Gruts

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Worst nightmare

St Petersburg Times: Youth Groups Say the Time Has Come to Oppose Putin

Two liberal youth movements joined forces on Thursday in their fight against President Vladimir Putin's policies and claimed the time was right for a mass pro-democracy movement in Russia similar to those in Ukraine and Serbia…

If such a movement were to form in Russia, the Kremlin would see its worst nightmare come true, political analysts said.

Blue Mass. Group: Howie Carr gives you another reason to vote for Tim Schofield

…Howie has just given you yet another good reason to go out and work to help Tim Schofield win tomorrow's special election to fill the 18th Suffolk seat: you can make Howie Carr's worst nightmare come true.

These politicians must have awfully tame nightmares, if that's the worst they can come up with.

My worst nightmare involved my grandmother's fur stole coming alive and leaping at my throat. I was about five at the time. For years afterwards, I was totally terrified of weasels and stoats (I didn't know the dead thing around my grandmother's neck was called a mink).

Now that's a worst nightmare.

Bapera

I'm no Philistine, but I'm not exactly a culture-vulture either. I read plenty of books, but I don't get through many novels (life's too short). I enjoy a huge variety of music, but, as far as I'm concerned, rap should be spelt with a capital C. I don't claim to know much about art, but I know what's shite.

Floating high amongst the shite come two of the most highly subsidised art forms: ballet and opera. Never been there, never seen either, never bought the T-shirt—and probably never will. (OK, maybe I am a bit of a Philistine.)

But hold on! I've just had a totally awesome idea for a new art form. I thought of it, so I get to name it. I'm calling it bapera.

As the name implies, it's a cross between ballet and opera.

If you think about it, ballet and opera have a lot in common (both done to music, both shite), but there is also a huge gulf between them:

ballet: ultra-fit, ultra-lean homosexuals in leotards, keeping their mouths shut;
opera: ultra-fat, ultra-bearded heterosexuals in togas, bellowing their lungs out.

Bapera merges the two: ultra-fat, bearded tenors, prancing around the stage in leotards, bellowing on about swans!

Hell, I'd pay top whack to see that!

Remember, you heard it here first.

Postscript: Hey, I've just thought of another one—a cross between rap and opera. I'm calling it crapera.

Saving 120 million birds and animals with one stone

BBC: Cat allergies 'could be blocked'
Scientists say they have developed a technique which could prevent allergies caused by cats.

Wouldn't it be far easier—and more environmentally friendly—simply to prevent cats?

New Scientist (28-Apr-2001): Every year in Britain, pet cats kill about 120 million birds and mammals—and about 6 million reptiles and amphibians. Thanks to feeding by humans, this predator has achieved densities that no natural ecosystem could support, to the detriment of wildlife.

Aren't cats one form of bio-terrorism we can actually do something about? Put a solution to the real cat problem in your manifesto, Messrs. Blair, Kennedy or (no, really) Howard, and you'll get my vote.

Go on, you cowards. I dare you!

See also: A Modest Proposal

Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?

Observer: Blair seeks the Christian vote
Tony Blair will make a fresh pitch for the Christian vote this week as Labour tries to refocus the debate over religion and politics away from inflammatory rows over abortion.

BBC: Williams urges debate on abortion
The Archbishop of Canterbury has joined the debate on abortion by calling for an urgent review of the current law.

Religion and politics, eh, don't you just love them? We're turning into America. Anyone would think there was a general election in the offing.

While we're at it, can we please also have an urgent review of the separation of church and state (or lack thereof in England), hereditary bishops in the House of Lords, creationism in British schools, homophobia in the Anglican church, and whether the existence of an omniscient god denies humans free will?

They don't like it up 'em, Mr Mainwaring!

Australopittecus

I watched Troy on DVD the other week. All the way through it, I kept wondering who Brad Pitt (Achilles) reminded me of. I've just worked it out:

No, not sour grapes at all, actually. I just think he's kind of funny-looking.

It was twenty years ago today…

Durham University, Tuesday, 19th March, 1985, evening:

Hitchin has somehow convinced me, a northern, beer-swilling science undergraduate, to come along to the Law Department disco. I have no idea how he managed to do this. The event is held at the Q-Ball Club, a pool- and snooker-themed discothèque near the centre of town. (Don't look for it, it's not there any more.) I have been warned to be on my best behaviour.

So Hitchin and I and a few lawyer types are sitting drinking beer, and talking, as one does in such company, without prejudice, about Carlill v The Carbolic Smokeball Company and torts and lawyerly stuff like that, when this TOTAL BABE walks up to our table, and starts talking to the lawyers.

I immediately realise that this must be her, the heart-throb of the Law Department—the young lady I have heard so much about from another lawyer acquaintance of mine, Keith (but definitely not—for the record, Soo, if you're reading this—from Hitchin, oh Good Lord no!). At the risk of repeating myself, this young lady is a TOTAL BABE.

At this point, I should probably try to describe the vision of loveliness before me. But I'm not going to for a very good reason: I have no recollection whatsoever of what she looked like (other than her being a TOTAL BABE, that is—did I mention that?). We're talking twenty years ago, for Pete's sake! My memory is one big blur.

THAT'S IT! THAT'S WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE! ONE BIG BLUR!

I was just starting my seventh pint, you see.

So, anyway, I'm averting my eyes, trying not to draw attention to myself by saying anything (a fundamental flaw in my chat-up technique), when I suddenly realise that the TOTAL BABE is addressing me! I remember her words exactly:

"Come on, let's dance!"

I look behind me to see who she's really talking to, but there's nobody there. She's asking me for a dance! Yeah, right. Hitchin has put her up to this, the bastard.

I explain to the TOTAL BABE that I don't do dancing. She repeats that she'd very much like to dance with me. I say that I'm really not into dancing. She says please. I say that, in fact, I'm totally crap at dancing. She is insistent, saying that it doesn't matter that I can't dance. I explain that I've just got myself a pint. She (I'm not making this up) picks up my pint and downs it in one!

MY KIND OF WOMAN!

The next thing I know, I'm surrounded by four hefty lawyers. They grab my arms and legs, carry me over to the dance floor, and dump me on my back on the flashing perspex.

I'm not going to be pushed around by a bunch of lawyers. So I stay there, lying flat on my back in the middle of the dance floor, while the TOTAL BABE and assorted lawyers dance round me.

Later, after he has given me a well-deserved slapping, Hitchin swears blind he didn't put her up to it.

I never saw her again.

Enceladus

BBC: Atmosphere found on Saturn moon
…[Saturn's moon,] Enceladus is the most reflective object in the Solar System.

I reckon my bathroom mirror would give it a good run for its money.

Fra'raanj-uh!

Pitchfork: The Fall to Release 6xCD Peel Sessions Box
On April 25, 50,000 people (give or take) will get even poorer when Sanctuary Records releases a six-disc collection of the Fall's sessions with John Peel. With performances starting from 1978 and continuing through 2004, the set will constitute as exhaustive and thorough a Fall collection as is currently on the market (lofty praise, given that the band has 25 studio albums and approximately 50 live and compilation albums floating around). The Fall: The Complete Peel Sessions 1978-2004 will bring together, as the title clearly implies, all 24 of the band's Peel Sessions, and will include a 30-page booklet with some insight into the recording sessions or, at the very least, some pretty pictures.

And get this: it will even include a Fall cover of Captain Beefhearts Beatle Bones 'N' Smokin' Stones .

Wooo! It's like heaven, I said!

Sheepdog

BBC: Wolfowitz to spread neo-con gospel
By nominating Paul Wolfowitz to be head of the World Bank, President George Bush appears to be sending a message to the world that he intends to spread into development policy the same neo-conservative philosophy that has led his foreign policy.

Neo-conservative, eh? That's new conservative. Now there's an oxymoron if ever I heard one. With the emphasis on the moron.

Clever joke

Fitz is always stealing my jokes and then accusing me of having stolen them off him, so, just for the record, here's a dead clever joke I just thought of, which he will now no doubt steal:

Q: Who started the Pedant's Revolt?
A: Which Tyler!

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Don't get it? Check out here.

OK, I tell a lie: it's Fitz's joke. (You see, Fitz, it doesn't hurt.)