BBC: Iraqi MPs tell Harry to stay away
Senior figures in the Iraqi government have said Prince Harry should not serve in the country…
The Ministry of Defence has said his deployment is under constant review.
A woman pretending to be a statue yesterday.
There’s this woman in Church Street, Liverpool who wraps herself in sheets, paints her face white, and stands on a box with a bucket in front of her, pretending to be a statue. You can see similar sights in cities throughout Europe.
What the hell do they think they’re playing at? Do they seriously expect me to pay them for standing on a box all day doing nothing? Where’s the skill in that?
People who chalk copies of old masterpieces on pavements I get. I don’t actually pay them, you understand, but they do at least exhibit a modicum of talent and give passers-by a bit of an art lesson. Jugglers: fine, that’s definitely skillful and entertaining. Buskers: well, I’m in total awe of anyone who can play a musical instrument, so good luck to them. But in what way does standing on a box with a bucket in front of you contribute anything to the human experience? Go and get a proper job!
There used to be scruffy, little chap in Liverpool who stood all day holding out a paper cup and wiggling a shrivelled ice popsicle wrapper backwards and forwards very quickly between his fingers. That was his entire act. He didn’t make much money, but at least he had the common decency to move.
Actually, I suspect he wasn’t quite right in the head.
Compare and contrast (my appropriately green emphasis added):
BBC: Nuclear Europe: Country guide – United Kingdom
Working nuclear reactors 23
Reactors decommissioned / out of use 21
Electricity from nuclear power 20%The UK was the first country to use nuclear energy to generate power for large-scale civilian use, opening its first plant in 1956.
The last new reactor was opened in 1995, and Britain has been steadily decommissioning its old plants, with many set to close in the next few years.
BBC: Nuclear Europe: Country guide – France
Working nuclear reactors 59
Reactors decommissioned / out of use 11
Electricity from nuclear power 78%France has been Europe’s most enthusiastic devotee of nuclear power, constructing dozens of reactors since the 1970s oil crises spurred on its desire for energy independence.
It has become the world’s biggest net exporter of electricity
The UK’s energy policy, on the other hand, is to become totally dependent on greenhouse gas imports from a Russia-led cartel.
Here’s a (pretty simple) maths problem for you: a rectangle has an area of 15cm2 and a perimeter of 16cm. What are the lengths of its sides? The answer, if you can’t work it out (or even if you can) is 3cm and 5cm. Here’s how you might work it out:
But hang on a second… Look at the sixth line:
n2 – 8n + 15 = 0
Just think about what that’s saying (bearing in mind that we now know n = 3cm): that’s saying that 9cm2 (an two-dimensional area) take away 24cm (a one-dimensional length) and add 15 (a no-dimensional integer) equals nothing.
HOW THE HELL CAN YOU TAKE AWAY A LENGTH FROM AN AREA? THEY’RE TWO ENTIRELY DIFFERENT THINGS. IT’S LIKE TAKING AWAY CREAM CAKES FROM THE COLOUR BLUE!
Maths is crazy.
BBC: eBay ‘sorry’ over policy change
Auction website eBay has apologised for not giving sellers enough notice about a change to the way it lists items…
Peter Jones says his business has been ‘decimated’, with sales down 90%.
I don’t want to kick a man when he’s down, but it’s far worse than that, Mr Jones: the literal meaning of decimated is down by 10%.
Conversation in the kitchen at work last Friday (I am ‘R’ and my anonymous colleague is ‘X’):
X: “Can you smell fish?”
R: “No.”
X: “Are you sure? I can definitely smell fish.”
R: “No. I have an extremely acute sense of smell, and I can’t smell anything.”
X: [Sniffs armpit apprehensively.]
I love composting. Seriously. It’s fab.
Back in 2002, I built two compost containers in my garden. They’ve seen a lot of action since then, let me tell you. I take great pride in my compost: garden waste, teabags, egg-shells, cardboard, potato peelings, you name it, it goes in there.
Every now and then, though, I like to give my compost a bit of a treat. You know, something a bit different to help develop a richer, more rounded end product. So I pop down to Tescos and buy some exotic fruit—guavas, mangos, passion fruit, stuff like that—and I throw it straight into the compost.
Composting is my own small contribution to helping save the planet.
It’s good to be green.
But did you see It’s Not Easy Being Green on BBC2 this week? Eeeew! There was this women’s Tupperware™-type party for tree-huggers where the saleswoman was trying to convince the other ladies to buy something called a menstrual cup. Some sort of sporting trophy, you might think, but no: the saleswoman explained how a menstrual cup was an environmentally friendly, reusable alternative to certain female sanitary products. You know what I’m talking about. “And when you want to clean them, you just pop them in the dishwasher”, she cheerfully explained.
Dishwasher. Very green.
The dirty, dirty bastards!
I apologise for the sound quality (specifically, the lack thereof). Do I really sound that Scouse?
Oh, and before you say anything, the reason my throwing is so crap on the first video was that I was filming with my right hand while throwing with my left. And my right hand didn’t know what my left was doing.
I await the call of the Academy.
Stense sent me a belated birthday present yesterday (pictured right).
Very droll.
According to the warning on the back of the box, the film contains infrequent, mild references to sex/nudity, some moderate violence, but no language whatsoever.
Not even Italian.
Carol Klein in the Guardian Magazine’s Gardening section two weeks ago (the butler is a bit behind on his reading):
Carrots are prone to attack from carrot fly, but the flies never reach more than a foot or so above the ground, so you can beat them by gravity in elevated pots or raised beds.
Bloody big flies!
I bought Carol’s book Grow Your Own Veg on Friday. Not that I ever will, you understand—but it’s a very pretty book.
I have a horse in the office sweepstake for the 4:15 at Aintree this afternoon (otherwise known as The Grand National). Actually, I have two. My first draw, Thisthatandtother, turned out to be a 129–1 rank outsider, so I took another shot and drew Sonevafushi, which was an even worse 219–1.
I don’t know how I will eventually make my fortune, but it’s a safe bet it won’t be through gambling.
See also: System
Hebden Bridge Times: Countdown to dock pudding cook-offs
Strong competition is expected at the World Dock Pudding championship which is being held in Mytholmroyd a week on Sunday.
Entries have already been received from last year’s winner Doris Hirst, Joan Whitworth who was a champion three years in a row with her husband Trevor before he died two years ago and former champions 15-year-old twins Clare and Kate Morrison which will ensure the contest is keenly fought.
Jen and I cooked some excellent kedgeree this evening. This required the shelling of a hard-boiled egg. I’ve been wanting another shot at shelling a hard-boiled egg ever since I saw this video:
[Video since removed from YouTube]
Holy shit! It only bloody works!
At the risk of sounding over-dramatic, this discovery has transformed my life. Until this evening, I freely admit I was one of the shittest hard-boiled egg shellers on the planet. Now, I consider myself a pro.
(Mind you, Jen wasn’t too keen on eating the damn thing afterwards.)
I fully appreciate this is hardly the right time of year to be worrying about this sort of thing, but you’ll be thanking me in December, mark my words.
Have you ever noticed how the year number changes at the end of each year? Damned confusing. Well, I’ve been doing some reverse-engineering, and I’ve come up with a handy, little formula for working out what next year’s number will be:
(Where yn = next year’s number, and y = the current year’s number. Works for all years after 1 A.D.)
I await the call of the Nobel Committee.
So, is it striped or spotted?
Soak it in petrol, hold a match to it, and… WOOOOF!
Edge: A History of Violence by Steven Pinker
In sixteenth-century Paris, a popular form of entertainment was cat-burning, in which a cat was hoisted in a sling on a stage and slowly lowered into a fire. According to historian Norman Davies, “[T]he spectators, including kings and queens, shrieked with laughter as the animals, howling with pain, were singed, roasted, and finally carbonized.”
And to think they say things have advanced since those days.
See also: Woof!
To allow us to get to Liverpool Derek Hatton Airport in time for our very early flight to Rome the other Sunday, Jen and I spent Saturday night at my parents’, where we were required to watch the final of a minor celebrity talent contest called Dancing On Ice. It was on ITV, the channel that does Foyle’s War and Inspector Morse. I hadn’t realised it also does family entertainment. I use the word entertainment guardedly.
The following conversation took place:
Me: It’s very sporting of that Phillip Schofield to dye his hair silver to fit in with the ice theme.
Jen: Is he famous or something?
Me: He used to be a children’s television presenter. He’s never been the same since he split with Gordon.
Jen: Gordon who?
Me: Gordon the Gopher. He was a glove puppet that squeaked a lot. Phillip Schofield was his straight man.
Mum: I thought you said Jordan.
SMS conversation with Carolyn on Wednesday:
C: What’s that bird called that walks up walls?
R: Catwoman.
New Scientist letters, 07-Apr-2007
From Richard Carter
Last night I took Fred Pearce’s advice and installed 111 energy-efficient light bulbs to offset the 11.1 tonnes of carbon emissions that I will be responsible for this year. All went well, until a passenger airliner en route to Manchester tried to land in my drive.
There must be easier ways to be green.
Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire, UK
Actually, he sounds rather intelligent.