellianism, by it's own definition, is a system of ruling that will work and perpetuate itself). I mean in KL the ending is a vindication, tragic though it is, of the values that those who least deserved to die in the play but did, stood for. In contrast to those values we can see the 'baddies' died/murdered/self destructed because the values they based their actions on WERE ultimately self destructive. The basis of all morality has to be "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you". Anything other than this and we all have the freedom to do what we want for whatever reason to anybody else - even on a purely selfish level this sort of value has got to pan out profitably (even on the evolutionary level of 'the selfish gene' a la Richard Dawkins). This is also the distinction between Reagan, Goneril, Cornwall and Edmund, who resembles Pink and also White to a certain extent, but White has a touch of the Kents about him.

There are numerous examples of Mr. Pink being one of the sharpest of the bunch: at breakfast he's the one who remembers Mr. Browns thread of conversation; he instantly recognises that the situation was a set up and that someone had to be a rat (mind you he still needed Whites experience and calm to get him through his freaked out phase. He lacks a little maturity with the not wanting to be Pink thing as well); he even forces White to use his head (Pink: You could be the rat. White: Yeah for all I know you could be the rat. Pink: Good now you're using your head.); He's the one who came away with the diamonds and stashed them; he's also the only person to survive the whole affair, but he does get caught; the perfect machiavel; in Dungeons and Dragons terms his character is neutral neutral. So there is a constant friction between those serving selfish interests and those who are capable of selflessness in KL and RD.

An interesting point is how it was that Blonde gained the trust of the mafia bosses: presumably he was so loyal to them because he was given free range to indulge himself in whatever way he felt under their tutelge.

One enigma is why it is that White decided to kill Orange at the very end. He could easily have given up and both would have been taken to hospital and both would probably have lived. The problem though would have been that White would deffinitely have gone to prison for a very long time. Also, even though he may have tried to explain what happened the fact that he was one of the few to have survived the whole affair woould have cast suspicions on him. Prison, and hard time prison for a convicted cop killer would no doubt not be made any easier by the fact that he had killed a mafia boss and his son, and would be suspected of being in cahoots with the cops. Why then his "Looks like we're going to do some time kid" as he lifts Orange up. Earlier we heard him say: "If it's a choice between doing 10 years and tagging some idiot that's no choice". So would he have given himself up if Orange had not told him he was a cop ? What was Orange thinking: he may have thought that White would give himself up if he knew he was a cop, but in fact this is what made him kill Orange (take him 'hostage' in fact). I think once he heard that Orange was a cop he knew he'd been set up and was as good as dead so decided jail was out of the question and decided to blast on the way out.

The captured cop never said anything about Freddy Newendike being an undercover cop, despite all the torture and mental anguish he went through (i.e., getting his ear cut off and having petrol thrown over him and about to be set alight). So, even though he might have had good reason for supposing him dead, he never gave him up. One might argue that he knew that even this information wouldn't save him from being killed (note Nice Guy Eddies' very 'take it for granted tone' that they were going to kill him, "We're not going to let him now he's seen our faces"), but even in last ditch desperation he didn't give him up. So I interpret this as being yet more evidence for the points of view propounded above: the cop was only briefly introduced to Orange, and yet remains loyal to his colleague, even though to grass may very well have prolonged his life. When you think about it, it was an extremely brave thing to be able to do i.e keep quiet and not start shouting "It's him, him", sort of thing, even in a panic, which is what I'd have been doing before they even started asking.

"Don't hate nuthin at all except hatred..."

2011-01-11T16:50:00.000-08:00

http://shakespearessister.blogspot.com/2011/01/lets-get-this-straight.html#

This is an interesting, thought provoking, and well written blog post. In the wake of the recent Arizona shootings I found myself, reflexively turning to the notion that the right wing shock jocks climate of paranoia, hatred, racism and penchant for violence filled rhetoric had to end up somewhere. Beck, Palin, O'Reilly Hannity, Limbaugh, Liddy, Buchanan, Robertson, Savage - they all retain some sort of plausible deniability (they didn't specifically tell that guy to do anything), but we all "know" they are responsible.

This got me to thinking about the logic of "blaming" the right on the basis that what they say "creates a climate in which this sort of thing is bound to happen".

Is it consistent, from a left wing point of view, to argue that violent right wing rhetoric and hate speech, while not directly or immediately responsible for the Arizona shootings (at least there's no direct evidence for that), created an ongoing climate of sustained violent rhetoric and imagery that may have lead an unstable person into committing these acts?

Surely the left would argue against censorship in video games, music, film, literature, media, even pornography, on the grounds that there's no evidence that this contributes to violent crimes or acts or their incitement? Presumably the unspoken assumption is that even if something does happen, this is one of the prices we pay for living in a society where freedom of expression mingles, very occasionally, with mental instability, leading to horrific outcomes.

[Interestingly, on the left, some feminists are now arguing the opposite: that increasingly violent pornography creates a climate in which women become increasingly endangered].

If we can argue against censorship on these grounds, isn't it inconsistent to want to accuse the right of creating a "climate" in which mentally unstable people are somehow goaded into terrible and violent action?

I suppose there might be a difference between politicians, radio and TV "news-fomational/info-tainment" hosts engaging in regular and repeated hate speech and outrageous attacks and calls for murder, and a climate where violent films, literature, internet images, videogames etc are readily available?

Is the fact that politicians and TV hosts are "real" a quantitative difference in the impact they might have, over say, someone seeing Bruce Willis in a 'Die Hard' film shooting down helicopters and tagging bad guys? In the mind of a deranged person, could we be sure there is any difference? I think not.

So, if it's correct, and I think it is, to say that we should not be censoring arts and media (up to the legally permissible limits of free speech, for as Chomsky always points out, there are limits), then the idea that you can censor right wing shock jocks and politicians, or blame or associate their rhetoric with the Arizona shootings is also false.

What would be better, or at least more consistent, is to examine whether what they say is actually covered by free speech or not, whether any of it legitimately breaches incitement laws, and focus on exposing and beating back those statements that are out of line with existing law. That, and advocating gun control laws, and instituting guidelines for press and media about how such incidents are covered in order to minimise any copycat potential.

The Mark Curtis Experience

2010-12-22T16:33:00.000-08:00

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/dec/21/wikileaks-cables-british-police-bangladesh-death-squad

This is a fascinating article from today's Guardian (22-Dec-2010) courtesy of Wikileaks. In many ways, this is like a Mark Curtis style revelation, in REAL TIME! We don't have to wait 30 years to find it out.....

To quote from the piece:


"The US ambassador explains in the cables that the US government is "constrained by RAB's alleged human rights violations, which have rendered the organisation ineligible to receive training or assistance" under laws which prohibit American funding or training for overseas military units which abuse human rights with impunity."


So when the famous Goldstone report reveals that Israel committed war crimes in Operation Cast Lead, that has no impact on US funding of Israel (the US already doesn't fund, as Chomsky points out, Hamas)? Like that issue couldn't be raised in the article? Straight away you get an insight into the journalistic rigour attached to this article, but also you get an insight into the utter contempt for their own laws the US elite have...etc etc....

This is another absolute gem:


"It is understood that there have been disagreements within the Foreign Office about the British government's involvement with the RAB. Some officials have argued that the partnership with the RAB is an essential component of the UK's counter-terrorism strategy in the region, while others have expressed concern that the relationship could prove damaging to Britain's reputation."


How typical that everything is framed in terms of it being in the UK's interest: no matter what way it bounces, it's all about the UK! Either it's good, in that it helps with counter terrorism, or it's bad for the "reputation" of the UK. Never mind up to 1,000 people murdered (sorry "killed extra-judicially"). I mean, how obscene? Even if you try to argue "well, it may be immoral sounding, but the realities of geopolitics for statesmen and women, is that they must consider these issues from precisely that point of view - it is their job to think in those terms in the national interest", I don't buy it - how can it be in the national interest of the people of the UK to train death squads in Bangladesh - the only thing that's going to do (and you don't have to be an Intelligence Analyst to figure this out) is poison people against the UK and increase the risk of attacks.

"In the most recent "crossfire" killings, the RAB reported that it had shot dead Mohammad Mamun, 25, in the town of Tangail, shortly after midnight on Monday, and that 90 minutes later its officers in Dhaka, 50 miles to the south, had shot dead a second man, Taku Alam, 30. Today the RAB announced it had shot dead a 45-year-old man, Anisur Rahman, said to be a member of the Communist party in the west of the country."

The reality is that this is exactly the same thing that went on in Indonesia where the US and UK facilitated the destruction of the opposition to the preferred regimes, which were friendly to the interests of British and American corporations - and if anyone thinks that the interests of British corporations and the British people are necessarily aligned they may need to think again.....

Finally there's this priceless doozy:

'In one cable, the US ambassador to Dhaka, James Moriarty, expresses the view that the RAB is the "enforcement organisation best positioned to one day become a Bangladeshi version of the US Federal Bureau of Investigation".'
That REALLY gives you a great insight into the origin and purpose of the FBI!

Presidential Pardon?

2010-11-29T16:17:00.000-08:00

Chapman's ould lad had worked in the corpo for years, and got the boys a cushy number on the public broom, sweeping streets on a cushy beat up be Earlsfort Terrace, it being as much as their benighted brains was up to, when they unintentionally foiled an armed robbery be-way of a missed banana skin, generating so much good will from the bewildered bank manager that he promised them anything their hearts desired; he was doubly, and even more unjustifiably impressed when, after a brief conflab, they decided the one thing that would, as it were, get them off the streets, would be a decent education. He bought them the finest education money could buy, and they were both duly dispatched to MIT on the east coast of the US, the very next day.

The following summer, Keats procured them both lowly paid internships at US media watch dog F.A.I.R. where they were tasked with an analysis of the media's performance of what became known in certain circles as "Death Race 2000" - the US presidential election of that year, contested by Messrs. Bush and Gore. Keats, having first looked into some of Chapman's homework, was duly impressed. "I enjoyed your analysis of the class of cornball stunts the candidates engaged in, attempting to woo Johnny Six-Pack at the 11th hour", he said over a pastrami on rye from Leibowitz' Deli in the green pastures of MIT one lunchtime, "in particular that one when Gore tried to play the bongos, as if to emulate Big-Bill with his sax". Chapman demurred on the compliment as he toyed with the meatball sub from Ciccioni's, lamenting the Bushified state of the world at that time compared to what it might have been had Gore won (thus engaging, unknowningly in an act of weldtschmertz), replying "Not only did Gore play the drums superbly, and completely in time with the professional band hired for the occasion, with no rehearsal, but he was, hands down, the winner of that evening's debate - in fact, the lucidity of his arguments, his step by step demolition of his opponents attempts at logic, could be taken as a generic template of organised, constructed thought processes".

"Oh, well, that explains the headlines I've been reading in the archives from the following days analyses myself, as part of my research then", replied Keats, slowly and somewhat reluctantly putting his pastrami on rye down, edging away from Chapman on the bench in the park.

Chapman squinted nervously at the clock tower as it chimed one and the sun, suddenly dazzling, emerged from behind a scudding summer cloud. "What headlines?", he asked, fatalistically. Keats was already standing, backing away slowly as he said, "Why the LA Times, New York Times, and the Washington Post all lead with one version or another of:

'Al Gore: Rhythmically Correct'.

Chapman resigned his internship the next day and went back to sweeping up the streets. Keats is still missing.

To boldly go (where no Daily Mail columnist has gone before)

2010-11-24T17:08:00.000-08:00

Melanie Phillips was on the moral maze the other night "discussing" the issue of how far you can take civil disobedience. I never thought I'd say it, but I was reminded of Captain James Tiberius Kirk, as he sails around the Galaxy, paying dutiful lip service to Star Fleet's (Fleet Street's?) Prime Directive (mis-Directive), and blithely ignoring it whenever it suited his, or the plot devices purposes. Suffice to say, "the rule of law" must be paramount, unless there's some sort of fundamental malaise at the heart of British law (if the outcome is wrong).

Here's just a couple of examples of where in "liberal democracies" (funny how only the right ever seem to use that phrase), even democracy and due process wasn't enough:

- the abolition of the GLC

- the nullification of the referendum on Scottish independence

- the Irish rejection of the Lisbon treaty

- the 1918 general election had essentially the same suffrage as Britain today. 75% (an "overwhelming majority") of all Irish parliamentary seats were won by the separatist Sinn Fein party. Far from holding up their hands to acknowledge due process, the rule of law, and the triumph of democratic will on display, the British Government went to war to defeat the democratic outcome of the election.

- the Chagossian Islanders have won the right to return to their land from the highest judicial bodies in the UK, having legally pursued their case through the appropriate avenues, yet still have not been allowed to return, even just to die there, never mind live. Where is the rule of law there?

- in international law, due process and the rule of law that demands Israel return to it's 1967 borders (uncontroversially, incidentally).

How do you like them apples?

And these are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head - some one that can string a half decent argument together, unlike me, could probably do a hell of a lot better than this.......

GUBU

2010-11-24T16:46:00.000-08:00

Perplexed, perplexing and above all POLITE.

That's how I'd be forced to describe reaction in the House of Commons to Chancellor George Osborne's announcement that the British Government was providing a £7billion line of credit to the Irish government. MPs for some reason seemed deflated as opposed to outraged as Osborne outlined the details, and on the whole seemed perplexed by this, as if, this late on in the financial crisis, who's going to miss a few extra billion squandered on the Irish? Like - "where did I leave my biro again - oh never mind, I'm sure I'll pick one up from behind the sofa".

Personally, I found this utterly perplexing.

Not one outraged Tory back bencher, not one quippicism about this is how we repay them for all those years of bombs and terrorism and so on. Even John Redwood could only bestir himself enough to hope that Britain wasn't going to start lending money directly, all over the place. There was even a half hearted attempt to suggest a bit of usury wouldn't go amiss, as one MP hoped the chancellor would be charging the Irish more interest than we're paying on our loans. Osborne was aghast - what an ungentlemanly idea (money through trade, how awful). Definitely, this is the politest I've heard the Commons on such a contentious issue in a very long time.

What left me simultaneously perplexed, and I still find perplexing, but definitely doesn't leave me feeling polite, is the question as to why Osborne's sudden magnanimity? "To help a friend in need". Oh dear. The last time a I recall a politician lip-synching THAT phrase prominently it was Blair in Washington at Bush's side. And we all know how well things went after THAT.

Oh well, I suppose all those UK based hedge funds and banks with massive exposures to what are now state owned Irish banks teetering precariously on the brink of implosion are just going to have to live with the consequences of their poor investment decisions.

NAAAAAAHHHHHHT.

Miracles will never cease......

2010-11-24T15:57:00.000-08:00

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/belief/2010/sep/14/sex-death-poisoned-heart-religion

In general, Polly Toynbee and I can't find much to agree on, but in her role as head of the British Humanist society, we are on safe mutually compatible ground.

Take this article for example, which has a number of excellent points:

"All atheists now tend to be called "militant", yet we seek to silence none, to burn no books, to stop no masses or Friday prayers, impose no laws, asking only free choice over sex and death"(I would add education to that as well)
"Women's bodies are the common battleground, symbols of all religions' authority and identity. Cover them up with veil or burka, keep them from the altar, shave their heads, give them ritual baths, church them, make them walk a step behind, subject them to men's authority, keep priests celibately free of women, unclean and unworthy. Eve is the cause of all temptation in Abrahamic faiths. Only by suppressing women can priests and imams hold down the power of sex, the flesh and the devil"
"Wherever male cultural leaders hold absolute and unscrutinised power, women and children will be abused. In western secular life this has at last been recognised: in schools, prisons, care homes and within families, wherever the powerless are unseen and unheard, horrors will happen without checks and transparency. Abusers gravitate towards closed organisations, and absolute power turns people into abusers"

All good points and true. Most of the reader comments on the article are pretty much in agreement, which is an astonishing thing with the Guardian, where trolls seem to abound......but there's always this canard (it's barely even that), that always surfaces:

"Funny isn't it, that Polly pontificates from on high, the High Priestess of her own little cult..."

I've been struggling for some time with this type of "argument", both to understand it, and to formulate some sort of response.

I find it difficult to respond to this because it isn't even an argument - when asked Chomsky says the same of the question "do you support the troops" - I mean what does that mean, it's like asking do you support the people of Berkshire - it's quite a difficult thing to make sense of.

"Atheism is it's own religion/cult, Dawkins, Toynbee, Dennett they are the high priests of their own cult, with followers blindly believing every word and hanging on every utterance". Is that the implication (imprecation)?

I mean: that doesn't constitute a proper argumentative statement of defence or attack on any proposition does it? If that depiction ("cult/high priests/blind followers") is supposed to belittle the idea or invalidate the arguments of atheism by characterising it as what RELIGION IS, then that invalidates all religions as consisting of equally blind followers, and therefore not to be taken seriously, or useless somehow, doesn't it?

If on the other hand that depiction is supposed invalidate the essential argument of what atheism is, then it's a complete and utter failure too, because it doesn't at all address any of the arguments for atheism, it's merely an ad hoc attack on those who espouse the idea - it must be a stupid idea because it's followers are stupid, somehow. Or perhaps the idea is that atheism seeks to rid the world of religion, yet in doing so seeks to replace religion with religion by another name, and therefore is self-defeating? Or is it - even people that profess not to believe in a god end up opting for blind faith, hence it must be a good idea, so let's just stick to good old timey religion in the first place?

Sorry, I know this is unutterably tedious. Am I missing something - this progresses nothing, it helps nothing, it means nothing.

I mean who is making this argument, and from what point of view? Certainly atheists are unlikely to make this kind of argument.

Anyone that believes in fairy stories or religion SHOULDN'T make this argument, as detailed above - in most cases it weakens their position even more.

Is it supposed to be a wry twinkle in the eye, agnostic (as opposed to religious, as if there were such a thing) witticism, along the "a plague on both your houses" lines? Or, is it supposed to mean: "inevitably, you atheists, in attempting to decry and invalidate and attack religion, you end up replacing it with a 'religion' of your own, which you call atheism - ahaha?" There's no rationality to this point. Clearly atheism isn't religion - it's the antithesis. This is possibly the only point of view form which this might make sense - agnosticism. Unfortunately for the agnostic the contention that we can't know one way or another if supernatural beings exist also applies to the flying spaghetti monster (blessed be his meatballs) and the invisible green mushroom people living at the bottom of my garden that have revealed themselves only to me and through me to the rest of the world. At which point we come to realise we CAN know something, pretty much, about the world after all, although it is always a good idea to keep an open mind when new evidence arises, and we can tidily discard agnosticism to the litter bin of ideas from whence it should never have been rummaged.

I mean: is the idea that atheism is a religion and people like Dawkins have "cult followings" supposed to be paradoxical? Is that it? Calling atheists "cult followers" of e.g. Dawkins is clearly just a dysphemism for "people who agree with your point of view". It's an attempt to dismiss the fact that Dawkins isn't the only atheist in the world, an attempt to imply that the only people that agree with him are hapless blind idiots who just believe what he says because he's the one saying it! Sound familiar church-goers?

In fact, after Christianity, "no religion" is the highest single grouping in the last UK Census (Christians 70% allegedly, non believers 15% - the next largest is something like Muslims around 2-3%).

Are people who happen to think the same way as Dawkins, Dennett et al, or have the same or just vaguely similar views about religion and the probable non-existence of god, are they all supposed to NOT believe in supernatural deities in their own unique individual way, like it was some kind of personalised non-belief in something that doesn't exist?

The other thing I struggle with is this ad hominem attack - "Dawkins is very arrogant". It dumbfounds me - who cares? Why does anyone care? Maybe he's a nice guy, maybe he's a petty tyrant, I don't know and I don't care - it's got nothing to do with the quality of his arguments, which are pretty much impeccable as far as I can see. I certainly haven't seen it in all the stuff I've ever read or viewed, or when I've seen him speak in person, and yet it's constantly bleated by anyone and everyone and yet no one can give me an example of it (and few can even supply the dictionary definition of arrogant either).

So what? Even if he is the most arrogant person alive: he's not beating down your door - you don't have to listen to him, and it says nothing about his arguments. If you want to understand his point of view, without listening to how presumptuous, overbearing, over confident in his abilities he is, to you personally, for some reason, there are plenty of other prominent and even not so prominent people you can listen to or read with similar views and arguments, that maybe, poor baby, awwwww, tickums, that you can listen to dat wont huwt your iddy biddy feewings or make you feew siwwy.......

I mean you can even go to a priest, imam or rabbi and THEY can tell you what the atheist arguments are if you like, probably.......Or is it that inherently people know they are so insecure in their "belief systems" that any questioning or arguments against them, because they are so weak, will destroy them, so by definition, the atheist is arguing from a position of strength, which must therefore be interpreted as a personal affront, as arrogance, and therefore invalid, otherwise the whole house of cards comes tumbling down?

Look at this: this is the sad reality of the world. If you trade in glib, meaningless propaganda, you can get away with making ludicrous, utterly meaningless statements that nobody even thinks about. If you want to make a rational argument, you have to spend time deconstructing it, analysing it, and building up some sort of logical framework against what are essentially illogical non-sequiteurs. Proj John Abrahams has shown how laborious a task it can be to prove and debunk even the most egregious of lies of a known charlatan like Chris (aka Lord) Monckton. Unfortunately it seems that it's precisely the likes of the latter that are given the lion's share of the mainstream print and airwaves.

Even plain refuting this kind of nonsense about "militant" atheism, or "cult atheist followers" takes more time than anyone would ever be given in a TV studio to explain, never mind actually constructing a decent logical framework or basis for discussion and argument.

Diary of an infrequent commuter

2010-11-18T16:44:00.000-08:00

On a wet windy november morning, when normally I'd be hauling my ass up Crouch Hill on my bike, I ended up public-transporting it to work.

There were massive queues for the bus to Finsbury Park, so I decided to walk to Haringey mainline railway station (there's my first big mistake right there). However crowded the bus stop or the busses might have been, at least they are regular, and eventually the crowd dissipates. Two trains came without so much as room to stuff a small rolled up plastic bag into. Some woman started losing the rag with all the people on the train - she was screaming at people standing to move down the train. To be fair, people not moving down is a pet hate of mine too - right alongside New York taxi drivers that habitually lean on their car horns for very little purpose, reason or effect. If you've ever wondered why people "go postal" in the US so often, it's the leaning on the horns. Oh yeah.

No one was moving down of course, but to be fair, it wouldn't have made a lot of difference. She left in disgust. I thought it was quite amusing - like seeing someone trying to beat back the tide. I left the train station in pursuit of "alternative means of reaching my destination" in a damp, if wistfully philosophical mood, which is about as good as anyone can ask for on a day like that.

I let the 2 trains go like that then decided to walk to Manor House at about 08:30, so I got drenched in the walk up to it past Finsbury Park....

In the train station there was a repeating announcement: "The 08:02 to Moorgate is delayed because of adverse weather conditions". It was raining. Since when is "rain" adverse weather?

They seem to like playing a little game. At 08:10 they said "The 08:02 will be approximately 15 minutes late". Then at 08:17 an automated announcement said "The 08:02 will be approximately 18 minutes late". Then at 08:20 is said "The 08:02 will be approximately 20 minutes late". I thought maybe there was some mathematical significance to the asymptotic nature of the estimated times of arrival of the train. I began to feel quite excited by the impending proximity of the 08:02, driven, apparently, by Zeno of ancient Grecian paradox fame.

I went to the ticket office to see if I could get my oyster card unresolved journey, un-unresolved. A guy in the queue ahead of me asked the guy at the counter, "Is there some problem with the trains?".

"Yeah", I said, "40 yeas of chronic under funding and systemic withholding of infrastructure investment".

To top it all off, I'm sitting at work in my runners - I forgot to bring my shoes. That's what happens when you mess with your routine.

Begorrah! Is dat a cliche I see before me?

2010-11-17T16:40:00.000-08:00

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/ghost-estates-and-broken-lives-the-human-cost-of-the-irish-crash-2136104.html

A nice vignette from this piece:

......Like many others, Mr O'Hara's anger is aimed at the banks, which have already been bailed out and seem destined to force the government to seek further help of some kind from Ireland's European partners. "Everyone is responsible for their own actions, but the burden is being brought to bear on the people on the end of the line. In Ireland right now, it's better to owe ¤50m than ¤50,000. The people who have sinned the most are suffering the least," he said, sitting in his cottage along the borderlands between Leitrim and Sligo, in the boggy north-west of the country. "I don't know what's coming, but I know what we've got isn't going to stay. I've lost all faith and confidence in our system."..........


"In the boggy north west"?

We've cottage and pottage of all shapes and sizes
New builds and custom jobs, lovely devizes
We've landscapes and seascapes rugged vistas the besht
And eye-sore eshtates in the boggy north wesht.

We've wee-men and he-men twinkly-eyed ten-a-penny,
Hurl-wielding shillelagh swinging leprechauns from Kilkenny
We've peat-soft, dew-eyed lachrymose poets the besht

In our culchie-ful, cliché-ridden, boggy north-wesht.

You can't swing a thing like a cat round your head

Without braining a virginal coleen awling stone dead

You can dance at the cross roads decked out in your besht

Till you're neck deep in debt in our boggy north-wesht.

Bum Notes

2010-10-16T05:28:00.000-07:00

Keats had begun to notice Chapman's absence on successive occasions from their regular Tuesday evening's libations and challenged him on the reason at their next sitting (Wednesday). "I am", Chapman confessed shyly, "engaged with a musical society for the purposes of a performance of the Bach B Minor Mass, at Westland Row, this coming Easter Sunday". Keats was duly impressed, and was eager for more details.

It transpired that Chapman had been drafted in by a friend of the brother's, as a favour to the choir master, to supplement a flagging bass section. "Oh the in-fighting and egos are something shocking", opined Chapman, conspiratorially. "I wouldn't mind, but as a choir, they're alright, but they aren't that good". Keats requested an example of the in-bitchery ongoings. "At the other night's practice", replied Chapman, "the conductor and first fiddle became incensed at each other over a major difference in the interpretation of the Ave. Neither would back down in the standoff, and it descended into a regular ould slagging match. It was", he offered, "most undignified".

Keats, as he supped gently from his porter was heard to murmur, "Sounds like a real bun fight at the ok chorale". Chapman wrinkled his nose, muttered something about the stout being off, and left to seek some scampi fries.

NAMA NAMA NAMA NAMA NAMA Chameleon

2010-10-15T10:02:00.000-07:00

What with Claridges being in the news this week, as it's being sold by NAMA, the bad bank agency of the Irish government (due to a complicated web of indebtedness woven by Derek Quinlan, an Irish property "magnate"), I resurrected this review from some time ago, previously unpublished.

A Sunday, early evening reservation was the best time we could get for GR@Claridge's recently, but we accepted it gratefully. We started off in the bar with champagne and cocktails and some delicious nibbles - pricey at 20 quid, but easing us nicely into the evening.

From there we found our way into the wonderfully decorous, art deco
interior of Claridge's - every where you look being a visual treat although I have to confess I'm a big art deco fan. Immediate impressions were of a large, lavish, comfortable relaxed dining room with attentive and professional service. Starting with some pink champagne (I've had better aperitif's mind you) we surveyed the menus and a wine list as thick as a phone book. Our waiter was helpful in suggesting a set menu which we both opted for in the end, and we dialled up a Baudoc from the bewilderingly large list when our original choice turned out to be unavailable.

Our menu comprised 3 starters, which were more amuse bouches in size - melon soup with a crab dressing - deliciously cool and creamy; great foie gras; and then scallops with Jerusalem artichokes - the scallops were of excellent quality drizzled in a light caramel sauce and cooked just right and still intensely hot at the table. The Baudoc we had was a superb accompaniment and crispy-cold so we were getting along very nicely at this point.

Call me a nit-picker, but the service went a bit downhill here. This may have been a function of the location of our table - right in the corner near to some tills and napkin reservoirs, and the constantly hovering waiters were beginning to annoy. My pet hate is having my wine glass topped up by waiters. In fact, in the technical book of service etiquette, waiters should never refill a glass unless asked, so I have protocol on my side here.

Anyhow, mains were a choice of duck or pork and we both opted for duck - which was faultless: cooked exactly as I asked (pink) with a delicious crispy salty skin. It also had a revelatory accompaniment of turnip no less, that I heartily enjoyed. My girlfriend had a champagne soup with strawberries, which was allegedly nice, but I didn't get offered any, so it must have been. There was a great selection of horrendously smelly cheeses, upon which I fell and wrought much desolation.

The coup de grace was a superb "out of the firkin" crème brulee with rhubarb ice cream and some crunchy rhubarb sticks. I thought the rhubarb worked well, but Piggly Wiggly was indifferent to it, but agreed on the quality of the crème brulee. Coffee and petits fours followed in the foyer/lounge, as we had to give up our table for 8pm. All in all, including wine, service and drinks we ended up about 260 quid out of pocket.

Was it worth it ? Well I cannot fault any of the food at all - the service was, if anything, too attentive and the surroundings sublime. The huge disappointment for me was the extent of the menu: large but most definitively a "hotel" menu. In our terms that translates as "standard", "safe" and, if I'm going to call it like it is, "boring". There wasn't one thing there I hadn't had a dozen times before in other (albeit inferior quality) restaurants. There wasn't a single "wow factor" dish at all. Not one thing that would make you say "yukkk" or "wow I wonder what that's like?" or "that must be horrible - how can you have X and Y on the same plate?". In short, the menu was decidedly unadventurous.

Which may be fine if you're wanting to impress a picky eater, or you want a reliable lunch spot for an important family get together, but not if you want what Keith Floyd once called a "gastonautic experience".

Bibendum Late Than Never

2010-10-15T09:05:00.001-07:00

As a post "Messiah" performance treat, many moons ago, I was trying to book a table for 4 at 10pm on the last Friday before Xmas at a nice restaurant and not having any joy at all. Until, that is, I tried Bibendum, and got the reservation I wanted. Pre service indications were good - I got a phone call on the day confirming the reservation and when I said we might be a little late as we had to come from a performance, they assured me there was no problem. As it happens we arrived punctually, but were kept waiting for 10 minutes before being seated, for which the management were profusely apologetic and offered us some champagne on the house as we eventually sat down. Which was a nice and appreciated touch so we were happy.

The surroundings were wonderful - amazing art deco posters, terrific stained glass Michelin man windows, and really comfortable relaxed seating, and a pleasant buzz about the dining room. We had our orders for food and wine taken promptly by unobtrusive staff, which was again appreciated as we were pretty deep in conversation at this point. One universal quibble was, as with, it seems, all Conran restaurants, the menu is ridiculously hard to read and understand, written as it is in some semi-undecipherable hieroglyphics. The prices are staggeringly clear, though, and could cause the faint hearted some palpitations, so be warned this is an expensive restaurant. Plenty of bread, crisps (highly unusual in my experience) and some very tasty olives were proffered as starter nibbles.

I had goujons of plaice to start with a coriander vinegar, as did one other person, and the other starters were a half dozen oysters and a plate of mussels. The oysters with shallot vinegar were probably the best bet of the starters, although somewhat pricey (at about £18), and got necked without being offered around. In fact, most of the starters ranged between £10-25, and there was quite a good selection. The mussels were pronounced to be an unenthusiastic "ok", and the plaice goujons were actually very good - deep fried but not at all fatty, although I found them and the vinegar a little bland.

The main course selection did provide some challenging dishes - of these our foursome were generally quite unadventurous - two of us went for the peppered fillet steak (expensive at about £25, and that did not include any sides). One of us went for haddock and chips, which, enormous and tasty though it was, was left unfinished. The real gastronaut amongst us though went for kidneys and black pudding on a bed of cabbage with gravy. Having tasted a bit I was extremely sorry I didn't go for it myself - it was utterly delicious, and even though my steak was a perfectly cooked mouth wateringly thick piece of excellent meat, with an rich intense meaty jus, it was as nought in comparison with the chocolately offal textures and flavours. Sides of boiled potatoes and spinach were good, but expensive additions to the main dish.

Dessert for me was a superb crème brulee, although there was still a little un-bruleed sugar around the edges if I were being picky. Coffee followed. The whole thing including service came to more that £200 for 4, including an excellent bottle of South African red. Our bill took a very long time to obtain though, because of some faulty machinery - we ended up paying with one of those old fashioned manual card impression swipers, and received a Bibendum Michelin man ash tray for all our troubles.

Given the surroundings, the quality of the food, wine list and particularly our experience of the service, that's really not that bad as we've often unwittingly ended up paying a lot more for a lot worse in London. This may lack the theatre crowd and occasional famous thespian that the other Conran we've been to might sport (The Almeida in Islington), but we found the service better, and the quality a notch or two above it's Islington cousin, if a little more formal.

More than just a hat stand

2010-10-15T01:08:00.000-07:00

Keats was berating Chapman one evening on account of his appearance. "It ill behooves men of both our status and position in society to be seen in such states of deshabillment: you look", he opined, "like the wreck of the Hesperus". In particular he took issue with Chapman's hat. "That...thing", he said, "beggars belief. The arse", he noted, "is gone out of the elbow of it years ago; it's on it's last legs, indeed has surpassed them. It is, in short, an ex-hat".

Chapman balked at the suggestion he should be rid of the foul piece of apparel. He waxed lyrical about how he and the hat had been such constant companions over the years, how it had sheltered his bonce through both fair weather and foul, and how it was more a part of him than many of his bodily appendages, how it would be such a wrench to be parted from such a dear friend, never mind to simply cast it aside now he has spent it's usage. "If only", he said, waxing whimsical, "there were some place, a land, fair and bright, that my hat could retire to; a kindly home, a state for the dispossessed hats of the world, to unite, to live out their final days in peace and harmony....."

Keats noted that if such a place did exist that it would probably, owing to the many varieties of hats demanding their own say in it's affairs, be constituted as a Fedoration. Chapman binned the offending rag.

Movie (b/m)adness

2010-10-14T17:16:00.000-07:00

Keats was regaling Chapman one evening after having attended a lecture in his ongoing Masters in Film Studies at the local tech, with an anecdote relating to the '70's penchant for the "cast of thousands epic block buster star studded war film", a genre unto itself, it seems. The film in question was "A Bridge Too Far".

"Yes", continued Keats, "it seems that the original 'directors cut', was 4 and a half hours long, and was unpopular with test audiences who required the use of their legs after the performance. The hack-producers demanded slimming down by a couple of hours, but when re-shown to the test audiences, such was the severity of the cuts, no one could understand the plot".

"Ah yes", offered Chapman from behind the Evening Press, as he scrunched noisily to the Ask the Experts column, "abridged too far".

You're all just a bunch of scruffy nerf-herders

2010-10-10T15:39:00.000-07:00

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/feb/07/robin-mckie-benny-peiser-climate?showallcomments=true#end-of-comments

Benny Peiser says:

"While I reject economically damaging and, for that reason, politically unattainable climate policies, I am in favour of adapting to a changing climate and making our societies more resilient, as mankind has throughout its existence. "

Peiser is personally entitled to reject "economically damaging" policies to tackle climate change, but he is NOT entitled to the non-sequiteur that they are therefore "politically unattainable". As far as I am concerned, bailing out failed banks is very economically damaging (short, medium and long term), yet somehow that's "politically attainable".

In other words, he has no monopoly on the definition of what is economically damaging; and what's politically attainable is not his unilateral decision. Turkeys can vote for Christmas, if the alternative is ending up as foie gras. If society decides to damage HIS (by definition short term) economic interests (and/or mine) for the sake of long term avoidance of the impact of climate change, so be it. The fact that he is "in favour of adapting to a changing climate....." is the same as saying he is in favour of wrapping up warm when it's cold out i.e. he is saying and advocating precisely nothing. Of course we're not REALLY talking about his or my economic interests, we're talking about Lawson et al's economic interests, aren't we?

If Peiser can make associations like "climate change policies are economically damaging" then anyone can. "Climate change policies are economically favourable" because they include the introduction of new forms of technology giving rise to new jobs in brand new economic sectors. That's just as likely to be correct and/or just as easy to argue. Not to mention that when ever it happens, and it will, fossil fuels will run out: "Early adaptors of alternative technologies will benefit, in the same way as early adaptors of fossil fuel economics did." See? I can make up baseless assertions that sound like they make sense as well as Peiser. Which is why we have the scientific method. Peiser's assertions about the nature of the credibility of climate science are just that - assertions with no basis in fact.

What's interesting though is that he appears so embedded (of course, given his job), his implicit assumptions make clear to the rest of us what we really need to understand:

The political process is so corrupt that it can't represent the interests of ordinary people, so hijacked has it been by vested short term interests. If you want something done about climate change, voting labour, tory, lib dem or green wont help. It's only through sustained grass roots activism akin to the abolitionist movement, or the civil rights or anti-war movements in the US in the '60's that sufficient change will take place. These examples show us it can, even in the teeth of the vicious guard-dogs slavering to "protect" us from "economic damage".

His late stage denialist position: "ok, global warming can occur due to anthropogenic CO2, but it wont be as bad as they say" is the "modern dinner-party denialist about town" fall back stance of surprisingly many otherwise well educated but, crucially, innumerate middle class opinion formers. Over ciabatta they opine: "Global warming, oh sure that exists, but predicting the future, computer models, what's all that about? I'm sure it can't be as bad as all that". How long will it take for the fall back to the "ok, global warming is real, and it will be bad as you said, BUT ......" stance?

Quod Erat Demonstrandum

2010-10-04T15:52:00.000-07:00

Descending the lift from work the other day, I noticed a guy get on carrying a book. As you do, I glanced down to scan the title and was instantly intrigued: "How to win every argument". It's rather an out of character thing for me to do, but I couldn't help myself spontaneously opine to the guy, whom I didn't know, since we were otherwise bereft of company for the duration of the trip, "That's fundamentally a pretty dishonest book isn't it?". He seemed puzzled but said "Well, actually it's really interesting, I'm finding it really useful. But why would you say it's dishonest?".

"Well", I replied, "you can't always justifiably win every argument since can't always be right, can you?". He pondered this for a while, as the doors pinged and we reached the ground floor. Then he said as we went our separate ways, somewhat wistfully I thought: "You can't always be wrong either though can you?".

As I descended the escalator to the tube I pondered this: "Hmmm. Stalemate", I reasoned.

So much for the book.

Saville, Journalism and The People of the Planet Bias

2010-06-20T08:58:00.000-07:00

The (American) comedian Greg Proops once said "They say Americans don't 'get' irony - that's because we're too busy manufacturing it". I think it might be appropriate, now that the Saville Inquiry has been published, to replace "Americans" with "politicians", or perhaps even "the British Establishment" in that joke. At least I like to think of it as a joke, otherwise I'm sure my head would just explode in a fit of apoplexy that would be visible from the other side of the galaxy.

In the first instance, who can't feel relieved at the palpable sense of justice the families of the victims of the Paras have at last achieved. Max Hastings, being interviewed by James Naughtie on the Today program on 14-Jun said that he had refused to give evidence to the Saville Inquiry on the grounds that, even though he was present in Derry on the day of the massacre, interviewing members of the Parachute regiment, as it happens, it was so long ago and his memory so vague, he didn't think he could contribute. And that's why, he followed on, there should be no further actions whatever the results of the inquiry - it was so long ago all the testimony must be unreliable. Well he would say his memories are vague wouldn't he? He didn't see loved ones gunned down for nothing other than exercising their right to assembly, or attempting to go to the aid of someone gunned down. I've no doubt that the victims and relatives of those gunned down that day, and many of those who were there, have relived that experience every day of their lives since then, indeed some have suffered physically, never mind emotionally, every day of their lives since receiving their injuries. Had Hastings suffered the same fate, I'm sure his memories of the day would be vivid. Naughtie, in true BBC Radio 4 'Today' style, either allowed this horrifically uncomprehending comment to slide, or is of such a similar world view that he saw nothing wrong with it.


Of course the BBC rolled into false bias overtime. I saw 3 former members of the armed forces, in the interests of balance, don't you know what what, in one report all saying the same thing - and I'm paraphrasing - "you have to remember the context of the time in which this incident took place". I saw a former senior commander of the Paras make that his entire statement to the press, essentially. Indeed it's true - the context at the time was a peaceful civil rights march during which completely innocent civilians were massacred. Most of these journalists probably genuinely don't see anything wrong with their reportage. In a recent medialens (www.medialens.org) alert, BBC journalist Jonathan Marcus was challenged about why he had presented the deaths of civilians in international waters as a "public relations disaster" for Israel - an archetypal blandification of the events which implicitly makes it seem like a minor faux pas in international etiquette: someone had turned their back on the queen, or forgot to invite the ambassador's wife to a garden party. He seemed genuinely, not so much aghast, more quizzical and puzzled as to how anyone could think this was an appalling way to present the facts. In his response "I am the Diplomatic Correspondent here and my task was to look at the diplomatic/political ramifications of this incident" it's very clear - he just has no comprehension of the idea that "turnabout is fair play". If, when you substitute "Hamas" for "Israel" in the context of the report, you wouldn't ever entertain the thought of submitting the copy, then don't do it! That would be "fair and balanced". It's not so much that he's puzzled by this, it's just beyond his comprehension. Journalists like this remind me of the people of the planet Krikkit in the Douglas Adams novel, 'Life the Universe and Everything, who just had no concept of "up". When they heard a noise coming from the sky they looked everywhere - just not in the one place it was coming from - "up".

And so to David Cameron's statement to the House of Commons: "unjustified and unjustifiable" - ok. Thanks for that Dave. But he went even further - the government, he said, is ultimately responsible for the actions of the armed forces, and went on to apologise for Bloody Sunday. Well that's a pretty significant step, isn't it? Except that, on the basis of the best (the only) scientific estimates we have, the US lead, UK backed, illegal, unwarranted invasion of Iraq cost the lives of in excess of 1 million people (not 14), and displaced many millions more. No one wants to put "measures" on human suffering, but one can only assume that if Cameron actually meant what he said about government being responsible for the actions of armed forces, the entirety of the previous Labour government would right now be on trial. Not to mention that the most strenuous diplomatic and economic sanctions and embargoes would be placed on the state of Israel, on the basis that that government (who are, remember, directly responsible for the actions of it's armed forces, which includes security forces) are responsible for forging British passports for use in a murder, and the murder of 9 civilians on the high seas and the wounding of many more. This isn't even to get into the most recent massacre in Gaza, previous Lebanon wars, Sabra and Chatila, Qana and so on. And if we start to take account of, for example, Wiki-leaks evidence of murder in Iraq, then we can count the Bush Administration in as well. The list goes ever on it seems.

One wonders, on a separate point, what exactly would Israel have to do in order to incur any genuinely strenuous diplomatic and economic, or even rhetorical opprobrium from the US, UK, and their propaganda arm, the "lamestream" media, akin to that regularly dished out to the 'holocaust denying', 'Marxist firebrand', 'loony tunes' of Iran, Venezuela and North Korea respectively*? Murder US citizens? Nope, done that at least twice already. Massacre and/or facilitate the massacre of civilians - nope, done that. Illegally invade another country - nope. Commit war crimes during Gaza "incursions" - nope. Forge British passports and use them to murder someone in a third country - nope. Piracy and murder on the high seas - nope. What exactly would Israel have to do in order for the US to start to think about threatening to cut off at least some of it's military aid, or the UK to impose sanctions? I mean, how ridiculous would it have to get before it got unacceptable? Maybe if the IDF started invading the beaches of Galveston, slashing and burning on their way, we might see headlines like: "What a tragedy this is!", "What a PR disaster those dead Texans are for Israel", or "Israel has every right to defend itself from the threat posed by aggressive gun wielding Texans".

If you wonder why it is that Israel seems to act in such flagrant violation of what is perceived as the norm for international relations, consider this: the US State Department has what can be loosely termed a "mad man" strategy - it is an acceptable policy for the US to be unpredictable and in some cases vindictive, say state planners, as a matter of foreign policy, in order that other nations fear psychopathic reprisal for any perceived slights. This is the way to conduct yourself internationally, they "reason", to get what you want. The blatant nature of Israel's actions, and the seething underlying threat of it's nuclear weapons ("don't put me in the red man, I'll use 'em") seems to indicate they've taken a leaf out of the US state departments operating manual. I mean really, do you think it's beyond the wit of Mossad to assassinate someone in Dubai and NOT get caught on CCTV or using forged passports? The message is clear - "We can upset, and abuse the trust of our closes allies with impunity, AND kill whoever we want, wherever we want in the world, and we get to keep our nukes without so much as a peep from anyone, and no repercussions. Sorry, what were you saying about not being able to make my birthday party?".

Of course ultimately, what the Saville Inquiry tells you is that if you want to get an apology from the British Establishment for state violence or terror, even where everyone knows where responsibility lies and has done for years, the incident had better have happened in front of the entire world, in a media glare, and you'd better have 13 years and 200 million pounds at your disposal, because that's what it takes. Chagossian Islanders, and the rest of the world, take note.

*It's interesting that despite the best effort of the media and UK/UK axis to hype up the "external" threat that these countries supposedly pose (Iran and it's nuclear program, Venezuela and it's alleged incursions into Columbia, and North Korea and it's non-existent Belgrano-moment), nothing has managed to stick. Pretty much, even if these are "tyrannical dictatorships", which Venezuela certainly isn't, they haven't done anything outside their borders to upset anyone in particular.

There's no such thing as bad publicity, there is such a thing as a free lunch

2010-03-05T12:39:00.000-08:00

Take this very recent example, as a case in point, of how it would seem as if it's easy to dupe poor, unsuspecting, trusting, naive journalists and their editors:

I came across this on the Irish Independent's online site:

http://www.independent.ie/world-news/europe/frustrated-ryanair-passenger-eats-euro10000-winning-scratchcard-2084291.html

A quick google search revealed it has been picked up all over the place:

http://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&source=hp&q=ryanair+passenger+eats+winning+scratch+card&meta=&aq=f&oq=

I viewed a few of the articles: they are pretty much verbatim copies of each other. The BBC did at least have the decency to edit out the line saying that the passenger "should have availed of our range of tasty snacks" instead of eating his lottery ticket.

I haven't found any articles that appear to wonder whether or not this MAY be a publicity stunt. I mean it MAY have happened - some guy on a flight MAY have actually eaten, or appeared to eat, a scratch card that he claimed was a winner in front of people, and the crew MAY have confirmed it was a winning ticket.......

One or two comments on articles have suggested it was a publicity stunt with a hired actor.

But come on? Really? Doesn't this SOUND like it MIGHT just be a publicity stunt? I mean donating 10k to charity is a fine thing, but in return for this kind of free advertising? Isn't it a little obvious? I mean even if it is absolutely and genuinely true, who cares?

On the other hand, on the plus side, I did find the article useful as a) I didn't know Ryanair fly to Krakow, and b) they have a range of tasty snacks available on board that cost less than EUR10,000? Wow, who knew?

A google search for "Richard Gray" seems to indicate he may write for the Telegraph, as, or all things, a science correspondent, would you believe:

http://www.journalisted.com/richard-gray

http://blogs.journalism.co.uk/editors/tag/richard-gray/

I realise this isn't an earth shattering political revelation or anything, but aren't journalists supposed to be world weary cynics who've seen it all? Isn't this a bit blatant? Don't editorial filters shut this kind of thing out?

I think what this shows is that "yes, it really is THIS easy to manipulate the media".

Whenever a story fits the "dominant media narrative" (in these cases, pleasingly: 'Chavez is a loony' or 'Ryanair passengers are loony chavs') it appears as if it's surprisingly easy to get it widely publicized, irrespective of whether it's true or not, or whether there's any real evidence produced for it.

Tinkle, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

2010-03-03T15:13:00.000-08:00

I'm not one of those men who, to paraphrase Jane Austen, seeks to
recommend himself to members of the opposite sex by denigrating his own,
but let's face it: men, on the whole, are vulgar, unhygienic pigs. Take
for example basic toilet training. From my personal, lifelong experience
in the (proper) usage of men's conveniences, I've found that the
incidence of rigorous hand washing is sadly low. And I'm not just
talking about those of us in for quick shake of the lamb's tail either -
I mean when there's heavy duty action as well. It's horrifyingly common to
see men emerge from cubicles and exiting, strutting proudly without so
much as a nod towards the sink. I'm not even going to discuss the diets
of most men, which, on the basis of the acoustic fireworks detonating
from cubicle stalls, resembling not so much a natural activity but more
of a sustained mortar shell attack on a gas canister factory, seem to
comprise one fourth gun powder, one fourth semtex and one half vindaloo.

Anyhow, another vulgar habit many men have is spread-eagling themselves
when they sit down on the tube as if they're about to give birth to a
fully grown rhinoceros. I was the victim of this the other day on a
Victoria line tube. A flabby, clammy calf and thigh were thrust wide and
summarily pressed against my own, quite parallel knees. Now, even those
of us sporting the most tightly packed of lunch boxes don't need our
knees at such an obtuse angle. Rather than giving ground to this
encroachment, I decided it was time to take a stand and beat back the
aggressor. I gently but firmly applied pressure back. Slowly but surely
in a silent war of pressed thigh, I beat back the invader to his own
territory. Interestingly, the tremendous amount of jiggling that the
Victoria line does between Kings Cross and Highbury and Islington helped
quite a bit in regaining my lebensraum. It was only afterwards that it
occurred to me that pressing my thigh up against a strange man on the
tube could potentially be misconstrued. So blokes, if you find yourself
on a tube and you think someone is pressing up against your sweaty
calves and thigh, don't take it as an advance (or a threat) - just
readjust the angle of your knees please. And please don't offer to shake
hands.

Quo vadis with my chips, Quo Vaids?

2008-09-23T13:49:00.000-07:00

I can't honestly describe myself as a biblical person. In any sense of the phrase. However, my trip to Quo Vadis with Piggly Wiggly did leave me looking into the distance with a wistful, rueful, half smile, tinged with sadness, like some sort of iconic Madonna style stare into the middle distance, at the foot of a cross, like in some sort of Da Vinci masterpiece. A look, in short, that would have art critics guessing for hundreds of years as to the nature of that enigmatic, sad smile.

Fortunately, as this is food criticism, I can dispel any myth and cut straight to the chase: Qua Vadis, the recently refurbished restaurant and private club in Soho is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a religiously artistic transcendent experience. The décor on entering the vestibule is pleasantly hotel like, but we were left waiting while an inefficient host dealt repeatedly with queries from other people simply interposing themselves in front of us. Perched at a miniscule bar, we had pre-dinner drinks while our table was prepared. We'd arrived deliberately a little early to have a drink, but we were left wondering why the hostess was at huge pains to encourage a non-member of the "exclusive" bar upstairs to attempt a gate crash as "they weren't that busy anyway", while happily consigning us to the mere "ordinary" bar in the restaurant. Perhaps because he was wearing jeans and trainers, while we'd decided not to make an effort by donning our swanky restaurant gear? I admit I have an instinctive dislike for the idea of exclusive bars and clubs, particularly where the exclusivity is based purely on paying £500 per year, but the idea of one who's exclusivity depended on how busy it was felt like a real let down. Anyhow, the in-restaurant not-exclusive, you-don't-have-to-be-a-member bar, bar staff were on-song at least - the martini was pronounced most satisfactory, and my glass of champagne was well chilled.

Once at table we were impressed by the refurbished décor, the generous leg room and space available at the table, and the substantial wine list. The room was pleasantly buzzing, with an admittedly older crowd, and, on a fairly sultry night, was very well air conditioned without being chilly. Not like that hole L'atelier Joel Rebouchon, with it's tacky black faux lacquered surfaces, miniscule tables with barely room for a cigarette thin flower vase, and obfuscating clamour and noise. The menu augured well: it was going to be very difficult to decide between the seafood and the remaining meatier dishes - in the end we decided to have our cake and eat it, so to speak. We ordered half a dozen oysters, in case we got famished before the starters arrived, and I opted for courgette flowers, and Piggly-Wiggly went for Scottish chanterelles in garlic. I'm not quite sure why they should be identified as "Scottish" - perhaps we were expected to sample the brawny aftertaste of the homely fingers of the kilt-clad fungus foragers or something.

Our wine (a Californian zinfandel, Ridge Geyserville, which we first sampled in New York with an amazing crispy duck, but that's another story) arrived with such alacrity, I mean it was amazingly quick, we suspected that they had staff on standby holding a bottle or everything on the wine list, ready to sprint to the table. Nit-picking aside about the needless frippery on fancy restaurant menus (pan fried - how else can you fry something; diver caught scallops; Scottish chantarelles; succulent morsels etc) the starters and oysters were pretty good. I suspected the oysters may have been pre-shucked, as they seemed to be immersed in brimming puddles of briney delight, which said to me they'd been oozing for quite some time, but nonetheless they can't have been that old as they were pronounced by Piggly Wiggly, the best oysters she'd had quite a while. I objected to this as we'd had some damn good ones in Dublin very recently, but again, I'm nit picking. The courgette flowers were nicely stuffed with feta and deep fried, and had an excellent smoky pepper and tomato salsa. The chanterelles were meaty and tasty, but I felt a over salted and too garlicy. Nonetheless we were left with a pleasant sense of expectation of our main course.

Our waiter had informed us that the rib for 2 came with chips, so we ordered a side of vegetables each, and sat there slaveringly anticipating our meeting with the meet. When it came, just at the point when we were beginning to wonder where it was, it was briefly presented to us on a plank, before being whisked away to be sliced and diced for us. We accepted the waiter's recommendation to err on the medium side, but what arrived was definitely rare. What didn't arrive however, were our chips, or steak knives, both of which we ended up having to ask for, when we managed to get a waiter's attention.

You may have had the great fortune to have visited the Michelin starred Peter Luger's in New York, situated in Brooklyn, just across the Manhattan Bridge - undeniably the greatest steak house experience I've ever had. Very similar cuts of beef cooked and served to an orgasmic, sizzling, perfection. The plates are so hot, it almost demands a health and safety waiver just to get into the place. Looking back on the 3 or 4 times we'd been there, the key thing that comes to mind is how perfectly cooked and HOT the meat was. Not only had Quo Vadis seen fit to leave the beef to rest (ok, that's all very proper) but it was then served on cold plates, resulting in the pre-sliced meat going cold very rapidly, a key pet-peeve of Piggly-Wiggly's, due to some peculiarities of her upbringing. Taken with the missing chips, the missing steak-knives (which arrived when we almost finished) and highly unremarkable sides of broccoli and spinach costing 5.20 and 4.50 respectively.

I mean SERIOUSLY - 5.20 for a small buttery dish of broccoli - Jamie Oliver feeds entire, admittedly entirely fictitious, Sainsbury's families of 5 for less than that, we were left in deep high dudgeon by the time we'd finished. We had to wait so long to be asked if we wanted desert that our ire raised to simply ask for the bill, in a manner as chilly as the plates our food had been served on. At £180 all told, with the temerity of 12.5% services included, we felt our hard earned spondoolicks had been fiendishly purloined. All in all, a deeply underwhelming experience - if we'd thought there was enough there to want to return we probably would have offered our comments, but as it is, we definitely wouldn't be returning, so, their look out! Our dismay perhaps reflects more on the idiot in the Times that gave it "9/10", raising expectation impossibly beyond what they should have been: but nonetheless, cold plates, I ask you?

Injection Reflection

2007-05-03T14:45:00.000-07:00

If I had Keira, I would, Knightly.

I murdered me wife and I danced up on top of her

2007-04-26T16:15:00.000-07:00

I murdered me wife and I danced up on top of her
I pounded her vicious till I made a big slop of her
Her insides and outsides all mixed in together
I souffled her brain: it was light as a feather

I roasted her haunch with with carrots and parsly
Twas tasty enough, and her arse crisped up nicely
I coddled her heart, ah!, as in life, that's the truth,
But her scleroticised arteries broke me front tooth,

Her liver, and kidneys, her spleen and her pancreas
I gave to the nieghbours, they haven't stopped thanking us
"Regards to the wife", "Much obliged" they say cordially,
Whilest washing her down with a '56 Beaujelais.

Her left over remains I wrapped up in bandages
I selected choice cuts for weeks worth of sandwiches
I smoked and I salted her, pickled her sides,
Made a fine pair of brogues with leather tanned from her hides

The moral in question needs no explanation
To murder your wife, study food preservation
To dispose of a body, don't just dig a hole,
Roll up your sleeves, do a nice casserole.

Toasty

2007-04-26T16:09:00.000-07:00

Lines written in dejection on hearing of a threat to the toaster

I

Oh woe to the woman who threatens our toast
For toasting's the thing that we treasure the most
To hellfire and brimstone that woman we sendy
Who champions the cause of the bread that is bendy

II

Let us boast of that fillet of loaf which is grilled
Here's a toast "With sliced, pan let our bellies be filled!"
But let it be roasted, golden brown on both sides
And to Hell with the heel that our toasting way chides.

III

To hellfire and brimstone and see it's done choppy
The heathen who said that our bread should be floppy
Watch it crispen and darken on the hearth sides of hell
So the damned on the hobs can munch toasty as well

Dermot Murnaghan has sex with limbless dwarves, and other baseless allegations

2007-04-26T15:17:00.001-07:00

I was at the Wolseley of Piccadilly at the weekend enjoying, on the whole, the
grandiose delightful art deco lacquered interior, and the food as well (apart
from a disappointing bouillabaisse and an overly familiar aussie waitress), with
my parents, girlfriend, sister and her fiancée, and my brother in law to be, a
celeb magnate extraordinaire. Shortly after my mother asked him - "well, where
are the celebs?", he pointed out none other than a besuited Dermot Murnaghan
ascending the lofty marble staircase to one of the more secluded dining areas of
the establishment, which used to be, I'm told a car sales showroom. The layers
of metaphor and appropriateness are piling up thick and fast, and I'll explain
why.

First off, the idea that a news reader is a "celebrity", with all of it's modern
connotations of vacuity, lack of talent, and banality, as opposed to, say, a
"thorn in the side of the establishment", or a "beacon of hope for the
oppressed",  or "the scourge of the criminal element", "a crusading champion of
consumer rights", says a lot about journalism and society. Why a news
reader/journalist warrants a secluded, exclusive table in a restaurant
presupposes anyone would be bothered accosting him. To be fair, I might, but it
wouldn't have been to tell him I think he's a lovely boy and would he mind
autographing my large print copy of the Reader's Digest.

In any event, this appearance precipitated an old argument between myself and my
sister about the nature of journalists, and their choice of careers. I
maintain choosing journalism as a career puts one at the heart of a system that's
perpetuating the myth that we do have a free press, and that's responsible for allowing
much of what happens in the world that we don't like, to happen. My sister's argument,
which I have to say I always find weak, is that as I work for a corporate investment
bank I'm in no position to cast aspersions on anyone's choice of career when it comes
to complaining about the state of chassis the world is in. She feels she gets to
say that because she's a teacher and left the moral low ground behind her the day
she quit her job at UPS.

Fair enough you might say, except for 2 critical points: first, journalists,
whatever they are, are just as much a part of the corporate morass as anyone. They
have to simper and smile at their bosses jokes and demands as much as we do.
How anyone in their right mind thinks that makes for valiant, independent
free-thinking fourth estaters hell bent on holding real power to account (never
mind the pathetic bit of authority your boss has for ordering up coffee and
biscuits for special team meetings)is beyond me.

Second, just look at the performance of the US and UK media in the run up to the
Iraq invasion - if that doesn't tell you about the servility of the corporate
media to state power, then I suppose nothing will.

So, in this beautiful, grandly converted restaurant and erstwhile car show room the
idea of Murnaghan as a dodgy, not to be trusted, second hand car dealer, flogging
clapped out lies that travel no further than off the property before collapsing
into a pile of junk and rubble, or at least allowing them through the door,
appeals, at least in the light his performance this morning on BBC Breakfast News
(Mon 23rd April).

At about 08:05, BBC Breakfast News aired what I think was a pre-recorded "interview"
with Tony Blair and Murnaghan. Yet again, Tony Blair, completely unchallenged by
this stalwart of robust independent journalism, passed off three blatant, baseless
allegations in as many minutes. It was said of Nixon that he could "lie out of both
sides of his mouth at the same time". Tony Blair it seems is managing something
similar, only from multiple orifices.

First, Murnaghan suggested that Saddam Hussein had "kept the lid" on sectarian
violence, and that kept Al Qaeda out of Iraq. Blair replied to the latter: "I'm
not so sure that he did".  This claim, which even Dick Cheney and George Bush no
longer try to push (in fact, they try to distance themselves from those original
comments) is now being recycled by Tony Blair, without so much as even the
faintest, meekest protest from our journalist friend. Would Murnaghan have been
going out on a limb to challenge this, when no credible security source has
never supported the notion of a link between Saddam Hussein and Al Qaeda?

Second, Blair also claimed that Iran was directly responsible for causing the
violence in Iraq. Again, this is the rehashing of an old BBC story which has had
no basis whatsoever in reality - there is no evidence for this - despite the US
army searching desperately for it.

Finally, Blair conflated the idea that Saddam Hussein had killed "hundreds of
thousands" of his own people with the idea of ongoing violence in Iraq, like the
ghost of Saddam was returning to plant roadside explosives and detonate suicide
bombs. Again, this was left completely unchallenged: there is no evidence that
"hundreds of thousands" of people died as a direct result of Saddam's
oppression. Thousands, certainly, according to Amnesty International, may be
even tens of thousands - he was a vicious and brutal dictator after all. I mean
why do you think the US and UK gave him the job of running Iraq in the first place?

On the other hand there is superbly documented, scientific evidence to suggest
that over 655,000 Iraqi's are dead as a direct result of the invasion in 2003,
not to mention the million or so excess deaths from the 10 years of sanctions
from 1991 to 2001. I should have thought that could have been mentioned, but no,
it literally seems that Fawlty Murnaghan wont "mention the war".

All of this Murnaghan was happy to let slide, maybe, and this is quite shocking
to contemplate, because he didn't even know that Blair was engaging in bare
faced, unsubstantiated claims, with no evidence at all to back up his wild
statements. Or maybe he did know, and just preferred to simper his way to the
end of the interview where he could say "thank you VERY much Prime Minister".
After all, he's probably got a mortgage or two, a life-style to maintain, and kids
to privately educate.

And I suppose you have to consider that ordinary plebs, those of us not elevated
to the lofty rarefied stratosphere of BBC News Readers, with all their
sophistication and "nuanced" ability to understand the "subtleties" and
"complexities" of the world, and deal on an equal footing with the wealthy and
the powerful, probably can't even get a table at the Wolseley!

Will I, wont I?

2007-04-26T14:41:00.000-07:00

An agnostic is one who hasn't the strength of his or her own lack of conviction.

Breakfast Buffer Zones

2007-04-22T10:38:00.000-07:00

I sat idly musing on the tube this morning, minding my own business listening to my ipod. Nowadays my old ears aren't great and I have to jack the volume up so high to hear anything over the almighty clattering of the rolling stock, that the incipient permanent ear-drum damage is almost not worth it anymore. Plus the so-called “shuffle” has developed a mind of its own and has decided that damn it, if it has to play the Clash, it will only ever play "Lost in the Supermarket", because it seems that's the only Clash song it likes. I, on the other hand, much as I love the Clash, am getting a bit tired of hearing it as the third, sixth, ninth, twelfth (etc) song every time I turn on that crappy shuffle. You know I don't envy Apple and Steve Jobs their money, I have plenty of my own, it's just, you know, they make such an inferior quality product.

Anyhow, the woman sitting next to me proceeded to have her breakfast. In what I and the other passengers felt was a casual and offhand manner, she proceeded to munch, slurp, scrape and lick her way though: an Actimel, a banana, 2 pots of yoghurt and an orange, which she peeled inside of Sainsbury's plastic carrier bag, presumably for health and safety reasons. There really aren’t many things more irritating than someone else eating a pot of yoghurt – particularly if they un-self consciously lick the pulled-off foil lid, and then do that annoying little scrapey motion at the bottom of the pot, with their idiotic black plastic Sainsbury’s spoons.

I sat there wondering what else she would pull out of her carrier bag: a plate of bacon and eggs? A couple of moist, warmed croissants from underneath her oxter. Maybe a medium rare steak sandwich? If she’d gotten as far as shucking a few oysters, I was sure I'd put some Tabasco sauce in my bag before leaving, so we could have had quite a party. Maybe she was also going to produce a damp sponge and proceed to give herself a bit of a wash down. Who knows?

Then to add insult to injury, not content merely with her luxury breakfast on a 9:05 Jubilee line train to North Greenwich, she then had the temerity to proceed to apply what I'm guessing was a full make up barrage to her physog.

It suddenly occurred to me that London Underground is missing out on a significant marketing and business opportunity. Why not have a dedicated "breakfast carriage". The wide Victoria line tube rolling stock are ideally suited to a buffet bar style unique breakfasting experience. Not to mention the idea of spa and relaxation carriages, special make up application carriages on gimbals that prevent jerking and smearing of lipstick; sleeper carriages for those getting on at the ends of lines with long journeys. What about gym carriages? Get your work out on the way to work. For an appropriate fee you can get to use one or more of the new carriages so you can arrive at work fed, watered, exercised, manicured, made up, suited and booted.

Or you know, you could just get up a bit fucking earlier and do it at home. Just a suggestion.

The Sunshine: out of Danny Boyle's arse

2007-04-10T15:36:00.000-07:00

Glen Byrne deliberately limits himself to 800 words on the awfulness of "Sunshine", in an effort to avoid wasting the entire day describing in minute detail the enormity of it's failure as a motion picture.

First off, let's dispel any illusions: this is not a science fiction film. Witness: the utter lack of techno-babble explanation as to why the "sun is dying", an event in reality scheduled for 4 billion years hence; how, or who invented the device meant to reignite the sun. There is one dubious reference to the fact that "all of Earth's fissile material has been mined" to produce the bomb, attempting to reinforce some sort of ticking clock element - utter nonsense since the creation of hydrogen bombs relies on fissile material only to kick off the fusion reaction; the complete lack of reference as to how there appears to be full gravity on the space craft; the pathetic lack of technical competence from the crew; Cillian Murphy's "physicist" who's expertise can be summed up as the ability to operate a video transmission device and turn a couple of keys on the bomb payload that's meant to reignite the sun. Ironically the video device turns out to be the source of a bitter, rancorous, physically violent tiff between Murphy and Evans. That this is about as substantial a relationship that is developed in the entire film should tell you the intellectual depths we are plumbing here. Finally the idea that you can descend into the heart of the sun in a thin case of metal, anywhere outside the realms ”inner journey" science fiction is the ultimate insult.

To be clear: it’s obviously not a crime for a film to have a science fiction back drop, but not be a sci-fi film. Tarkofsky got away with it in his psycological drama 'Solaris', Douglas Trumbull with his proto-ecological tale in 'Silent Running'; Ridley Scott made a superb horror flick called 'Alien', which just happened to be set in space; and Dan O'Bannon et al made a great low budget comedy, 'Dark Star' (itself a sort of pre-cursor to Alien), which also happened to be science fiction based. All of these films used a science fiction backdrop as the basis for well thought out pieces of cinema. 'Sunshine', what ever it was trying to achieve, ends up falling somewhere between a remake of the execrable 'Event Horizon' and the PG plod fest that was 'Mission to Mars'.

While the acting is competent (but no great shakes) and the special effects have reasonably high production values, this film has nothing better than that to recommend it. The plot is banal, riddled with holes and so derivative of other work as to make you wonder whether there are plagiarism laws for cinema. A director with the creative flair of Danny Boyle (Shallow Grave, Trainspotting, 28 Days Later) should know better. The introduction of a lunatic, somewhat sun-burnt, supernatural Freddy Kruger like character (the captain of a former mission to save the sun), who sabotages and slashes at will, via the "let's go visit the previous failed mission for kicks" device (the equivalent of descending into the darkened cellar with a flash light running low on batteries), was the laugh-out-loud-and-not-in-a-good-way point for me.

Even the half-hearted attempt to introduce some sort of meta-physical crazed fascination with the sun and light falls flat, since it isn’t explored and the introduction of the slasher element overtakes this part of the plot anyway.

Then there was clearly an irritating element of re-editing and blurring of the creature to make the film acceptable for a 15-cert, since there is never a clear view of the crispy cretin, which one would expect, at the very least, as a reward for sitting through this rubbish. This kind of last minute editing and the massive marketing campaign (including lots of “making of Sunshine" promos) shows the distributors are rightly worried they wont make their money back.

The ultimate resolution of the film, if you could call it that, becomes entirely predictable from the earliest moment, as Cillian Murphy explains in a video message to his "sis" that it will take 8 minutes for the change in the sun to be noticeable on earth. When all of these idiots eventually get burnt up in the heart of the sun in a mystical fiery explosion of twinkly lights, it's no less than they deserve.

Frankly I'd rather watch Armageddon. I mean the film with Bruce Willis, but even the ultimate destruction of the planet would have been preferable to this utter twattery.

Le Gavroche and the Theory of Everything

2006-11-27T10:26:00.000-08:00

Physicists today strive for a "GUT". Not, as you might think, the outward bulging sign of an overindulgence in the finer things of life, which of course is appropriate for a Piggly Wiggly review, but rather a "Grand Unified Theory", uniting all of the known universal physical forces in a harmony of mathematical precision and concision, commonly known as a "theory of everything". Little do they know that a theory of everything already exists, of my own devising, which I'll share with you now. My theory of everything states that about 90% of everything is rubbish. 90% of books, TV, cinema, theatre, people, events, music and crucially for this review, restaurants, are rubbish (or pretty much thereabouts).

Is this not a depressing statistic I hear you cry, if we are doomed to spend nine tenths of our time in the mire of mediocrity? On the contrary, all the joyous things in life, the things that make, not to wax too philosophical here, life worth living, are about discovering the 10% that's either really good, or even occasionally, where ordinary superlatives breakdown and you find yourself sampling the very top 1% of the finest things there are to enjoy physically and/or intellectually. Or rather, to be more specific, the top 10% of the top 10% of things that you, in particular, might enjoy, wherever your own sick, twisted tastes and fancies deliver you. The mathematically inclined amongst you, or indeed just the slightly wilier, will of course realise that by assuming the truth of my assertion, 90% of theories are also rubbish. Aha, clever, you see? In which percentile my theory of everything lies, is therefore left as an exercise for the reader.

Le Gavroche, just off Park Lane, on the surface, both when you look at it from the outside, and when you descend into the velvety, warm, decorous interior of it's evidently lush and well to do basement dining room, past it's swanky ground floor bar, does not strike one as one of those "90% experiences".

Our 18:30 reservation brought us into a slightly under populated room, but still buzzing nicely, which filled up quickly thereafter anyhow. "People watching" to coin a phrase of the parlance of our times, is greatly facilitated by the relatively open plan design, so I can only deduce that chief amongst the attractions of the space is both being seen, and, to judge by the Hedge Fund Type Expense Account Toffs loudly holding forth at the table next to us, heard. Piggly Wiggly informed me that in Hedge Fund circles Le Gavroche is the local "des-res" (desired reservation) for expense account entertaining, and judging by the smattering of European languages, and evidently post work besuited and booted clientele, I was in no doubt as to the correctness of the reputation. This makes an interesting contrast to some smaller dining spaces, where sitting down to table is about the culinary experience, as opposed to the expense or the expanse of the dining. In retrospect, I think this might not be a particularly foodie-serious atmosphere for a Gastro-Piggly, so be warned.

Service was prompt and fairly unassuming to start with, and we kicked off with a couple of glasses of vintage Taittanger Champagne. I'm moved to wonder at this point about aperitifs. In all their bewildering variety, there can be only one that, for it's purity and refreshment, wins out every time - and that's clearly a glass of champagne. I often see people with Gin and Tonics, beers, pints and all sorts of alcoholic non sequiters clutched in their sweaty digits as they make their way to tables (or have it brought, in the classier joints), but I can never figure out why. Cocktails are for cocktail hour, not an immediate pre-prandial tipple. Indeed, there are chefs who will refuse you a Singapore Sling, A Roaring Twenties or whatever your concoction of choice might be, on the grounds, justifiably, that it interferes with their culinary master plans for you. Observant readers will note the evident restraint I've applied in not using some of the more common and vulgar cocktail monikers to go for the obvious snicker, for which you can thank me later.

Anyhow, menu choice is simplified greatly in a restaurant like Le Gavroche, when, like Piggly Wiggly and myself, you have cast off the chains of petty bourgeois morals, and (with the aid of some starvation dieting) have just decided to pork out and go for the degustation menu (7 courses, including 2 deserts, plus a cheese plate). With matching wines you are, as we used to say in our local Cummann, "elected".

Course the first: Poached scallop with a julienne of vegetables and ginger and spicy red pepper. This was revelatory. For an instant I thought we were receiving sushi until I cut into an tasted the scallop, pleasingly plump, a good two or three mouthfuls of sweet meaty juicyness. I still prefer them fried but this was utterly delicious - not overwhelmed by the ginger in any way (although the vegetable medley was a tad salty for one mouthful) and perfectly cooked, with a perfect wine accompaniment.

Course the second: Crayfish tails in a butter sauce with escargots. Again, somewhat revelatory - quite how you decide to pair up snails and tails I don't know but it worked exceedingly well - probably because they met somewhere in the middle of that deliciously light, creamy butter sauce, with a delicious little dollop of garlickly-oily pesto as well.

Course the third: Fillet of John-Dory with garlic crostini and with an aubergine thing on the garlic toast and some sort of very spicy thing as well. To me this was the pinnacle of the evening's enteratainment. Quite how it's possible to create something so spicy, with such crystal clear favlour sa the same time, in particular with something as delicate as fish, and John Dory at that, is beyond me - which is why I'm a consumer, not a creator of fine dining I suppose. The garlic crostini coated with aubergine added a great cruncy contrast to the thin layer of broth 'ponst which the John-dory sat, succulent and again, ferfectly cooked, not one iota of the flavour being lost in the spice and the delicate garlic.

Course the fourth: Foie gras with crispy duck pancake. Now, call me inhumane, but I "lerve" foie gras, so I was eagerly anticipating this course. However, it turned out to be quite disappointing. First and foremost, it was certainly not a great piece of meat, it was not cooked particularly well, and came with a pointless accompaniment of a crispy (i.e. dry) duck pancake, of all things, and a hoi sin sauce, that Piggly Wiggly described as being like an "overcooked duck samosa". In it's own richness, the accompaniment did nothing to improve or compliment the foie gras. In fact, it detracted. Compared to many memorable foie gras starters we've had, this was a dismal failure. For example, in one 3 Star, a superp piece of meat, which was both superior in quality and cooking, came with a nice, simple, sweet, crab crisp; in New York, we had a stunning accompaniment to the biggest chunk of foie gras I've ever had, of sauterne grapes in a light gravy, brilliantly allowing the richness and texture of the foie gras to melt around the mouth; or indeed in just a plain old bog standard French restaurant near Grenoble, where Piggly Wiggly got an eye poppingly enormous tranche de foie gras with a simple crispy salad; or, at another 2 Star establishment, where we had an utterly surprising foie gras, poached in a jar with a cauliflower cream. This was really quite a let down after the trio of superb starters and we were hoping it was just a blip. However…...

Course the fifith: Venison. While perfectly cooked, just rare enough, with excellent accompanying vegtables and sauce, this venison was a touch bland for my taste. While I will admit that I prefer game to be gamey to the point of giving you slight palpitations as to whether you should really be eating something quite as rancid as this, this was merely a texture rather than a flavour - a very nice texture, mind you, but still pretty much flavourless all the same. Unfortunately, not much could redeem this course in my view. Piggly Wiggly was of much the same opinion, although the wine pairing did something to mitigate the failure.

A word on the service at this point - it was pleasant and efficient, however, it was also somewhat less than enthusiastic in terms of explaining the dishes and in particular the wine accompaniment. At other locations, the sommellier delivered such mouth watering descriptions of the wines accompanying the meal, and what it was meant to accentuate, that we were practically grabbing the bottle and swigging it back before he was finished. Here I felt a little short changed in terms of what we were supposed to be looking out for in the wines and the food. In any event, it didn't mar the vening in any way, but it didn't add a great deal either.

Course the fromage: After an appropriate and decent interval, we decided to gird our now considerably porkier loins, for a cheese plate selection. We requested, as is our wont, the stronger variety of cheeses, and received a reasonable selection of good to moderate cheeses with decent wafter thin biscuit selections, along with some celery. All in all satisfying and adequate, and I'm not trying to damn with faint priase here.

Course the sixth: a dark chocolate gateau with a praline nutty cream, only slightly memorable, but tasty all the same - not a favourite with Piggly Wiggly though.

Course the seventh: Upside down tarte tatin. Unfortunately, I'm just not a fan of apple tart, whatever fancy way it's dressed up, so this was a bit of a "miss" for me. PW is a fan though and pronounced it worthy.

Course the petits fours and coffee: my decaf had that percolated to death hint of Bisto gravy grnaules about it, but the petits fours were good, although not remarkable.

Overall - would I say Le Gavroche is well worth it's Two Star Michelin assignation? Deffinitely yes, in particular if you compare it to the overwhelming disappointment of Patrick Guilbaud in Dublin (the only 2 star restaurant in Ireland). However, utlimately, it was quite pricey, even considering the degustation menu, the matching wines and service (aboout 380 GBP in total).

That of course reflects the clientele, undoubtedly the Expense Account Brigade from Hedge Fund Central. However, for value, and quality, it certainly is no where near it's other 2 Star London rivals to which we've paid visits.

Some good things: utterly sublime wine accompaniments, excellent starters (scallop, crayfish with escargots, john-dory); good cheese plate and good wine list as well.

Some not so good things: outside of the degustation menu, nothing sufficiently tempting to take you to A La Carte Land; somewhat unenthusiastic service, the course and wine pairings being a bit under-explained; an inconsistency in the quality of the courses (excellent being directly followed by the merely passable); only okayish deserts in my view (which is a key factor in forming my opinion, generally). Also, for the Gastro-Piggly on the look out for a special occasion restaurant, a more impressive dining space, and potentially less expense account stuffed atmosphere might be had at say a place like Gordon Ramsey at Claridge's, or even the Wolsley, although the food at the latter, while constantly improving in our view, isn't Michelin Starred.

While on the whole Le Gavroche has a very well deserved reputation, with good service and an enticing wine and degustation menu, many of the courses of which, but crucially not all, were superbly executed, and would be a good stop off on the way to giving your boss a heart attack when next he reviews your expense account, for the Piggly Wiggly Epicurean Oddyssey, it's neither sufficiently good value, adventurous enough menu-wise, or foody-centric enough, to entice a second visit.

A Right Royale Pain in the Balls

2006-11-21T06:04:00.000-08:00

It's often said that politicians are out of touch with both reality and the great British Public. A massive disconnect to do with voter apathy, a general distrust of politicians (who are, by the almighty wisdom of opinion polls, "lower than estate agents"), disaffected "yoof" and so on. However, it's hardly surprising, because it seems that the great British Public is well out of touch with anything approaching reality, to judge by the reaction to "Casino Royale" on the BBC News (NEWS, I ask you) web site.

http://newsforums.bbc.co.uk/nol/thread.jspa?threadID=4773&&edition=1&ttl=20061120122938

I feel privileged indeed that my hard earned spondoolicks are not only funding the BBC to give a forum to it's innumerate and scientifically illiterate journalists to spend their time debunking peer reviewed, expertly authored, epidemiological studies about mortality rates in Iraq, but also to give a forum to the equally inept and cinematically illiterate portion of the disengaged British Public that, taken in by the media hyping blitz krieg of propaganda surrounding Casino Royale, have fallen completely for it and believe that, despite the evidence before their very eyes, the steaming pile of festering crap on cinema screens up and down the land, is something approaching a half way decent piece film.

Ok, I'll admit, I'm not a Bond fan. Pretty much I never have been. For example, I used to think Roger Moore was the best Bond, but when I was a kid he was making a lot more of them, and Moonraker did approximate a Sci-Fi film, which is something I've always been a fan of, albeit a tackily cheap one, even for the '80's. More latterly I feel Connery was obviously the best, but that's just because he was a better actor, nothing else. And let's face it, once they got beyond the gadgets with the evident demise of Q, nothing of any interest or surprise ever happens or happened in a James Bond film. Ever. Name one twist, one unexpected plot device, one surprise, one "well I didn't see that coming", or one "that's new" that you've ever gasped when you've seen one. Apart from the gadgets (gondolas turning into speed boats and so on)? You see? Nothing.

"Hahaa" you might say, "that's the point - it's a cinematic convention - we expect a teaser introduction, a flirtation with Moneypenny, an assignment from M, a foreign location, lots of gadgets from Q, much mayhem, lot's of explosions, a few fist fights, a few stop overs for shags with lovely ladies, a secret base detonating, and a comedy shag at the end with a receiver being turned off on indignant MI6 officials, while Bond plus A.N Other model get it on upside down in the torpedo tube of a submersible of some description. The enjoyment comes from seeing what kinds of things happen along the way, we enjoy the familiarity and the easy charm of Bond demolishing villains and causing devastation as he goes, and the cool manner of his dispassionate dispatching of his enemies. We enjoy the cool calm sophistication of this ice-cold killer (the champagne, the caviar, foie gras, the martinis, the sharp suits, all the easy expectation of a public school boy for the finer things in life). He's like a sort of good guy Hannibal Lecter - except we are never repelled by his brutality, only charmed as he dispenses his Arnie Schwarzenegger like witticisms over the corpses of his always-asking-for-it victims with all the subtlety of a bullet in the face ('shocking', 'he lost his head', 'stick around' and so forth)".

Well you might say that, if you had a brain. Mostly you'd probably say "go and see the new James Bond film - it's brilliant - now, the weather".

I had the misfortune to see this utter dross because of a simple moment of weakness last Sunday. My girlfriend had been slavering for weeks about Daniel Craig in the role, and I thought "it can't possible be worse that all the other ones", and I'd been reasonably impressed by Daniel Craig in "Enduring Love", plus it had received a thumbs-up from a previously impeccable source, so I thought, why not?

The plot, if you can call it that? Below par even for Bond - in the post 9-11 world a banker to the world's "terrorists" gambles their money on the stock market, by shorting airline stock, and plans his own airline terror stunt. Bond foils his plans and forces Le Chiffre, a "mathematical genius and gambler" to set up a high stakes, make or break poker game to win back the money he lost in his failed stock market gamble. So far so hum-drum. Apart from the utterly ludicrous plot inconsistencies. First, this is supposed to be Bond's very first mission as a "double-oh agent". Post 9-11? Right. And why would a methodical genius decide that gambling his stake away was a clever use of the money? And why would MI6 and the CIA wait until after a poker game to want to take this guy down/out or whatever they do, when they could just pick him up there and then? Even suspending disbelief, this is stretching it.

So the action? Well, the initial chase through an African building site is bland enough, with Daniel Craig being stunt doubled in about 2 out of every 3 shots; one or two reasonable free running stunts, for some bizarre reason. Now, I thought I had already missed that fad a couple of years ago, but it seems to be making a resurgence (in Cason Royale and in Breaking and Entering - at least in the trailers for it). I expect in a few years the noughties it will be looked on like all those 80's films where you had to have leg warmers and a montage scene in order to have any sort of street credibility. Much is seemingly being made of the fact that the action sequences show that "Bond can bleed", and "he gets hurt", and the action has a "more gritty feel". Hmmmm. Maybe, but that doesn't meant that they are any good as action sequences - any Jackie Chan film, ANY one of them, contains better and more interesting choreographed fight sequences than anything in Casino Royale, and you almost never seen any blood in them. There is, for example, and excellent fight scene in "Gross Point Blank" between John Cusack and a "spook" assassin in the corridor of a school, which for pace, action, direction, style and "grittyness" far outstrips anything in this film. And even the Bourne identity, and the Bourne Supremacy, even though they were woeful had good gritty fight scenes. Yes there's blood, yes there's pain, but none of it is interesting. And as for the much vaunted "showering fully clothed comforting Vesper scene after a traumatic murder" baloney: even my girlfriend, who had enjoyed the soft porn Daniel Craig moments, was laughing (not the intended response I feel).

The one welcome departure from the norm was the standard Bond torture sequence - yet another chance for girly soft porn as Craig gets stripped to his proverbials, and has a nasty series of heavy rope lashes applied to his undercarriage, exposed in a hollowed out chair. "I never understood the need for all those elaborate torture methods" opines Mikkelsen, as Le Chiffre, the subtly disfigured villain, referring to the "Take Mr. Bond away and give him plenty of time to escape" standard scene from the early Bond films. Indeed. If all he wanted was Bond's password he could have tried something infinitely easier - just phone him up on his mobile and try a little social engineering - tell him that it was the MI6 IT desk phoning to perform some routine account maintenance. Or just guess. "Aston Martin", "Bentley", "Shamrock Rovers", or perhaps the name of his current squeeze even, "Vesper" would be good starting guesses. What a funny name - that's a real selling point for film. NOT.

The central action of the film, the supposedly "brilliantly tense" poker game, is nothing of the sort. Not only is the action interrupted several times for idiotic digressions (I was hoping against hope that poison or the terrorists would kill Bond and ease my suffering), but the game itself is intentionally cryptic so that you know the results only when the director wants you to. Plus, whatever action there was (if you can call cards being turned over and a dealer calling hands "action") was supplemented by irritating asides from Giancarlo Giannini, as Mathis, to Vesper Lynd, the supposedly "extremely bright" treasury agent love interest, sent to keep an eye on Bond, unfortunately though without, it seems, even the most rudimentary briefing in counting the face value of casino chips, or how the game of poker is played. Mathis, the "helpful" local MI6 contact, leant close on half a dozen occasions to growl: "14 million in the pot", "28 million in the pot", "all-in means he has to play all his money", "Bond needs and ace to win" and so on. Basically it was like watching one of those all night celebrity poker matches complete with annoying commentary. Just when you thought Hollywood couldn't get any more condescending.

By the time the baddie is all too easily dispatched (without even a mano-a-mano, and not even by Bond's own hand), the girl saved, James' nads re-confirmed in working order after his torture ordeal, and a few nice shots of Venice are in the can, you're left wondering how long it will take for the love interest to turn on James and bring this pain in the balls film to an end. The answer is "longer than most people can stand". By the end of this drivel most of the audience I saw this with were talking amongst themselves, much to the chagrin of one man who asked some people angrily to stop talking, presumably as he was trying to sleep. The introduction of a "twist" in the end, to herald the return of the Bond status quo is as heavy handed as it is unnecessary, and personally, I couldn't get out of the cinema quick enough.

Despite what that prostitute Jonathan Ross may tell you (he gets privileged access to the set and interviews with the celebs - in return he's really sold out his credibility by having too many Hollywood friends that he can't piss off by giving bad reviews to their films - like Russell Crowe and now the cast, crew and director of James Bond films - I mean what's wrong with the Barry Normal model - send a reporter to do the onsite location reporting, keep a distance from the makers of the film, and keep your integrity for your film reviews), this drivel is not worth letting some one PAY YOU to watch, never mind shelling out 10 quid to go and see it.

It's pretty obvious from the "pedigree" of director Martin Campbell (which includes such visionary and groundbreaking films as "Vertical Limit", "The Mask of Zorro", and a pile of second rate TV) that this was never going to be anything approaching a good film - merely a hodge podge of "On Her Majesty's Secret Service", plus "Casino Royale", and 100 million dollars down the drain.

If I'd been kicked in the balls and had 10 quid robbed from me, I'd have had only a marginally worse time.

Rhodes 24: Food with a view

2006-09-28T06:44:00.000-07:00

Orwell probably hasn't stopped revolving in his grave since he was put there, what with the obscene mis-use of language that he described, growing increasingly out of control. John Reid, the Home Secretary, is, according to the Today program, delivering a speech later on today in which he will, apparently without irony, utter the line (and I'm paraphrasing) "there is no compromise with extremists". Hmmm. That strikes me as a somewhat extreme position in and of itself, particularly for a politician, one, who by definition, has all the integrity of a weasel in an egg factory.

Incidentally, you might ask how the seers and soothsayers at the Today program know what he's going to say later today. They get copies of such speeches, or at least the bits that Downing Street Managers want trumpeted, and the BBC obligingly goes and blasts it in my ear at 8am in the morning. Presumably their logic goes something like this (you can imagine John Humphreys or James Naughtie saying this if you want): "we get advance notice of things important politicians are going to say. We report on them. Later on in the day, the politicians say it and there is reaction. If we waited till the morning after, what they said wouldn't be news, we'd just be reporting reactions, so we have to report in advance". Or in other words: "we're happy to reiterate and trumpet whatever nonsense the people who appoint our bosses want to flap their lips about, under the guise of news, completely unchallenged. It's our job to be spokespeople for spokespeople".

The Chief of the Metropolitan police, someone you might expect to always weigh in heavily on the side of blandness in public statements, in a recent press conference about the alleged foiling of an alleged terror plot said the alleged perpetrators would have allegedly caused, and I quote, "unimaginable" devastation. Wow. Unimaginable devastation. I wonder what that would be like: say 500 people on the 10 planes, that's 5,000 people killed, and maybe throw in another 500 if these planes were downed over populated areas. 5,500 people killed. Whoops. I just imagined it didn't I, not so unimaginable after all. I can only conclude that to be a member of the police force one must have ones organs of imagination surgically removed (to use an Andrew Marr phase), in boot camp or Police Academy, or wherever it is that they go to be trained.

Anyhow, in times like these it's refreshing to go to a restaurant, particularly one in the Square Mile, and not have to sigh in resignation at abstruse descriptions and patent nonsense on the menu, but an encouraging menu maketh not a great gastro-experience. Getting access to Rhodes 24 in Tower 42 is a bit like going for a job interview. On a plane. You have to "check in" at reception, get a little green security "boarding pass", put you bag, brollies, books, and assorted paraphernalia through a security scanner, exchange pleasantries with 2 security guards, and then, leaving the glass fish bowl of the foyer behind, navigate your way through shiny corridors to the "B" lift banks for take off to the 24th floor (Rhodes on the 24th floor, see?).

First impressions are important. Boulet in New York, a 2 Michelin Star affair, had a softly lit entrance hall filled waist high at the sides with boxes of apples when we visited - an utterly wonderful aroma, redolent of Autumn and the country side, which just transported you as soon as you walked in the enormous arched wooden door - we instantly forgot we were in Downtown New York. The first thing you get inside Rhodes 24 is the stark acrid tang of cigarette smoke as you tumble into the bar, choc full of beshirted city types. The best views out at the Gherkin are, unfortunately, from the bar, so we gazed longingly out at it (one of my favourite buildings in London, it's like an enormous space ship when lit up at night) as we were whisked away to our table. Comfy seats, but we were posted beside some sort of lectern that the staff seemed to like congregating around, with bottles of expensive water, dripping condensation. The décor was passable, but I'm not sure I got the theme, if there was one. Somewhat typical for a dining room in an office block, but certainly nothing stunning.

We started with a very nice gin and tonic and house champagne which was pleasingly light. From the menu (see, back to my original point) much tempted, and the starkness, relatively speaking of the descriptions, augured really well in my view. Fish featuring heavily, we were in a more hungry mood and both opted for the scallops to start. An amuse guele of a cauliflower soup was, rather cruelly I thought, labelled "cup a soup but in a good way" by Piggly Wiggly. I know exactly what she meant, as the cream gave way to some sort of base stock, but I rather liked it.
Thereafter, 3 rather small but moderately tasty scallops (no roe: someone please tell me where does all the row go, because that's where I want to be), cooked to our taste (a little bit of jelly in the middle), but bizarrely, with salt added after being cooked (I could see the flakes). I can only conclude that the scallops were considered a bit bland, and so needed some salt - I agree that they were a tad bland, but was shocked that they would salt them none the less. The most puzzling thing, however, was the piped, sticky mash potatoes with a mushroom gravy as an accompaniment - ok in and of themselves, but did absolutely nothing for the scallops. What's wrong with a few crunchy bits of salad I say?

Anyhow, the Sommelier was quite helpful - our mains, which I'll come to - were meaty, so rather than compromise on the red, we got 2 glasses of a fascinating Riesling (Pewsley Vale, Californian) with a taste somewhere between boot polish, petrol, and old leather, and it tasted great to boot (haha) with the scallops. A bit of a revelation really. For our mains, I was sorely tempted by the fish, (seabass and monkfish amongst the choices) and ended up sorry I didn't go for it. Instead I opted for the oxtail and kidney suet pudding with beef gravy and parsley carrots, and PigglyWiggly went for veal loin with a macaroni cheese accompaniment. The suet pudding was good - my benchmark was the same dish in the Stags Head, Heston Blumenthal's gastro pub next door to the Fat Duck. While Rhodes' suet pudding was perfect (you could imagine the fluffy pud with some nice custard and a few sultanas) it was a very thick walled vessel for the oxtail and kidney. The beef gravy was an absolute necessity, as otherwise it would have been a major stodge fest. At the Stags Head, the casing was much thinner and the filling much more gravyish with lots more kidney. However, the kidneys weren't to the fore in Rhodes, but that's because they did have a slightly gamey tang (which I love). A very close call, but Rhodes shaded Blumenthal on the suet pud front, but I wouldn't go for either again to be honest. The parsley carrots were nice - but pretty much anything with that much butter is going to tickle your fancy. Cooked just the way I like them though, just a tad al dente. And the Seghegio Zinfandel (2004), a Californian effort, which was the Sommeliers recommendation was absolutely perfect with it - cut right through the deliciously gooey suet layers, with a nice berry flavour.

The veal, on the other hand, was a major let down - tough, unrepentant meat, with not much flavour at all, atop some wilted, defeated looking spinach. From my taste, I just couldn't imagine eating the rest of it. The mac and cheese was delightful, but I couldn't see how it would do anything for the veal. In fact, it didn't matter, because nothing was going to save the veal. Poor PigglyWiggly was devastated.

Service throughout was about adequate, but we were left looking at empty plates for what seemed a long time in between courses, but as mentioned previously the Sommelier guided us very well with his choices.

Normally, I would spend a long time rhapsodising on the dessert - however, the trades description act may apply here - I ordered a raspberry bakewell and got a plain old raspberry tartlet. All of the raspberry syrup, cream and peanut brittle ice-cream accompaniments in the world could not make up for my disappointment. Some tasteless decaf and a few petits fours later (the warm Dundee cake being a real winner), we were leaving, pausing only in the now cleared out bar (just because it's on the 24th floor doesn't mean the city types hang around - it's just like any other bar in the city in that respect) to take in the view. The bill came to 184 quid including a 12.5% service automatically added, which given the location, the clientele, the view and the fact that we had quite a bit of booze, isn't a bad price.

Compared to some other 1 starred restaurants we've been to (March, Peter Lugers, Alto, the Spotted Pig, all in New York admittedly) this was well below par. We definitely wont be going back, and my advice would be take your 180 quid and go somewhere else where yuo pay the same or in some cases less. For example: Morgan M, La Trompette, St. John's, The Wolsley (which is more spectacular really in an of itself, even though it doesn't have a view), Bibendum, or have a nice lunch at Clarigdes and go for a ride on the London Eye afterwards. If you want food and a view that is.

Review of "Superman Returns"

2006-07-27T02:39:00.000-07:00

Craptonite.

The Worldovision World Cup

2006-07-03T02:49:00.000-07:00

It's hard not to feel sorry for the English really. I mean: to see all those St George Cross flags being desultorily taken down from the pubs and the council block windows, the Dunkirk spirit of the fans, as, noble in defeat, they take their baldy skin-heads out of the sunshine back in the dank recesses of the end of what was the English summer, as they heartily buoy their spirits by joking and laughing, and in general keeping up their upper lips stiff, and all.

I'm not sure that any people of the face of the earth have quite as many apt phrases and idioms to describe nobility in defeat as the English. I wonder what that means.

Nobody yet seems to have noticed that the thickly necked, potato-headded centre forward that ruined all their chances happens to be of Irish extraction. A subtle ploy? Revenge for Skibbereen perhaps, and 900 years of oppression, as England bow (not quite the right word, attempt a bow, stumble forward and bust their lip on the edge of the pavement more like) out of the quarter finals of a major tournament, again, on penalties. Was it planned all along, was it the result of years of Irish genetic selection, a fifth column of scouser strikers, waiting to, er, strike by not eh, striking? Far be it from me to start and internet based conspiracy theory.

Ironically, it is to another Irishman that I think the English need to turn in order to take this tragedy, and use it as a vehicle to take on board the lessons of Germany ought-six, and move forward to a brighter and better footballing future.

"But who Glen?", I hear you ask, "surely you must be aware that Steve McLaren has already taken over the reins as England manager, and that that decision is final, we can't just get a different manager in now - he must be given a chance".

Indeed, that hadn't escaped my notice.

"But, surely you're not suggesting Joe Kinnear (technically not an Irishman really, but a former Ireland international) should get the job instead, replace McLaren before he even starts?"

Nope, that that either.

"You can't be thinking of ex-Leeds hard-men Johnny Giles an Eammon Dunphy can you?"

Not them either, as it happens.

"Who? Please tell us, who can lift England from this Slough of Despond and rekindle our hopes for future footballing success?".

Who? I'll tell you who. Terry Wogan that's who!

"Eh, Tel-boy? Ehm, well, you know, we like him on the radio and all, but what's he got to do with football? Oh and in the Eurovision too...."

And that's exactly my point. What England needs is Terry Wogan commentating on every England football match whenever and wherever they play. You see my thesis is that you English just take football too seriously. What you need it that little lilting, wry, ironic Irish brogue of Terry Wogan, gleefully commenting your opposition out of existence - and if you win, sure that's a nice little earner for the boys in the team - and why not, sure don't they deserve it for running around like lunatics for 90 minutes - and if not - well you can have a good old laugh along with Tel-boy about what a dreadful funny spectacle the whole thing is anyway, and you never took it seriously in the first place, and "shur, will you look at them big brazillian eejits, don't they look like big ould Fifes bananas in blue shorts there ,running about like mad things. Sure if that's what you have to wear to win, we'd much rather have those nice fetching England white shirts, now wouldn't we....?". Or - "well, the poor old Portugese, didn't they lose their empire and their national identity - a trip to the semis will do them the power of good, and sure we can go there any time we feel like it - shur will you look at them anyway, the big portugese eejits, don't they look like a pile of little schoolboys in their big ould winey coloured shirts, running around like mad things. Reminds me of the old alma mater unifrom, St Concepta's school for young Limerick offenders, that I went to. Sure if that's what you have to wear to win etc etc".

We could even turn it over the the great telephone voting public of Europe and the world to decide who actually wins - just by the sheer volume of people that seem to phone in to these things in Britain (Big Brother and the like: apparrently more people voted in the evictions than voted in the last general election) you're bound to win (eventually).

Of course I may have my own, selfish reasons for suggesting that. Given Ireland's track record in the vile tacky schmaltz that is the Eurovision, we'd be bound to end up, at long last, winning the world cup. Now that's what I call revenge for Skibbereen.

But far be it from me to start any internet based conspiracy theories.....

The Repair song

2006-06-19T03:04:00.000-07:00

It's funny cos it's true…...

The other day we took in hand
Some minor house repairs
With phase tester and a circuit plan
We headed up the stairs.

The awful lighting fixtures
In the bedroom, landing, hall
Were the targets of our strictures
Electrical and all.

We set about dismantling
The shoddy chandaliers
With dicely cantilevering
On our best new dining chairs.

And oh the sense of pride in doing
Such a worthy job
Rewiring and rescrewing
Every dodgey knob.

But then when we descended
And turned the breakers on
Our repairs haven't ended,
But begun with this song……..

Ohhhhhhh…….
Them zones them zones them, 'leccy zones
Them zones them zones them, 'leccy zones
Them zones them zones them, 'leccy zones
Now fear the circuit boards…..

Cos the bedroom's connected to the..
Bathroom
The bathroom connected to the..
Landing
The landing's connected to the..
Entrance hall
Now fear them circuit boards…..

Even Jon Steward Nods......

2006-04-27T18:44:00.000-07:00

Jon Stewart appeared to be genuniely apologetic to a Wall Street Journal analyst last night, rather unecessarily I felt, for not understanding why oil companiesare making so much profit with oil at $70/barrell.

The real answer is that, pretty much, many oil companies with access to substantial land based oil resources are probably producing oil for about $10 or $15 a barrel or so, I would guess. When I worked in the oil industry about 5 or 6 years ago, when oilwas trading at about $10-20/barrel and oil executives were gloomily reporting thatthe world of "$10 oil is here to stay", we aimed to get the cost of producing a barrelof oil down to between $7 and $12 per barrel.

Of course from field to field, country to country, tax regime to tax regime, whetheryou are producing on land or at sea, there are plenty of other varaible costs that take chunks of profit out of the barrel - for example many regimes will take a massive chunk of oil as it's produced at the well head. E.g.Saudi Arabia takes most of the oil produced there in taxes, whereas if you can produce hydrocarbons off the cost of Ireland, the government takes almost no tax from that to make it ecomonically viable. But these additional costs were ones that were already being dealt with before oil pricestrebled!

Regarding Bush's address to the US Renewables Fuels Association, and this whole bru-ha-haabout how shockingly high gasoline prices are, not only are the measures Bush announced to combat high gas prices nonsense, it's mostly his fault they are so high!

First, suggesting that the use of ethanol can put some slack back in the oil/gasoline markets. About 10% of all US corn went to make ethanol in 2004/2005 according to the USDA(http://www.usda.gov/oce/commodity/wasde/latest.pdf). Ethanol makes up a very small
percentage of US fuel supplies, and the Federal govenment provides subsidies of up to 50c per gallon to produce ethanol (http://www.distill.com/berg/). There's also a protection tarriff on imported ethanol of about 60c per gallon. Lifting that tarrif would be a good way to get cheap ethanol into the country and create some slack, but then all those enormous agri-companies that produce the corn that produces the (subsidised) ethnaol would miss out wouldn't they? Oooh, which special interest will I serve today - oil, agri-business or petrochemical?

In addition, many studies have shown that it costs more energy to create a gallon of ethanol than can be extracted from it (see http://www.ethanol-gec.org/corn_eth.htm and references therein). Admittedly there are some studies, most recently one published in "Science", so reputable, that show the opposite, but the point is it seems controversial at least.

Another measure Bush announced, suspending deliveries into the US Strategic Petroleum reserves, is also nonsensical. This has no impact because such tiny amounts are involved in adding to the now almost full Strategic Reserves (700 million barrels as at August 2005 relative to it's maximum capacity of 727 million barrels, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strategic_Petroleum_Reserve).

To put it in perspective, the US consumed 20.03 million barrels of oil PER DAY in 2003 (http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/us.html) and imported 10 million barrels of oil in the week ending 21 April 06 (http://tonto.eia.doe.gov/dnav/pet/pet_move_wkly_dc_NUS-Z00_mbblpd_w.htm).

Bush blames increased demand for oil from China and India for pushing oil prices higher. Very unfair on India, which consumes about one thirtieth of the oil per capita that the US does (at 2003 figures, see http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/in.htmland http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/us.html).

Of course probably the main reason that oil prices are being sustained at their current high, (apart from refining capacity limitations), which Bush conspicuously ignored, and dare not speak it's name in the mainstream media, is the geopolitical uncertainty that his Administration has created i.e. uncertainty about interruptions to oil supply from countries like, oh I dunno, Iran and Iraq and possibly even Venezuela.

And as for Iraq, the oil ministry recently produced a report detailing the catastrophic neglect of Iraq's oil infrastructure, mainly due to one war and invasion, years of US and UK imposed sanctions, and, most recently, one illegal invasion (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/4944814.stm).

The BBC are at it again.....

2006-04-18T09:41:00.000-07:00

RE: Father's tribute to dead soldier
Last Updated: Monday, 17 April 2006, 15:38 GMT 16:38 UK
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/4915166.stm

The above article states:
“A British officer killed in Iraq felt troops were "making a difference, little by little", his father said. Brigadier John Palmer said the vast majority of Iraqis were better off because of people like his son, Lieutenant Richard Palmer, 27”

Further quoting Brigadier Palmer:
“the vast majority, they were better off because people like Richard were there."

Apart from a grieving father’s word, what evidence does the BBC have for reporting these statements as fact?

A readily accessible survey from January 2006 [1] shows exactly the opposite i.e. that the “vast majority” of Iraqi Sunni’s look forward to the violent removal of the occupying forces, and “the majority” believe there will be a subsequent improvement in their lives.

In addition, one of the most recent, comprehensive, but not independent, studies of living conditions in Iraq [2], paints a bleak picture of life there: general healthcare, child health and nutrition, education and the position of women have all deteriorated dramatically since military intervention began in 1991, situations exacerbated dramatically by the most recent invasion. Child mortality rates have also escalated dramatically [3]. In fact, according to the WHO:

“In 1990, Iraq was ranked 50th out of 130 countries on the UNDP Human Development Index, which measures national achievements in health, education, and per capita GDP”.

It has now fallen to position 127, one of the most dramatic changes ever recorded [4].

The Brigadier’s statements, though understandable coming from a grieving father, have no basis in fact. BBC journalists have a clearly defined ethical responsibility [5] to moderate such comments with accurate information.

The article then quotes Brigadier Palmer as saying that: "Clearly there were lots of members of the population who didn't want them there”.

Again there is no evidence presented to either support or refute this statement. In fact, it is a calculated misrepresentation of the current situation, given that it makes no attempt to quantify what “lots of members of the population” means.

Evidence could be easily found in the BBC’s own reporting one way or the other for this [6]. An opinion poll for the BBC World Service shows not only that:

“there is a strong body of opinion in 20 of the 35 countries surveyed that believes US-led forces should withdraw from Iraq in the next few months”

but that also in Iraq itself,

“opinion is evenly divided with 49% favouring an early withdrawal and the same number wanting US-led forces to stay”.

Most Iraqis favour a definite timeline for withdrawal of occupying forces, differing only on the length of time for that to take place, 6 months or 2 years [1].

Brigadier Palmer also states that: "On a daily basis they put their lives at risk as they endeavour to improve the security situation within the country."

If the understanding of US troops is anything to go by, the occupying forces in Iraq seem to have no real understanding as to why they are risking their lives. According to a poll of almost 1,000 US military personnel, from February 2006 [7] “85% said the U.S. mission is mainly “to retaliate for Saddam’s role in the 9-11 attacks; 77% said they also believe the main or a major reason for the war was “to stop Saddam from protecting al Qaeda in Iraq”, none of which, I hardly need remind anyone, is true.

Clearly, the BBC has failed the most basic standards of journalism ethics [5], in particular:

“A journalist shall strive to ensure that the information he/she disseminates is fair and accurate, avoid the expression of comment and conjecture as established fact and falsification by distortion, selection or misrepresentation”.

The NUJ’s ethics also state:

“A journalist shall rectify promptly any harmful inaccuracies, ensure that correction and apologies receive due prominence and afford the right of reply to persons criticised when the issue is of sufficient importance”

Given their history on this kid of thing, I'm not holding my breath for a correction.

An interesting aside to this is that according to Google News UK [8], a compendium of internet news resources, there are about 150 versions of this story hosted by nearly as many different news and other organisations on the World Wide Web. Many of them that I investigated reuse exactly the same text, with exactly the same themes, and exactly the same omissions. So in what way is the BBC regurgitating exactly what all other news outlets are issuing adding to the public interest and informing the public about the real nature of this story (as per there high minded charter) ? Well the obvious answer is that it isn't - it's just "easy journalism".

REFERENCES

[1]http://www.worldpublicopinion.org/pipa/articles/home_page/165.php?nid=&id=&pnt=165&lb=hmpg2, which states that a “large majority of Iraqis…….favours setting a timeline for the withdrawal of US forces, though this majority divides over whether the timeline should be over a period of six months or two years. Nearly half of Iraqis approve of attacks on US-led forces—including nine out of 10 Sunnis. Most Iraqis believe that many aspects of their lives will improve once the US-led forces leave”.

[2] http://www.iq.undp.org/ILCS/overview.htm.

On health care
“In the 1980s, Iraq was widely considered to have one of the region’s best health care systems, with advanced, technological specialist care, and an extensive net of primary health care. However, after years of war and sanctions, this situation has changed completely”.

On child health and nutrition:
“23% of children suffer from chronic malnutrition”.

On education:
“Iraq’s educational system used to be among the best in the region; one of the country’s most important assets remains its well-educated people…….However, over the past two decades, wars, sanctions, and harsh economic conditions have taken a toll on the educational system”.

On the position of women
“After improvement in women’s position in the Iraqi labour market and education in the 1970s, there have been several setbacks during the last 15 years”.

[3] http://www.unicef.org/infobycountry/iraq_statistics.html. Iraqi infant mortality rates have only been increasing (from 50/1000 in 1990 for under 5’s to 125 in 2004; and from 40 in 1990 to 102 in 2004 for the under 1’s).

[4] http://globalresearch.ca/articles/HAS506A.html

[5] http://www.nuj.org.uk/inner.php?docid=59

[6 http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/4755770.stm

[7] http://www.zogby.com/news/ReadNews.dbm?ID=1075.

[8]http://news.google.com/news?ned=uk&ncl=http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml%3Fxml%3D/news/2006/04/17/uirq.xml%26sSheet%3D/portal/2006/04/17/ixportaltop.html&hl=en).

The Things you see in Grand Central Terminal (#1)

2006-04-10T10:36:00.000-07:00

Vanderbilt Hall, the great advertising annex of Grand Central Terminal plays host to such auspicious occasions as New York's Tartan Week (promoting Scottish Tourism), the World Women's Squash Finals, Bride of the Year and many others. None is more pretigious however, than the bazaar of the bizarre that constitutes it's Christmas Fair.

Passing though late last December, of an evening on the way home from work, I happened to note a large burly security guard, standing to post, guarding the rhubarb of sundry assorted paper weights, novelty ties, music boxes, geodes, scarves, string puppets, glove puppets, puppet puppets and you get the picture.

So anyway, I was wandering through and threw a friendly jerk of the head at this security guy, and noticed that his badges of office indicated he worked for, and I kid you not, Troy Security.

So I approached.

"How come you guys are still in business after that fiasco with the wooden horse then?", I inquired. He denied all knowledge while looking over the top of my head and not acknowldgeing me. "You know", I insisted in a pally, conspiratorial fashion. "Not a very good advert for your firm is it? I mean getting duped by a large wooden horse right outside the gates? Seems a bit obvious?". At that point he cricked the considerable bulk of his neck to his shoulder radio: "Control, we have a bogey in sector alpha-phi", and the next thing I know I'm spending 3 months in Guantanamo.

When I got out, I decided to look into the investigative findings of the "Troy Wodden Horse Commission", an enormous tome produced by the Senate Protected Un-Trojan Activities Comission, or SPUTaC, as it's known. Let me tell you the findings both shocked and shocked me. It was a trip through the looking glass into a murky world of myth, half myth (which is 150% myth if your counting), butterscotch rum flavour rippling, and the murky shadowy underworld of intelligence services and counter intelligence.

Well it turns out that the whole debacle resulted from a failure of the inter-operability of the intelligence agencies that handled security inside and outside of the Gates. The intelligence services and military where withall of one of the most ruthless and brutal empires the world had ever seen was simply taken aback at the sheer simplicity and callousness of the whole hide-in-the-belly-of-the-beast-and-pop-out-later idea.

Ands there was I thinking all along it as because they'd swiped Helen's behind out from under the greeks before there king could pork her. Yet again my overly simplistic world view has failed me miserably.

TV Ninny Series

2006-04-10T09:23:00.000-07:00

I'm currently working on a number of TV projects, that I'm quite excited about. I think you will be too:

First there's my series about a private detective that lives in a mobile home near the beach in LA. Generally he gets roughed up once per episode, has a lot of shady friends in the past that he can't refuse a favour to, that generally wind up causing him a lot of hassle. Many of these cases relate to dairy products and cheese related incidents. It's going to be called the Roquefort Files.

Then there's my new hard hitting gritty New York crime drama, about the crack squad of elite New York detectives who solve the nastiest and the grimmest of the 5 borough's brutal large vehicular related crimes. That's going to be called Law & Order: SUV.

Following on the insatiable public appetite for hospital programs, I'm working on an idea set in the Accident and Emergency room of a major hospital in Leeds, in the UK. In this one we see the complicated and inevitable sequence of events that lead up to each and every accident, getting involved in the lives of the people, and of course the lives of the A&E department staff. In particular, we'll be focussing on the sequence of events that go into each and every accident. That's going to be called "Causality".

Also, there's a new series which is a remake of an old one. Starring Edward Woodward, it's about a lone knight in a gritty modern urban setting, who, if you're lucky, you may be able to get a hold of to resolve some problem you have. He usually does this by making extremely articulate speeches at key moments in the show. The working title for this one is "The Eloquiser".

On a lighter note, going for the comdic angle, I have an idea for a laid back, relaxed sitcom set in the A&E department of a major hospital where the only thing anyone does is sit around and consume hearty beverages while disparaging patients and colleages. That's going to be called "Casual Tea".

Move over reality TV, the new wave is approaching.

Mathematical Musings

2006-04-07T17:03:00.000-07:00

The thing I could never figure out about Fourier series was: what are they Fourier than?

Chant of the Toy Story Barbie Dolls

2006-04-07T13:02:00.000-07:00

How low can you go?

Dear Mr Rugman,
Re your report of March 27th on Chavez in Venezuala: http://www.channel4.com/news/special-reports/special-reports-storypage.jsp?id=2046
The overall impression this report carefully crafts is of a slightly crazy,
paranoid President tending towards dictatorship, bent on keeping power by
rearming and ingratiating himself to the population by giving handouts to,
for example cooperatives that are 'haemorraging money'.
I would contrast your report with that of Kim Bartley and Donnacha O'Briain.
Their wonderful documentary shows a courageous Chavez returned to power by
sheer popular demand after 48 hours of a coup attempt. Who knows for sure
if the US was behind this coup, but it was clearly welcomed by them, as the
clips of the Whitehouse spokesmen at the time show. 'Chavez: Insdie the
Coup' is particularly interesting from a media point of view because it
shows both the extradordinary level of control of the media by Chavez
opponents and also the freedom that they have to do that. There is a clip,
for example, of a serious looking commentator who rasies the question 'Is
the President mad ?'. In addition they show what is actually happening on
the ground during the coup. This documentary constitutes a real life
experiment in how a business dominated media mis-reports reality to push the
population in a certain direction. Thankfully, this coup attempt failed,
despite the massive media propaganda.
So not only is Chavez not paranaoid, but he has every right to consider how
he should defend himself in the future! Let alone the general context of US
intervention in Latin America.
You protray him as making kind of limp gags. But his offer of cheap oil to
poor comunities in the US (which has been taken up by some) is, if you wish
to evaluate in those narrow terms, a stroke of PR genious.
What I see in Chavez is a courageous man doing a great job for his people in
the face of significant pressure from elite interests at home and abroad.
What I see in your report is an attepmt to throw dirt, an attepmt to smear
this man. It's true that in your report you do allow Chavez supporters to
speak, but the tone of the narrator is deeply condecending and patronising,
a constant tone of sneering running through it as if saying 'Just look at
this guy, why should we believe anyhting he would say ?'. I read this
report as the compliant mainstream media taking it's cues from the powers
that be to assist softening up the publics view of Chavez in preperation for
the day when the US eventually gets around to attacking him. Paranoid ? Might I remind you of tre recent similar case of media passivity in the face
of irrational build up to war in Iraq ?. Not to mention, I repeat, the very
well documented US interventions in Latin America. You provide none of
thisfactual context that would show Chavez's concerns about US agression to
be perfectly reasonable.
Sometimes I wonder whether journalists like yourself are just, as Dylan
wrties 'only a pawn in their game', or rather active manipulators. I think
though a better anthem for you all would be the chant of the Barbie dolls in
'Toy Story': 'How low can you go ? How low can you go ?' as you limbo your
way downwards, towards ever lower journalistic standards.
yours,
Robert Byrne.
_________________________________________________________________
Express yourself instantly with MSN Messenger! Download today it's FREE!
http://messenger.msn.click-url.com/go/onm00200471ave/direct/01/