As if it wasn’t bad enough how precious little science coverage there is in the media, we are now treated to the following:

BBC: Women ‘may outsprint men by 2156′
Women sprinters may be outrunning men in the 2156 Olympics if they continue to close the gap at the rate they are doing, according to scientists. An Oxford University study found that women are running faster than they have ever done over 100m. At their current rate of improvement, they should overtake men within 150 years, said Dr Andrew Tatum.

Have you ever heard such nonsense in your life?

When I was born, I was less than 2 ft tall. My father was over 6 ft. I am now well over 5 ft tall, but my father is the same old 6 ft. By the same logic as the tosh quoted above, if I continue to close the gap at the rate I have been, I should be taller than my father in a few years’ time, and should be at least 35 ft tall by the end of the century. Similarly, we can expect to drive to the 2156 Olympics in our solar-powered cars at speeds well in excess of the speed of light (although how the solar light will ever manage to catch these cars once they get going is anyone’s guess).

Yes, I’m sure the gap between the best male and female athletes will continue to narrow for a while at least, but what possible reason is there for assuming that it will continue to narrow at a constant rate? Both sexes have already reached the stage where sprinting world records are broken by mere hundredths of a second; something tells me that male athletes are not going to be standing round, kicking their heels, while the women knock whole seconds off their own records.

Having said all that, to be fair:

…Dr Tatem said: “We are not saying categorically that women will overtake the men but we think there is a chance and we have put this up for discussion.

Thanks, Dr Tatem. For what it’s worth, please accept the above as my contribution to the stupid discussion.

BBC: Donny Osmond makes chart return
Singer Donny Osmond has scored his first solo top 10 single in over 30 years with new song Breeze On By.

The last time Donny Osmond was that high up in the charts, my sense of humour was so highly developed that I referred to him as Donkey Os-pong.

Actually, come to think of it, it’s still quite funny.

BBC: Israel warning on Jerusalem site
An Israeli minister has warned that part of a holy site in Jerusalem sacred to both Muslims and Jews may collapse beneath the weight of worshippers.

Sounds to me as if it’s not just the Christians who’ve been eating a bit too much chocolate.

What will the BBC’s next weight-related religious news headline be, do you reckon? He ain’t heavy; he’s my Buddha, perhaps, or Jesus is Light.

Driving to work shortly before sunrise this morning, I saw the most spectacular shooting star I’ve ever seen.

If there is anything at all in astrology, then this must surely be a starry messenger. Something big was about to go down.

And then it did:

BBC: Cold weather cools Cadbury sales
A wet summer has put the dampers on drinks sales at the world’s biggest confectionery group, Cadbury Schweppes. Its European drinks business was hit by the rain and cold, forcing the group to lower its expectations for profits this year. Cadbury, which sells 7UP, Dr Pepper and Orangina, was particularly hit by poor sales in France and Spain.

Who’d have thought it? The fortunes of the company whose great chocolate rival brought us Mars and Milky Way bars foretold by a shooting star. Who says God doesn’t do irony? Mark my words, it’s the dawn of a new era.

…But hang on a second. Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps the shooting star of doom was foretelling this:

BBC: Prince Harry set for army career
Prince Harry will join the Army in early 2005 after passing his Sandhurst entrance exams, Clarence House has said. Obstacle courses, medicals and planning exercise were included in the Regular Commissions Board four-day test. The 20-year-old, who is third in line to the throne, will begin training to be an officer after taking up his place.

…or this:

BBC: Thousands of creatures washed up
Thousands of jellyfish-like creatures have been washed ashore the south Wales coastline. The Velella velella, which is also known as the ‘By-the-wind-sailor’ looks similar to jellyfish but is actually a colonial hydroid. Strong winds and recent stormy weather has meant that thousands of the creatures have been washed onto beaches in south Wales.

…or this or this or this:

• Geordie duo sign new ITV contract
• Jail term for fake DNA tests boss
• Morgan doubt over Reds bid

That’s the problem with interpreting portents retrospectively (which is something all the best astrologers seem really good at): how does one decide which ‘predicted’ event to choose?

• Letter to Mars Confectionary
• Predictions, 2003

Richard Madley on this evening’s Richard & Judy:

Coming up after the break: everything you need to know about surviving a dirty bomb.

BBC:  H O L Y   B L O O D Y   S H I T E ! ! !
Europe’s golfers totally snotted the good ol’ U.S. of A in the 35th Ryder Cup this evening. Final score (in case you missed it):

USA 9½–18½ Europe

George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Bill Gates, John Wayne, Walt Disney, Richard Feynman, Britney Spears, Quentin Tarantino, Raquel Welch, Davy Crockett, Buzz Aldrin, Malcolm in the Middle, Joe DiMaggio, Arthur Miller, the Magnificent Seven, Bruce Springsteen, George Peppard, Burt Lancaster, Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley… CAN YOU HEAR US? Your boys took one hell of a beating!

Looooo-seeeeeers! Looooooooooo-seeeeeers!

(I paraphrase.)

The Prim Mincer and the Prime Minister

Cards on the table time: I don’t like President George W Bush. I don’t like him at all. In fact, to be brutally honest, I think he’s a dangerous, ill-intentioned buffoon, and any American considering voting for him later this year is an asshat.

But that’s quite enough shrewd political commentary for the time being; what I want to talk about is President George W Bush’s walk.

I have a very simple question:

Is it just my imagination, or has the most powerful man on the planet got a totally mincey walk?

Dictionary.com: mince
v. intr: To walk with very short steps or with exaggerated primness.

Just look at him the next time he’s on telly: he moves like a bloody Thunderbirds puppet. He holds his arms slightly raised, and swings them totally out of synch with his legs—legs with which he takes ridiculously short (and, it has to be said, prim) steps. He looks completely stupid. It’s embarrassing to watch.

In other words, not only can’t George W talk the talk, he can’t even walk the walk.

(I’m really not making this up, I promise. Just watch him.)

…Oh, yes, and while I’m at it, has anyone else noticed that the UK Chancellor of the Exchequer, Gordon Brown, always talks as if he’s trying to prevent a Fox’s Glacier Mint from popping out of his mouth?

J: What are you doing?
R: I’m writing an item about St Herman.
J: I could have been a long time trying to guess that one.

As an unabashed atheist, I suppose I shouldn’t have much time for so-called saints (many of whom were far from saintly), but I must admit that the devout sceptic in me always had something of a soft spot for St Thomas (of Doubting fame).

If ever we sceptics deserved a patron saint, then St Thomas would surely be our man: “You tell me Jesus has risen from the dead,” said Thom to his colleagues. “Well I’m not buying it until I see some hard evidence.” What a guy!

Anyhow, I only mention patron saints because yesterday I came across the following item on the BBC News website:

Religious legacy lives on in Alaska

The Russian Orthodox church in Alaska is claiming a resurgence in a faith that most people predicted would die out. When Russia sold Alaska to America for $7.2m in 1867 it left little trace on the state—except its religion.

Speeding across calm blue waters we head with pilgrims from around the world towards one of the Russian Orthodox Church’s most holy places. But this is not Russia – it’s Alaska.

Spruce Island, off Alaska’s south coast, was made famous by St Herman, America’s first Orthodox saint.

He and other monks brought orthodoxy to Alaska in 1794, several decades after the Russians conquered this land…

I must admit, I was fascinated to learn that there is a strong(ish) Russian Orthodox church presence in the northernmost of the United States—but not nearly as fascinated as I was to learn that there is actually a St Herman (actually, it turns out there are several). What a totally cool name! And a quick Google image search revealed that St Herman was a bit of a dapper dude.

Awesome beard, Herm! From now on, you’re joining my (small) personal collection of patron saints.

Every atheist should have one.

J: You’re a really cheerful chappie, aren’t you?
R: Yes, I suppose I am.
J: I could never live with a miserable bastard.
R: It isn’t easy, believe me.

The Co-operative Bank’s smile.co.uk homepage currently includes a fun survey:

Who do you turn to for money advice?

• my old dad
• a financial adviser
• mags and newspapers
• my mates
• no one – I make my own mind up

Their survey overlooks one option offered in the bank’s latest Keep Smiling email newsletter, which I received yesterday:

Your money and the stars
Take a look at Astro Anns predictions for the future. Whether its your finances or your love life you need a little guidance on, our resident Astrologer is at your service.

Yes, that’s right: the Co-operative Bank—an organisation which prides itself on its ethical policy—has evidently decided that it is not unethical to treat its customers like fucking idiots by offering them the services of a soothsayer.

To make matters worse, the link provided from the email newsletter to the bank’s astrology page contains embedded information in the form of a unique id code which will presumably allow the bank to monitor (through a program entitled mon.aspx referred to in the link) the clicking of the link. In other words, not only is the Co-operative Bank treating all of its customers like fucking idiots, but it is also tracking which ones actually are fucking idiots. I can see why this might be seen as extremely useful business intelligence.

I don’t have a bank account with Smile, only a few ISAs. I will be moving them to another bank forthwith.

Someone with the unlikely name of Too Louche comments:

scott mills just nicked your joke and used it on radio one about 30 seconds ago

And someone with the equally unlikely name of Ginger Girl says in my guestbook:

I just heard them use your joke about the woman with the big glasses on radio one. your site is cool x x

Well, I suppose it beats being misquoted on Radio 4.

(Actually, it would appear that somebody else started the meme.)

Yesterday, we decided to be frightfully Northern and have a day out in Blackpool. I’m by no means a fan of the place, having spent an eternity of a weekend there one November a few years ago. But yesterday’s weather was glorious, and the company was fairly acceptable, and, on the whole, it didn’t turn out too bad.

We started at St Anne’s, where the tide was out—about a mile out. But we went for a paddle anyway, and we got to see a huge flock of knots—one of the natural wonders of the British Isles.

After the obligatory ice creams, we then headed off to Blackpool proper, and had a drive along the front. After skimming some stones at a quiet beach at the north end of town, we headed back to the main drag, and had fish & chips at Harry Ramsden’s.

And then we went home.

But, when we got home, I discovered that the soles of my feet were totally black. One shower, and a half-hour session with a scrubbing brush in the bath later, and my feet are a slightly greyer shade of black. I’m not kidding: I really can’t shift the stuff.

I have absolutely no idea where the black came from, but I think the clue might be in the name.

A friend has asked me to help settle an argument: is Councillor Eileen Kinnear (Cons, Harrow on the Hill) wearing glasses in her official photo?

I think she might be, but it’s difficult to be sure. What do you think?

I know I shouldn’t laugh at my own jokes, but it’s about the only thing I’m really good at…

Jen and I did a spot of landscape gardening today. Basically, we destroyed a rockery. We need a low-maintenance garden, and this particular rockery had reverted to unmowable grassland.

Unfortunately, the rockery contained some very large rocks. Fortunately, we had exactly the right tools for the job, in the shape of a hefty mattock to loosen the rocks from the surrounding soil, a trowel to excavate underneath, and a large, wooden fence-post to act as a lever.

Several rocks later, I was totally knackered, and I had developed a distinct twinge in my lower back…

Yes, my friends, I seem to have developed post-trowel-mattock stress disorder.