This is a Retronym

Ha! A Post A Year

2011-01-21T02:25:00.001+04:00

Now I can say I have posted at least once a year since I birthed my little Retronym (except for 2009). I’m currently sat in the Radisson Blu in Johannesburg watching an almighty thunderstorm raging outside (I would post a picture but the window is too reflecty and nothing on earth can now convince me to venture out of my PJs).

I’ve been here about two weeks now and I can confirm that I love South Africa and for more reasons than just the epic consumption of red meat and red wine. Thinking about it, red is my favourite food group.
My view of the country will be skewed as I’m here on company expenses but I don’t think that takes away from the friendliness of the people or the size of the steaks.

Firstly, I have to point out that this country is not suitable for vegetarians. Meat is the in thing, all the rage and I’m not talking about just pigs, cows, sheep and hens. Already you can discern that the South African is a right thinking person where diet is concerned.

My dining experience last week centred around the Carnivore restaurant. Their website is sparse on details but this gives a little more flavour to the proceedings that awaited me.
On arrival, we made it clearly known that all non-animal based edibles were to be heartily shunned. In fact, they were shunned with such vigour that the waiter had to remind me and my compatriot that this was an all inclusive affair and that we didn’t have to be stingy with the victuals. Nevertheless, we mocked the mention of soup; a baked potato was proffered but resoundingly snubbed and the mere idea of salad was so resolutely despised that I think we crushed a little of the chef’s soul in the process.

Before I continue, I have to describe the process that tasty BBQ flesh is brought to you in this restaurant. There is a flag.

When the flag is up, a never ending procession of meat wielding chefs (stop giggling!) carve off hunks of flesh onto your plate. To lay down your flag is to surrender in shame. Shame at having given up, but mostly degradation brought on by enthusiastically indulging in one or more of the seven deadly sins.

I’m getting ahead of myself for just as Ezekias begat Manasses, butchery gave birth to gluttony. I’m not proud, that evening I consumed 10 different types of animal. Fuck it. Of course I’m proud. I even named each slab of meat as it hit the plate.

Mr Stripy Pants the zebra was a bit bland, Kenneth the kudu was naturally spicy and Sir Wilbarforth the crocodile was downright unpleasant. My favoured edible guest was Hattie the Hartebeest. She was a sublime mix of tangy game and robust beef flavours.

You may be thinking that in most countries my menu would be more at home in a zoo than sizzling over a charcoal pit of flames. I disagree. I may be the animal equivalent of Jack the Ripper, but I appreciated every morsel.

All in all, we managed 45 minutes or so before our surrender became a necessity. Some kind of internal rupture was a very real risk and we had a 45 min drive home through the pitch black countryside.

I think I’ve covered meat. Next topic – ensuring the meat doesn’t cause a coronary. On my wanderings I’ve chatted to a whole bunch of people and the one thing that everyone here has in common is the outdoors. People list off three or four sports / activities as if it’s normal. Even taking into account that I am built for comfort rather than speed, I think I am talking sense when I say that humans aren’t meant to get that much fresh air. It percolates the mind in unhealthy ways. In order to fit in I decided to infiltrate one of these groups. I ended up going gliding.

Now if you’re not familiar with the concept, gliding is basically thumbing your nose at the laws of nature. For the more religious, you can describe it as committing an affront to the Lord. I am not quite sure how the darn things stay up in the air, really I’m not, but I have heard rumours that to get a gliding license, Flyers (those that glide) have to attend a semester at Hogworts.
If that’s not enough, flyers stick two fingers up at the deity / forces of nature that keep the damnable contraptions from falling out of the sky by insisting on wearing parachutes while in them.

Me - Why do we need parachutes? Surely they’ve managed to perfect gliding after all these years? There’s not even an engine required.

Flying Man - We know these things aren’t meant to stay in the air, but we still take them up, parachutes and all. Wibble wibble, would you like a woodlouse?

Ok, so that’s not an entirely accurate transcription of the conversation but it’s close to the truth in my mind.

The Flying Man (Chris) that took me up was awesome though. Apart from a few slips of the tongue (“Oh dear that was disastrous… wait, not really, I just missed a thermal”) I felt absolutely safe and had great fun… until he banked sharply to the right. Gliders can turn on a penny and manoeuvre into a position where your looking directly down as you turn, usually accompanied by girlish screams and within sight of a brown trouser moment.

I would post another picture of me with hilarious sunburn on my face from spending the entire day at an air-field but I’ll leave that for another time.

This post has rambled on for longer than I thought and covered far less than I meant to so as I’ll be on an 11 hour flight today, I may use the time to write a little more… or I may drink too much and sing at the flight crew.

Special thanks go to Crazy Raver Amy for helping out with some of the turns of phrase in the post, Wikipedia for providing pictures of beasts and Peroni for inspiration.

Cue Eye of the Tiger aaannnndd MONTAGE!

2010-04-28T19:58:00.000+04:00

I hate it when I’m wrong. It’s very rare admittedly but it still chafes like sand paper on my gentleman’s bits (thank God I still have a way with words!).

When I started this blog, I was squarely told that it would be but a flash in the pan. A dalliance, craved only until I rediscovered booze and a social life. “Gaffaw, pish tosh and bollocks” replied I with all the zeal of the new blogger and his new blog.

If you check the time-stamp on my last real post, you will notice the year long hiatus. A year filled mostly with booze and a social life. Damn you beer and friends, damn you all for proving me wrong.
It’s been a good year with bad bits rather than the other way round and I’m truly thankful it didn’t fall under the label of mundane. Give me hell but don’t make it boring.
I shall try to sum it up in this post but there are topics that I will have to devote more time and language to (probably bad language if I’m honest).

The last you heard, I was a new migrant to the Dubai sand-castle, brimming with the exuberance of exploration and experience of a new place. There was a lady in my life and I had a hat, the dapperness of which has not been seen since, well, the last time you guys saw me.

I still have the hat. I call him Hatford.

I’m well into my second year in Dubai now and I’ve pretty much seen and done it all. There’s far less going on here than in, say, London or New York so I’ve settled into the socialising scene which involves bars, clubs and babbling an inordinate amount at people. My friends here are an excellent bunch of ne’er-do-wells, but I sometimes look at myself and think that in any other city, I would be classed as a youth (using the Metropolitan Police definition of “youth”), scaring old people and in desperate need of a community centre and a hug.
Yes, ok, I pretty much fit that description in any city I’m in but remember the hat! It has magical charm exuding capabilities.

The loss of my good lady was one of those bad bits I was talking about. Luckily we’re still friends but it’s still sad. I think that’s all I want to say about that unless you buy me numerous drinks and compliment my hat.

I think that’s pretty much caught you up apart from mentioning my travels. The past year has included Abu Dhabi for 11 months on a project that involved more hours drinking in a big empty house than is strictly healthy. London and Tamworth which I loved dearly due to the random bouts of insanity that I inflict on my friends. Johannesburg which I loved despite the utter nutter I was travelling with and finally Cairo. Cairo is the city I’m currently stationed in. I need an entire book to properly convey my dislike of Cairo. In fact I think I will find it cathartic to vent a little in my next post.

Actually, this post has hardly caught you up at all. I haven’t mentioned karaoke, brunches, dead bodies, the Irish, prison cells, anything topical at all (including skin creams!), hotel room antics, Aussies, my irrational fear of small people or inflatable camel costumes.
Until I get round to writing up more of those topics here’s a gratuitous picture of 2 lions eating my foot. In the mean time I do post more of my stupidity on Twitter (see the box on the right) but thankfully it’s limited to 140 characters.

Hmmmmmm….

2010-04-18T16:47:00.001+04:00

Chaos reigns within.

Reflect, repent, and reboot.

Order shall return.

-- Anon

Dragon Mart is awesome

2008-09-30T21:56:00.001+04:00

Today I've taken advantage of the Eid holiday to have a bit of an explore. I ended up at a mall called Dragon Mart and I can report back that it's insane, fantastic, nuts and intimidating.

The mall is vast and located in the middle of nowhere, sticking out like a bastion of consumerism in the sandy light of the desert. It took me the best part of two hours to walk from one end to the other. Inside, each floor is split into hundreds of little cubicle style shops that are more akin to stalls than the plush luxury of the other Dubai malls. The concept of this particular shopping experience is that all things Chinese-made are sold under one roof. When I say all things, I mean all things. Tractors to laptops and jet-skis to curtains. It's all Chinese, cheap and available in return for cold hard cash.

There were more than enough knock-off looking things that would probably break after the first few uses, but there were also some quite solidly built devices like a TEA SERVING ROBOT! I would sell every one of you readers for such a device, but thankfully it was listed at just over 200 pounds sterling which puts it in the affordable category.

I was also particularly taken with the crazy mobile phones, of which the designers have decided to forego beauty in favour of cramming as many features in as possible. One particular model, labelled as Cool Talk, was a gaudy gold lame little number with duel sim-cards, TV reception, speakers and flashing lights as well as the more mundane flip out keyboard, Bluetooth and touch screen.

I haven't purchased anything just yet as I was cashless and the cash machine was closed so I wandered around taking it all in. This does mean I need to go back, and this time I will be armed with a camera and dirty currency.

Tomorrow I may head off to Sharjah for some extended exploring. The Emirates are big and I am determined.

Dubai... The place of dreams, and building sites

2008-09-26T22:46:00.001+04:00

You've been worried haven't you? I've been gone and silent and you crave my attention, nay, you need it to live. Well my pretties, it may interest you to know that I have moved. No, not only have I moved house, I have moved city, country and continent.

Some of you will already know that I've been living in Dubai for almost a month, others, well now you know I hate you (just kidding, I liken myself to Sam Beckett in that my Swiss cheese brain forgets so much). So far it's been pretty sweet. The weather is awesome; the apartments both spacious and pimptastic and the lifestyle is pretty laid back.

In this post I will try to recreate the emotional states that I have transitioned; from arrival through to this very moment sat on my couch typing away.

Departures and Arrivals

Boo, leaving London, Friends, Wench. Don't like this.

Exciting though, new places, things to see and do.

Heathrow, how I hate thee.

Urgh, 8 hours on a plane. I must destroy crying children.

Bahrain airport is... boring.

2 more hours on a plane, this time smelly passengers must die.

Wow, Dubai airport... welcome service, WIN!

Note: Welcome Service consists of a small oriental lady that holds your hand and has the power to jump all queues. Truly she is blessed.

Holy crap, hot and humid. What have I done? Ahhh, air conditioned taxies.

Oooo, very swanky pad. What's that? Paid for by the company for a month, EPIC WIN!

Realisations

Ramadan applies to everybody? But so hungry!

Hi new colleagues, look at me, I'm great! Oh, that means I've already been assigned to a project and begin work immediately.

I need residency? Where are you going with my passport! How many forms?!?

Ok so let me get this straight, before I can do things like open bank accounts, rent a flat and officially exist, residency needs to happen. It can take up to a month. This doesn't mean I'm invincible for that month. Fail.

Rental cars are fun... nah, people can't be that bad on the road. I'll drive to Abu Dhabi. It's only a couple of hours. <Two Hours Pass> I want my mummy! <Two More Pass On The Way Back> I want my mummy and foooood!

Ooo, iftar is another word for buffet and shisha.

Hi sister and sister friends. Shopping is great and cheap. Wow, everything is new and shiny.

PAY DAY! No TAX! Stupendous Win!

Acclimatisation

Ooo, diving lessons, dune bashing, sweet merciful art galleries. I may get used to this.

There we have it. A month in a page and it really has flown by. Needless to say I haven't actually had time to go sight seeing and the bars and clubs are pretty much closed until the end of the month so I should have plenty more fodder and adventures to excite you with.

I am missing home and the boisterous friends and girlfriend that I got so used to, but hopefully I will soon entice you all to join me. I already have one convert in John who is moving to Abu Dhabi in the next week.

The one thing that still astounds me is the scale of this place. It's all so massive and marvelously fake. The news has reported that the building and landscaping is actually changing the climate of this place so that in a few years, it will become temperate and established. I'm skeptical but if it does happen it's a special type of lunacy that the world needs more of.

I will be back in the UK in October for a proper leaving do and to hug a tree and some green grass. I could not organise one in time before I left due to my uselessness so stay tuned and hopefully many of you can make it.

Wedding Photos

2008-07-30T00:47:00.001+04:00

I've managed to put up all the photos that I have from the wedding.
They are mighty... please note the De Lorean from back to the future. the lovely Caz hired it as a special gift to Phil for the wedding day. There are few times that I've seen Phil speechless, this was one of them.

Best Man's Speech

2008-07-29T22:00:00.002+04:00

Here's my best man's speech. There is a video of me giving it that's being sent to me as I type.
I think it's the most nervous in the world I've ever been.

I did improvise on the night a bit, but this is pretty much the entire thing.

So, hi everybody!
(The crowd better reply with "HI! Dr Nick")

As I'm sure everyone will agree, it's been a brilliant day only marred by the next 5 minutes I'll be speaking.

As is customary, I would like to thank the caterers for the lovely meal and everyone here for helping to make this day special.

I also need to thank Phil on behalf of the bridesmaids Anna, Claire and Shona. They look absolutely radiant and are only outshone by the ravishing bride.
Frankly, we've done the best we can with Phil, at least he's in a suit.

My name is Omar and I shall be your best man for the evening. A task I do not take lightly. So much so that when Phil asked me to take up the mantle, I responded with a resounding "No!". Not a good start to any budding groom-best man partnership I think you'll all agree.
Fortunately, I quickly realised that part of the best man's duties was to embarrass Phil in a room full of his nearest and dearest, a situation I've been trying to engineer for years.

Unfortunately I've failed, I don't have a speech prepared. I have been racking my brains for the last month in search of something nice to say as well as some mild humiliation for the groom and I've come up blank.

When I fist sat down to write this speech I really needed some inspiration, I couldn't in all conscience spend it making boob and fart jokes, no matter how strongly Phil begged me.
I began by contemplating why Phil would choose me as a best man. Obviously it must be because of my tact, charm and devilish good looks. As a representative of the groom, he wants me to make a good impression for his assembled family and friends. That made me happy.

Then I actually started to jot down some notes and quickly realised that in all of the most incriminating stories that I know about Phil, I come off as badly as he does. The cheeky monkey was hedging his bets. Check-mate to Evans, or so you'd think. I just needed to work that bit harder to insult him properly.

So I thought to myself, I'll ask some of his friends and family, that should make it easier to convey the essence of Phil during the speech. The responses started off well with "He's a warm, funny, happy bloke" and "He's always been the life of a party". I then noted a couple of sinister comments declaring "I've never actually seen him do any work, he's always just there". I think you can guess where those comments came from, Phil.
Now I did giggle a bit when I found out that Phil's aunt had called him "flippy kippers" when he was younger. I thought that could bring out Phil's playful side but that inkling of hope was soon dashed when at the merest mention of Phil's name, one individual just muttered "round and hairy" over and over again.
I then gave up on playful anecdotes altogether when one of the last insights into Phil's very being was "oh God, he's lazy, stubborn and smells a bit". Even I protested on that one, but then again, I guess it's your parents that do know you best Phil.

So now I'm stuck with stories I can't tell and the impressions of friends that range from slander to downright lunacy and the wedding day was approaching quickly. I needed a new tack.
I thought about some themes for the speech using words like proud, responsible, ambitious, sexual conquistador but I could hardly structure an entire speech around "things Phil is not".

So, after mentally preparing myself with a very nice meal and a few drinks I sat down and really thought hard. What do I know about Phil really? Well he's almost entirely motivated by cheese products and I went to university with him. In fact, I first met Phil at Manchester, a fine educational institution to say the least. To my cost, I soon discovered that Phil knew little about the educational bit but alot about institutions.

Through a drunken haze of beer, crisps and occasional forays to lectures, my most endearing memory of him at university is his enthusiastic dancing, a feat I'm positive will be demonstrated later on this evening. I highly recommend requesting "Sit Down" by James if only to see an entire wedding party being forced to sit on the floor in time to the music.

However, my most burning memory of him is something I sincerely hopes he keeps for his wedding night or for a career in politics and that is his love of drag. Of all of my friends, I do not know any other who's face lights up at the thought of donning a dress and bounding off in search of Halloween adventure. More worryingly, of all my friends, he by far has the most ample cleavage.

The big day is now even closer, so what else do I know? Well, Phil spent his formative years in Ironbridge where he cultivated a love of both iron and bridges and where I'm also told he first came up with, what I consider his lifelong mantra.
As many will attest, Phil is not the most shy and retiring man on this earth. In fact, he positively loves talking. So much so that there was a moment in the ceremony where I really did think he'd follow "I do" with "and let me tell you why".

But I digress... the mantra. If everyone can please imagine Phil as a child. A wee scrap of a lad, probably playing in some mud. Now imagine young flippy kippers wearing a flowerpot on his head... now set him into motion breaking everything in sight. Destruction of crockery, furniture and even family pets. And now finally imagine Phil triumphantly sauntering up to his parents and announcing "I done damage". A sentiment that I hear plagues his work colleagues still.
Well Phil, the only damage you've done today is to the wedding pictures and I'm sure photoshop can fix that.

So I'm stuck. I've been standing here for the last 5 minutes with nothing to say. So let this be a lesson to all aspiring best men, if the only achievements of your groom are to have married a fantastic woman, occasionally provided amusement and to have been a great friend over the years, politely decline and save yourself the stress.

In all seriousness though… Thank you all for listening.
Phil, it has been a great honour to have been your best man here today, but more importantly to have known you as a friend over the last 10 years.

I sincerely wish you the happiest of marriages and may our friendship continue for many years to come.

Before I finish with the toast, I'd like to prove to you all that I have done the research for this speech. On this very day in 1945 the Potsdam declaration was signed declaring that if Japan did not surrender it would face "prompt and utter destruction". Phil, think of yourself as Japan.

<TOAST>

It's been a while

2008-07-29T21:52:00.002+04:00

Yes, yes, yes... My posts have been few and far between but I've had alot on my plate!
The big news from this weekend has been my friend Phil's wedding for which I was best man (see previous stag do post).

It was a fantastic day in which I did not screw up once! Aren't you all proud?

Over the next couple of days I shall be posting the best man paraphernalia that I've used in crafting my speech as well as some pictures and videos.

In the mean time I've attached a couple of teaser shots.

A weekend of burning and shooting

2008-07-01T03:43:00.001+04:00

I have returned from a weekend in a field with 20 other men, all good and strong. You guessed it, two days of unwashed, testosterone fuelled manliness with guns thrown into the mix.
I get ahead of myself though, let me add some context.

I have been selected as the man that is above all other men; the ideal that lesser mortals aspire to; the Best Man. Over the months since Phil has graciously offered this role, I have pondered the reasoning for this choice and I have it distilled to three potential reasons:

Wanton Omar-Love - I am pretty damn snuggly after all
Temporary/Permanent Insanity - Phil does love the chillies and I think I know why
A Trap - There is no wedding. This is all a ruse designed to capture me and test out the latest in Omar-flinging devices

Reasoning aside, being asked to best man such a personal part of a friend's life is such a huge honour and I am deliriously happy, proud, and other sentiments that I feel more comfortable displaying through the veil of a blog lest I damage my shield of stoic manliness in person.
So before I get into the meat of the "Harm On The Farm" Stag Weekend, I would like to thank Phil for the free meal he'll be providing, the opportunity to insult him in front of his family and friends and wish him all types of fabulousness for his impending nuptials.

So I digress, time for the main event. We begin at the beginning on the day of June the 27th in the year of our Lord 2008. Our location is a field in the vicinity of Oxford. I was one of the last to arrive, my means of conveyance, the joyous camper van of death. An orange and white beast of a vehicle that threatens obliteration with every corner and almost every application of the breaks. Due to the confines of my job I had to depart after work and was therefore the last to arrive on that perky Friday.
I must digress another time to give very honourable mention to my blonde, top 1000 buddy John for assisting in the acquisition of the camper van, driving duties and also supply of the most manly gazebo in the existence of garden accessories. John, I salute you!
On my arrival, I was met with a sight that filled me with erotic dread. A field of tents, a line of cars, a medium sized fire, and men that had been drinking since 3pm. Truly if there ever was a more volatile combination, it would have to include cheese of ancient evil (Available from a curio shop that exists on Muswell Hill, in this dimension).
The Friday evening was a most pleasant affair consisting of acquainting myself with new friends and catching up with old friends. Much booze was imbibed, stories told and an not insignificant amount of wood burned... only wood for this evening.
Hiring a field is a gentlemanly affair. No fascist camp site rules, no health and safety and only one or two downsides. Showering was an impossibility due to the water supply consisting of a tap, and the bathroom facilities were a tad basic, and by basic I mean akin to a scene from Deliverance.
As men do round a fire, songs were sung, guitars played and stories told. As the Friday turned into Saturday, the darkness descended, which coupled with the brisk country air and numerous bottles of spirits encouraged a more primeval part in all of us to awaken. We did not plumb the depths of naked tribal dancing, but fire walking was on the cards. Striking a pose while perched precariously on a piece of burning wood is now the benchmark for dapper behaviour.
The Saturday began full of promise... which starts this paragraph more ominously than it needs to be. I will give away the ending to this tale by saying that nothing untoward happened and as I understand it, an excellent time had by all. Sorry for the spoiler but back to Saturday morning nonetheless.
Bacon was cooking, tea was brewing and the gallant drinkers emerged from their bulbous body odour inflated tents a little meeker than the night previous. We dined heartily under the blazing sunshine that all of us had fervently prayed for the preceding weeks with only one insignificant mishap consisting of the stag, a bale of hay, and a startle. A story I may be persuaded to tell at another time.
The plan for the day was to take in some country scenery from the safety of our field, locate another field where the shooting of the clay was to take place and then back to the original field for the cooking of meats and the drinking of ales. This was indeed a field oriented expedition.
The first part of our mission was to find the clay killing fields. This sounds mundane and unworthy of my literary retelling, but the instructions provided to us were cryptic at best. Any driving instructions that navigate by car showrooms and descriptions of hairpin bends should be referred to as a scavenger hunt rather than anything more useful. The convoy of city interlopers travelled through the winding country lanes carving out only minor mayhem when the lead car decided that all native drivers of this area had been sedated, probably by invading aliens, and were required to be run off the road.
Needless to say, we found the place and had arrived a good half hour early. This was an event populated by men... tardiness is not in our nature. On arrival, the shooting instruction was top notch, and the trucker hat safety gear set the tone. As well as the usual warnings of the propensity for maiming and death if guns were improperly handled, we were all provided with some anti-clay propaganda to steel our collective nerve against the enemy of the day. You'll all be glad to hear that the earth was again saved from clay pigeon subjugation by a merry band of reprobates and scallywags. I will accept payment for your freedoms in buxom wenches.
I am sorry to say that my performance at the three shooting challenges laid before us was uninspiring. My good lady will be unhappy to hear that in a zombie barricade situation, we would most likely be overrun unless her Northern Irish heritage provided an innate shotgun wielding skill. The stag put in a mightily mediocre performance with 50% of targets hit. A score, he informs me, he's "alright about". If the chillies' side effects are anything to go by, he's a lover not a fighter. Of course, when I write "lover" I actually misspell "drunk chimp" (Just killing Phil, I'm only practising for the speech).
This is the part in the tale where I'd like to taper off. As is tradition with the celebration of the stag, the lore is enhanced by rumour and speculation; the motto for the weekend being "What happened on the farm, stays on the farm". Worry not though, the Phil has been returned in one piece, if a little bruised and in need of a good wash.
I will fuel the scandalous chatter with a few of my personal highlights:

Hay burns well... very well
Car suspensions are hardier than I first thought
A bi-hourly head-soaking fends off the demons of drunk
The simple telling of a story beats any contact sport... if uninterrupted

I now hand off to the next best man for whom the responsibility for the continuation of stag lore resides.

Jo

2008-06-22T00:03:00.001+04:00

This is Jo. She used to not be here. Now she is.

FAIL!

2008-06-09T00:42:00.003+04:00

Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary defines the word fail as -

To be wanting; to fall short; to be or become deficient in any measure or degree up to total absence; to cease to be furnished in the usual or expected manner, or to be altogether cut off from supply; to be lacking; as, streams fail; crops fail.

Whilst out and about this weekend, the incorrigible Jimmy has reminded me of the latest linguistic anomaly to hit the pipes; namely, the increasing use of "FAIL!" and "EPIC FAIL!" in response to blunders and/or numptitude.
I'm a pretty hep-cat and therefore down with most vernacular but I'm still a little befuddled with the subjective context of FAIL! vs EPIC FAIL!
You've probably started to drift off to sleep, but steel your resolve. The journey may be arduous but the rewards will ensure that you remain bossa nova in the land of sukka jive-turkeys.

Imagine a situation where you and your droogs are in your earthy local or possibly some choodessny style bar. A round of drinks has been bought but alas, your pint of Uri is missing. The whole table of thirsty compatriots will chime in with "FAIL!" at this inconvenient state of affairs. The whole table, apart from one that is. You will surely lament your situation with an "EPIC FAIL!".
Without the use of a fail-scale, the group's derrision is unfocused and may not induce the errant pint purchaser to rectify the situation... grave times indeed.

Like the avenging angel of cool, I have used maths to rectify the situation and created the definitive fail-scale.
The diagram gives you the suitability of using FAIL Vs EPIC Fail in some example scenarios for guidance purposes. For example, if you witness someone falling over, "FAIL!" is 83% suitable for use whereas when losing your job, the suitability of using "FAIL!" is only 26%.

Fart Defense

2008-06-05T19:30:00.001+04:00

New Zealand sees breakthrough in animal gas problem | Oddly Enough | Reuters

"Our agricultural research organisation just last week was able to map the genome ... that causes methane in ruminant animals and we believe we can vaccinate against (that)," Phil Goff told a conference in Paris.

I know of a few friends that could do with a good vaccinating, and yes I do class them as ruminant animals.

Tankard

2008-06-04T01:33:00.001+04:00

I am currently in the best pub in London with some lovely people (John and Sara). The reason for it's bestness is described in the picture - excellent ale served in glass bottomed tankards.

Hmmm, you're probably wondering which pub - The Fox and Anchor near Smithfield Markets.

Updated to fix typos due to phone keyboard, NOT BEER.

Melting Bob

2008-05-31T23:07:00.001+04:00

This child is a comedy genius.

BBC NEWS | England | Hampshire | Schoolboy first to 'name' iceberg

An enormous Antarctic iceberg will be known as "Melting Bob" after being named by a Hampshire schoolboy.

Melting Bob is three times the size of Greater London with a surface area of 1,985sq miles (5,141sq km) and had been referred to by a codename - C19A.

But Max Dolan, aged six, from Winchester, won the Scott Polar Research Institute competition.

Organisers said it is the first time an iceberg has been known other than by its numeric codename and co-ordinates.

Melting Bob is of course hot on the heels of Mr Splashy Pants

I like the way they think!

2008-05-29T14:58:00.001+04:00

Over at Boing Boing, they've hit upon a most fascinating idea:

Who'd like a portable text game console? - Boing Boing Gadgets

BBG co-editor John Brownlee wants someone to make a simple, cheap handheld roguelike in a similar vein to the dedicated Tiger portable games of yore...

Graphics, shmafics. The ampersand is timeless.

Eurovision - The final results

2008-05-25T02:03:00.002+04:00

I'll be quicker than some of the presenters.
The winner of the 2008 Eurovision Song Contest is... And i'd just like to thank Serbia for a fantastic night.

The winner is, Russia.

In other news, i'm delighted that the mighty Spanish scored so highly. Unfortunately, not even Franco could have fixed this one for Spain, it was too derranged.
As Eurovision fades in our memories lest we become permanently scarred, just remember the term Numptycore. You heard it here first, it's going to be huge.

Eurovision - Spain

2008-05-25T00:39:00.001+04:00

I have no words. I think it's rap... But awesome. It might even be in a genre of its own - Numptycore.

I will find and post a video of this entry when I get back home. It needs to be seen to be believed.

UPDATE

eurovision 2008 - Spain (original version)

Eurovision - Latvia

2008-05-25T00:18:00.001+04:00

These guys have to win... Pirates... Camp pirates. I think I'm hyper-ventilating.

With a hi hi ho to all of you

UPDATE

Eurovision Latvia 08: Pirates of the sea - Wolves of the sea

Eurovision - Go Europe!

2008-05-25T00:17:00.001+04:00

Tis the night of Eurovision and all through the land pubs are rejoicing with the mirth of bad music.
I shall try to post regularly but I may get swept up in it all.

The story so far...

Wogan is on comedy form
The Bosnian entry is as mad as a box full of monkeys on unicycles... and scary too
The Finnish entry is pure big hair and nipples rock!

Patented Process Indicating Apparatus

2008-05-23T17:54:00.001+04:00

It is a device that shows you stuff, configurable stuff.
I must own this, all my processes need to be indicated.

The Device Patented Process Indicating Apparatus ::Features::

Dirty Harvey

2008-05-23T12:37:00.001+04:00

You can't fit a shop like that.

Feet of Flames

2008-05-19T13:44:00.001+04:00

These guys are awesome!
It's pretty much early communist break dancing choreographed by the ministry of silly walks.

Bacon Bacon Bacon Bacon Bacon Bacon Bacon Bacon

2008-05-19T04:45:00.001+04:00

Web Zen: leftover bacon zen - Boing Boing

Leftover bacon zen

I know at least two of my regular readers are bacon fanatics. In that vein, I think Boing Boing has provided a delightful bacon filled post just for them.
Let nobody say that I don't take care of my readers.

Rejoice, Rejoice, The Surreal Will Take Us All

2008-05-18T17:29:00.001+04:00

BBC NEWS | England | Coventry/Warwickshire | Naked Ugg boot ram-raider jailed

A man who ram-raided a supermarket clad only in a sheet and a pair of Ugg boots has been jailed for four years.

People seem to have lost their fascination with life, that childlike wonder that we all once had dulls as we grow older and discover the responsibilities of our obligation to society's norms - Get a job, get married, buy a house, protect your possessions.
Every so often I encounter a story which takes me back to a simpler time, a time where the absurd machinations of a child-like mind could be called art. A time of lobster telephones and R. Mutt.
This is such a story, albeit in a roundabout way. In this case, booze induced immaturity of thought inspired a man to drag a sheet round his naked body and pull on his girlfriend's boots in preparation for a night of ram-raiding.
If we remove from our thoughts the fact that crime was on his mind, rather than any artistic statement I believe we find something just sort of true genius. Imagine if, instead of a cigarette hunt, he took to the streets for a classic 60's freak-out. He would be fighting the establishment by holding up a fun-house mirror to their mundane everyday existence and in one fell swoop, they would become the absurd.

From Wuss to God... All in the same bottle

2008-05-18T00:35:00.001+04:00

Now this is a great solution for all those couples where there's a disparity between the number of scovilles that each of them can handle. The gist of it appears to be that there is an uber-spicy solution in one half and an anti-chili solution in the other half (or perhaps not actively dousing but diluting). The cap twist modifies the ratio of each solution per spray.
Personally, I love the idea of a spray chili dispenser but I think I could crate a version for a little less than the unreasonable £9.95 price tag on Firebox. Maybe with a super-soaker and flying pucks of meat launched towards a BBQ... I feel a man-plan forming.

Darth Pope Destroys!

2008-05-18T00:20:00.001+04:00

(Courtesy of the BBC)

The walls, they move!

2008-05-16T17:17:00.001+04:00

In case you don't read Penny Arcade, here's a video they linked to which is mucho fabulous.

I'm particularly impressed by the amount of wall they managed to deface in the name of cool internet videos. (A cause I whole-heartedly support and for which, I will gladly donate any of my friends' organs)

MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU

Wombles from the hood

2008-05-16T01:45:00.001+04:00

The nice people at Pact have created a bad ass Wombles video to illustrate the effects of American TV on our dear sweet kiddie widdies.
I have to say that the accented relentless catch-phrases near the end of this video make me want to claw off my ears with a spoon, however, I have trouble feeling passionate about this cause.
I grew up with the likes of Danger Mouse, Trapdoor, Transformers, Dungeons and Dragons, etc... In this divisively small list there is a 50%-50% UK\US split and I proclaim that where the cartoons differ is production values. The US shows looked better.
Sure, the UK ones had a homemade charm to them, but I've only really come to appreciate that since around University age.
The UK shows were more intelligent (from what I remember), have better scripts, and are frankly funnier. Kids like shiny though... so very very shiny. How else can you conceivably explain the Power Rangers and Pokemon fads.
(Japanese shows, lame dialog throughout)
How about we up the budgets a little on our home made kiddie shows. Make them flashy and clever. Problem solved, I win, break out the Mysterious Cities of Gold box set.

I digress though... with quite alot of deep seated anger I never knew I had.

Back to Wombles from the hood... with knives and lingo. Ok, no knives, but LINGO!

To sign the UK TV for UK kids petition you can head over to http://www.britishkidstv.com/

BadAss Wombles

An extensive menu

2008-05-15T01:20:00.001+04:00

So very hungry! Whatever am I to do?

ManBabies.com

2008-05-13T13:41:00.001+04:00

I am a little terrified of this site. Basically it's picture after picture of fathers and their kids, with their heads swapped. SEE!

GET MORE AT ManBabies.com!

The Art of Manliness

2008-05-09T15:23:00.001+04:00

I can't tell whether this is a good thing or not. Please advise.
Free Guide to Being a Gentleman | The Art of Manliness

Cans Festival

2008-05-04T17:15:00.003+04:00

This fine lazy Sunday morning, I decided to get some art in me by visiting the Cans Festival - A wondrous gathering of stencil street artists in a dingy tunnel by Waterloo station.

The event has been organised by Banksy and is set to run until the end of the bank holiday weekend, so considering it's Sunday at the time of writing, you'd best get a wiggle on if you want to see it.
The really fun part is that if you want to wander along with your own stencil and some spray paint, you are more than welcome to add to the already mighty body of art on the walls.

I'll be sorting out all the pictures when I get back home, but for now I'll post a coupe of my favorites.

Update
Full set of pictures here
Also a stencil progression here

Boris gets in

2008-05-03T22:50:00.001+04:00

Everyone has woken up this morning to the news that Boris "the buffoon" Johnson has ousted Red Ken Livingstone from the seat of London Mayor.
Not only that, but the Conservative candidate win has come about in the context of Labour's worst ever performance in local council elections for 40 years.
The other controversial issue to fall out is the London Assembly elections. The BNP party has managed to field a candidate that's won a seat.
Many other sites and venues of reputable news have summarised the elections over many thousands of words so what i shall do is supply a few links to the most interesting sources of info that I've come across; mention the headline outcomes and also do something that nobody else will dare to do. I shall predict the future based on the election results.

First, the sources and headlines:

A very nice PDF from the Guardian describing the Mayoral election results breakdown.

What's good - Voter turnout reached 45.33% which is up 8.33% from 37% in the 2004 Mayoral elections. I can't place what's inspired the public but I hope this continues into the next general election
What's bad - Almost 70,000 people voted for the BNP candidate. Why s this bad? Well the "People Like You Voting BNP" part of his manifesto page on londonelects.org.uk is pretty illuminating.
The BBC excels again in election map technology with a picture of the county's allegiances.
What's interesting - Almost all other parties gain at the expense of Labour. They managed to lose 331 councilors while the Conservatives picked up 256. Particularly bad for Labour was the Welsh results, an area that is typically referred to as the Labour heartland.
The other fun fact in the local election results is that the BBC has projected the following share of the party votes across Britain: CON 44%, LD 25%, LAB 24%. That means the Lib Dems could potentially be in opposition.
The Telegraph has a simple table showing the London assembly results. No flashy graphics here.
What's interesting - The implosion of the Lib Dems and UKIP in London. That ranks up there on the scale of strangeness with the Conservatives taking the Bury council.

I hope that helps making some sense of all the information blasting us over the past couple of days.
Now for the part you've all been waiting for, I have taken all the election information into my brain, muddled it around and I have come up with a picture of the future. Behold!

Boris Johnson will trip over his tie and injure his head on an immigrant. This incident will be spun in the media by Richard Barnbrook as proof of the underhandedness of all non-Brits.
This will spark a race-riot that will engulf the entire south of the UK. The north will bask in it's new found economic conservativeness and become the financial powerhouse of Europe.
Wales will still have NOC and will be destroyed in a mini civil war.

Stop Politics, Save Currynomics

2008-04-27T23:51:00.003+04:00

Most Londoners should be able to tell you that the National Gallery overlooks Trafalgar square. So before I was exposed to the secret limbo knowledge, I encountered one of the best protest slogans I've seen:

"Stop Politics, Save Currynomics"

The protest was centered on the new immigration policies that are allegedly causing a lack of ethnic culinary chefs.

Now I'm a fan of the curry, the noodle and yes, even the sushi so I would certainly be perturbed if they were denied to me.
There was one problem with this protest. It was pretty lame. It mostly consisted of people milling around and occasionally someone would have a bit of a shout on a badly set-up sound system. Surely my gluttony deserves better support than this.

Up above the streets and houses of London

2008-04-27T21:52:00.001+04:00

Rainbow London Mayor's Debate

I've never thought of Boris as a pink hippo but now I can't stop.

Sage Advice

2008-04-26T19:46:00.003+04:00

Lately, I've been pretty lax in updating my blog. I mostly blame a hectic work schedule. I will try to do better.

Last Sunday I went for a bit of a London wander and ended up at the National Gallery.
Natural digestive impulses required a visit to the facilities where I encountered some truly sage advice which I've imortalised in the accompanying picture.
(Needless to say there were some odd looks from the general public when I was finished. I would have thought that camera noises from a public toilet would be pretty normal in London).

For the hard of sight (Click image for a larger version), the writing on the stall door is:

Beware of Limbo Dancers

I'm the downest with the ethnics

2008-04-21T15:52:00.001+04:00

So what do we have here... A mix of our favourite bumbling mayoral candidate and some "street journalism" has resulted in a fantastically surreal interview between Boris Johnson and BBS Asian Network presenter - Nihal Arthanayake:

BJ: A lively ... interest in Turkey.
NA: How often do you go and see your family?
BJ: It turns out I've got plenty of Turkish cousins living and working in London.
NA: Did you just find out when you needed it to get the ethnic vote?
BJ: I'm happy to say that lots of Turkish relations have been coming and going in our family for a long time.
NA: Are you down with the ethnics?
BJ: I'm down with the ethnics. You can't out-ethnic me Nihal.
NA: How many bhangra gigs have you been to over the last few years?
BJ: I can't remember. But my children are a quarter Indian so put that in your pipe and smoke it.
NA: Okay, let's not try to out-brown each other.
(Courtesy of This Is London)

I so rock!

2008-04-20T17:57:00.001+04:00

html'>

i'm an eccentric negro comedian.

I am such a child

2008-04-20T17:05:00.001+04:00

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Woo!

2008-04-05T19:12:00.002+04:00

Ric Flair Finance // Welcome to Ric Flair Finance

That's settled it for me, I'm buying a house in the US.

(This may help add some context)

I saw it with my brain

2008-04-05T18:24:00.003+04:00

I hate my brain. It uses every opportunity it can to get me into trouble. To illustrate this I offer this miniature play:

One fine Summer's day, amino finds himself walking round Covent Garden. The birds are tweeting, the tourists are smiling and all is well.
amino's eyes: What is this we see before us. Street performers! How
quaint.There's a statue person, a magician and someone in whife face pa.....
amino's brain: Argh! mime! Hands, throw shopping at it.
amino's hands: Are you sure? We had to hand over the credit card quite a few
times to get these bags.
amino's brain: THROW!

It's at this point that the mime is covered in a thin veneer of my newly purchased possessions and I am wondering if white face paint is an advantage in an urban steeplechase.

Through this small insight into the workings of my psyche, I think you'll agree that the brain needs some punishment via the medium of optical illusion.

The video shows the effects of an Ames Room. If anyone out there has a spare garage, building an Ames room will bring you wealth and the admiration of beautiful women. Here's a picture to get your construction started (via).

If the magic size changing people haven't befudulated the little grey cells yet then how about some 4-dimensional fun with Tesseracts.
Trying to put it simply, the tesseract is to the cube what the cube is to the square.

So what is this 4th dimension that makes the shape so special? Well according to Olaf Holt (I have no idea who he is but he seems to know about geometry):

Well. . . any other direction! That is, to visualize the tesseract, there doesn't need to be a physical analogue of the fourth dimension. All you need is your imagination

Thanks Olaf, I think.
His page is quite an interesting read if you want to go some way to understanding how to make a tesseract.
Another good source of information is the Wikipedia article, however it does go into some mathematical depth.

I hope that this information has helped and through a strict regime of geometric punishments, you too will be able to cut down on your mime abuse.

Capitalism - the chauffeur of ingenuity

2008-04-04T21:01:00.000+04:00

Sometimes you see a product on the shelves and you think:

"Now that's a great idea. That's going to change my life (see my last Geek Out post).
If I do not own this thing, surely rabid Scotsmen will run down and insert burning Welshmen into my person"

Other times you see something like Barry the Beaver by Jeremy Fish. The image of this toy evokes images of such ambiguity I refuse to link it directly so you'll have to follow the link yourselves.

The picture not enough. Read the description.

I'm sorry Barry, I'm not sure I can be your best friend. Maybe, you can take the role of the weird friend that nobody leaves alone with their pets.

How to guarantee youself space on a train

2008-04-03T20:30:00.001+04:00

Step 1 - have a beard.
Step 2 - have a slightly dark complexion
Step 3 - profit!

The carriage is packed and I have 2 empty seats next to me.
Hmmm, actually... I hope I don't smell.

Oh and check me out. I can blog from a train.

There are consequences!

2008-04-03T18:16:00.003+04:00

BBC NEWS | England | Wear | Housing chief's record net payout

A "malicious" campaign of harassment against a housing group in
Wearside has resulted in what is thought to be the biggest internet
defamation payout.

Damn, there goes my idea for http://www.ihatemimes-theyarescary.com

Future Weapons: Kitty Cornershot

2008-04-03T12:58:00.003+04:00

I truly fear the kitty.

DJ Shadow+Cut Chemist Roundhouse London

2008-04-03T04:25:00.003+04:00

I've been listening to Hard Sell by DJ Shadow and Cut chemist recently and it's inspired me to post.
Go buy this album now.

I saw them live at the Camden Roundhouse a couple of weeks ago and they were brilliant. The supporting act for the tour is Kid Koala who I've been listening to for a while now and he's always been superb.

The rules for the tour are pretty mind blowing for a DJ gig.
2 djs, 8 turntables, 4 mixers, 2 Guitar pedals and they only play original 7-inch records. No laptops, computers or anything else allowed to sully the mood.

The gig started out with a mellow build up from Kid Koala, finishing with a sublime remix of moon river. Unfortunately most of the crowd didn't arrive until after Kid Koala left the stage which I think is a crying shame.

Dj Shadow and Cut Chemist then took the stage. If you've not heard their sets before, just think of 2 jesters who have leaned to mix better than most people on the planet.

The video I've posted is of their Apache remix which has been kindly uploaded by leedowdall on youtube.

Tonto... Tonto, Tonto

The new coins and the Daily Mail's reaction

2008-04-03T03:10:00.002+04:00

Wow, there's some frothing craziness out there.
As many of you will have heard, the UK Royal Mint has issued some new coin designs. Most people I know are pretty indifferent about them. After all, you don't really spend an inordinate amount of time staring at them and you can still spend them on sweeties and comics.

The coins in formation. (picture from the Royal Mint site)

I thought this would the the universal opinion until I was pointed at the Daily Mail comments section -
Goodbye Britannia: A first look at the new designs for Britain's billions of coins | the Daily Mail

My current favorite comment is from Mickey the Manc:

"Decimalisation was the start of the decimation of this once fine nation.
Won't be long before the monarchy is kicked into exile... we can see what is happening and are doing nothing about it."

Hmmm.
decimalisation + new pictures on coins -> exile of the monarchy
I'm not sure I follow the logic myself. I shall have to ponder what could possibly be the next step according to this model.

For more examples of some outstanding reasoning, the BBC Have Your Say page is a gold mine. The comments on there are argument enough for teaching deductive reasoning in schools.

Geek Out - The Asus eeePC

2008-04-02T04:05:00.001+04:00

Ok, so it didn't take me long to geek out. Today's topic of conversation is the Asus eeePC. I'm not going to bother reviewing it's hardware or software features as that's already been done to death. The real question is would you use it if you got one?

The eeePC is an aspirational gadget. You want one because it's going to change your life. It's tiny, so small that you can take it everywhere with you. You'll be able to blog from all those interesting places you regularly visit, upload pictures of that mountain bike trail you just conquered, etc...

I own an eeepc, I've had it now for a couple of weeks. I'm living the dream.

The tone of this post not withstanding, it is a deeply cool little gadget. However, be warned, I suffer from an affliction known to many of us - gadget lust. I believe in those aspirations! (About now is when I need a gospel choir plugin for blogger. You hear me Google?)

I do carry it around most places, well, when I'm not at work which eats up 5 days a week. But the rest of the time, it's in my tasteful man-bag. It weighs almost nothing at all so I hardly notice it's there and when it is time to get my eeePC fix, usually in coffee shops or occasionally the pub, it's fully functional. I've uploaded pictures, sent email, checked the internet, chatted to friends; all while un-tethered and free.

Now here's the rub. I live in London. It rains at this time of year. It rains alot. This can limit your more outdoors-ey pursuits.
I'm not sure about anyone else, but when it's cold and wet out, I'm less likely to meander around discovering cool things to electronically document and sitting outdoors with an espresso while rocking to youtube doesn't really cut it in the rain.
So that I don't kill my social life entirely, I use the winter months to see galeries, watch movies and generally make an arse of myself down the pub. Unfortunately, on these occasions, I'd rather take in my surroundings than be chained to a screen.

Don't be disheartened though, I have still found myself using the damn thing, even in the British Winter. A rather large proportion of planning for a friend's stag do has taken place in the pub, over a beer. Come the date of the do, my trusty eeePC will be by my side for the weekend. I would go into the details of the stag do, which would make it clearer why I would want a laptop with me, but that would be telling.

So how do we make more sense of the practicality of an ultra mobile laptop? There are two must-have companions for the eeepc:

A phone capable of sharing it's internet connectivity (MDA Vario II). Depending on wireless access points is a drag and can actually be quite
difficult in London. The Cloud and T-Zones are ubiquitous, but they ask
for money.
A camera that takes SD cards (Luminix TX2). Taking, editing and uploading pictures on the move is where I find the most use for my eeePC. It's much easier to mess around with pictures when you've got 10 mins to spare in the day rather than batch processing the lot in the evening when you get home.

With those two companions and the promise of Summer, the eeePC makes alot more sense.
There is one tiny wrinkle with the glorious picture I'm painting of my halcyon Summer to be. Everything I've mentioned, I've already been able to do on the move on my Vario, sans eeePC.
Pictures get uploaded with Shozu, Friends are messaged with Parlingo, emails exchanged with Gmail aand the built in client and the web surfed with pocked IE. But then again, it's just so fiddly on the phone. I much prefer the eeePC experience.

The other main usage I'll be getting from the weee device will be on my travels. There's nothing more annoying than taking up valuable room in your hand-luggage with a dirty great laptop. That's valuable duty free storage space.
Again, armed with a camera, all you regular readers should be getting blow-by-blow accounts of my holiday jaunts... well, not too frequent updates, it is a holiday after all.

Reading through this post again, it does strike me how negative I sound. I don't mean to be, I think Asus have created a fantastic little device that I will be getting more than enough use out of for £200. The point of this post is actually gadget agnostic. Aspirational devices do not enable the aspirational lifestyle. You have to do that yourself, so if you'll excuse me I'm surfing a volcano in an hour.

Transient Thoughts

2008-04-02T02:04:00.001+04:00

Today I have mostly been thinking:

What do singing zombies sound like?
A musical version of The Evil Dead is possibly one of the greatest ideas to hit the entertainment scene since Mrs Baracus decided that her son would look rather fetching in a gold necklace
What evolutionary genetic fate made cows so damn tasty. I realise that over the centuries they have been ~~bread~~ bred to be succulent but I very much doubt that Cow Zero tasted like a turd burger
I like waffles

First Post!

2008-04-01T14:30:00.001+04:00

I think I'm a little late to this whole blogging malarkey. The world and it's dog seems to have a blog (no, really - http://suzydogsblog.blogspot.com/) and on every conceivable topic there is (yes, really - http://thefruitblog.blogspot.com/).

So why am I wading into the socially charged quagmire of the blogosphere at such an advanced age (blogmire, perhaps)?
Well, I'm a forgetful soul. Some have said my swiss cheese brain is a marvel of humanity and the fact that I am able to function on a day to day basis is proof of a higher power.
As much as my ego is swelled by my contribution to the great "Is there a God?" debate, it is diminished to a greater extent by my id's unfulfilled desires to collect trinkets of events in everyday life.
Back in the good old days, ids everywhere were placated through the judicious use of scrap books and the annual trial by holiday snaps. Being a gentleman of the 21st century, such antiquities make me laugh, ha HA!.
So to the crux of the thing... I'm here to make a record of stuff so that I can return to it in my dotage and use it to punish the young.

So there you have it - the raison d'être