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Erm… Does nobody see the irony in this?
BBC: Scotland exempt from UK flag plan
Proposals to fly the Union flag every day on public buildings are set not to apply to Scotland.
It's a bloody crap flag anyway. We should invent a new one. No design consultants. No children's competitions. No symbollix. Just get someone to come up with a half-decent flag.
One with a biscuit on it perhaps.
Everyone likes biscuits.
A major network upgrade is planned for Gruts HQ this weekend. This won't affect the website, but it does mean there won't be any new content. Normal disservice will continue as soon as possible.
If you don't hear anything by Monday, something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. No flowers.
Update: I emerged from phase one of the network upgrade (the dangerous phase) in one piece. Normal disservice has now resumed.
Guardian: Renewable energy projects will devour huge amounts of land, warns researcher
Large-scale renewable energy projects will cause widespread environmental damage by industrialising vast swaths of countryside, a leading scientist claims today. The warning follows an analysis of the amount of land that renewable energy resources, including wind farms, biofuel crops and photovoltaic solar cells, require to produce substantial amounts of power.
Jesse Ausubel, a professor of environmental science and director of the Human Environment programme at Rockefeller University in New York, found that enormous stretches of countryside would have to be converted into intensive farmland or developed with buildings and access roads for renewable energy plants to make a significant contribution to global energy demands…
The report breaks what Prof Ausubel calls the "taboo of talking about the strong negative aspects of renewables", by focusing on examples that highlight their limitations. "When most people think of renewables and their impact, they're mistaking pleasant landscaping with what would be a massive industrial transformation of the landscape," he said…
Prof Ausubel said that despite technical and political concerns, nuclear power plants still ranked as the most environmentally-friendly for large conurbations. "The good news about nuclear is that over the past 50 years all of the forms of waste storage seem to have worked."
I stopped next to one of those Smart cars at some traffic lights on Tuesday, and couldn't help noticing that the young woman behind the wheel was the spitting image of Paris Hilton.
Then it hit me. Somewhere inside my skull, a remarkably complex network of neurons is being used to store an image of Paris Hilton, along with assorted trivia about her that I won't go into here—this is a family website. Now, there is another set of neurons storing the memory of some poor, unsuspecting girl in a black Smart car. I would surely have forgotten all about her by now, were it not for Paris Hilton.
Paris Hilton is using up space in my brain, and I want it back.
I have far more important uses for my grey matter than storing crap about talentless, American no-marks. Last weekend, for instance, I went upstairs, then realised I had no idea why I had gone up there. Yesterday, I referred to a colleague using the name of a different colleague—I do that all the time. And I still don't have the vaguest recollection of what happened on that pub-crawl with Carolyn all those years ago that she keeps winding me up about.
My brain has limited capacity. It has important jobs to do. Knowing who the shit Paris Hilton is isn't one of them.
Postscript: Less than 24 hours after I wrote the above, I was doing a calculation at work and suddenly realised that I couldn't remember what four times nine is. I knew it would start with a three and the digits would add up to nine, but I couldn't remember what the answer was off the top of my head. I had to work it out by adding 18 to 18 instead.
Paris Hilton has robbed me of 36. Which, by an amazing co-incidence is her IQ.
After making passing reference to my Tesco™ Bag for Life Scam the other day, I was almost inundated with a comment from somebody named Linda who was simply dying to know more. So here goes:
It's dead simple, actually. The people on the checkouts at Tesco are told to award you extra green points on your loyalty card based on how many reusable bags for life you use. They are not told to check that you actually fill all your bags; just that you use them. So, instead of filling up, say, three bags for life, half-fill six bags and get double the green bonus points!
Every little helps.
Me: Did you enjoy your bath?
Jen: Yes thanks.
Me: You've put perfume on. That's unusual.
Jen: I haven't put perfume on.
Me: Well what's that smell, then?
Jen: It might be my shampoo.
Me: [Sniffing Jen's hair] No, that's not it. It's more pungent than that.
Jen: I think you'll find that's Tesco bath cleaner.
I have reluctantly decided not to put myself forward for London mayor. I spent many hours non-existent-soul-searching before coming to this decision. I hope the good citizens of London will try to contain their disappointment, but it was never meant to be.
It wasn't the fact that I have never lived in London that dissuaded me. Dick Whittington didn't come from London either, and it didn't do his mayoral aspirations any harm. What put me off was the realisation that, when it comes to playing politics, I am a witless buffoon. Which kind of makes you wonder why ‘Boris’ Johnson is standing.
Oh, and there was the London stereotypes thing as well. I'm all for stereotypes, but I just don't get the London ones.
At a conference in London a few months ago, I found myself cornered by a loudmouthed Londoner who'd had one too many lager and tonics: "My mate Ken, he's from Chiswick. He's mad is Ken! You know what them Chiswickers are like!" he said. I nodded knowingly, wondering what on earth he was on about. "Whereas me, I'm your typical Barnet-man: steady as they come." He didn't look too steady to me.
Over the course of the next twenty hours, my new friend enthralled me with tales of his mates from Brent, Southwark, Ealing and Lewisham, each of whom respectively matched the Brent, Southwark, Ealing and Lewisham stereotypes, whatever the hell those are supposed to be. I decided it was time to take my leave of Barnet Man when he started harping on about his friends from some place called Warcraft. They sounded like a right bunch of thugs.
Which is why I won't be standing for London mayor, you see. I might be a witless buffoon when it comes to politics, but I do at least know that you have to understand your electorate.
