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Nick himself

Things not to do #1057

I once dried socks in a microwave. It worked quite well.

But yesterday my wife attempted to dry a sports bra on a halogen heater and the result, dear reader, was fucking tragic. I’d show you the photo but I don’t like picturing my wife’s under-garments in a public forum or scrabbling around the bin.

So, kids, don’t do it!

PS. The halogen heater survived.

Wolfgang Pauli…

Wolfgang Pauli, Nobel Laureate, was a stunningly good physicist by any metric. He discovered (invented – we can debate this ’till the cows come home) the “exclusion principle”. Now this is true. Full on true. Basically it means Fermions can’t occupy the same energy levels but Baryons can. For this he won the Nobel*. So did Barack Obama. It really is a fucking laughing academy. Anyway, Pauli made the Universe (or discovered it) and that matters. Apart from getting pissed and having sex that was kinda what I did at College. I once had to do this. If that sounds dull, it was.

I also wrote a thesis on Kurt Gödel, He had some interesting views on GR (I’m a bit of a spesh on GR). Seriously! And time travel and formal logic – I am very dull. Well, I’m a Whovian so… I mean what is the effing point of having degrees in physics and astrophysics if you can’t build a time machine? None! I did this to understand the Universe and not be carted round as a spacka. That is a terrible thing to say but I said it. I also have a shed and no time machine. Possibly because it’s impossible. It is BTW.

Tonight I’m off to the Royal Exchange Theatre to see Orlando starring the TARDIS. Yes, that is me. She is also known as Suranne Jones. But she is still the TARDIS. And bow-ties are cool.

Always the TARDIS for me. Well, I don’t watch Corrie do I? So should be fun seeing Idris and the Royal Exchange is a lovely theatre. It really is but then I guess you expect that in what to all extents and porpoises is our second city – Glasgow is Jockulent and Brum is well, Brum. I live in abouts Manc for a reason. I mean we have a proper China Town and stuff. We have a Gay Village and not just a street as Newcastle has. Having said that Newcastle does have the best named gay bar ever – “Camp David” – always cracks me up. That is the work of Genius. My bro pointed it out to me and I was Laughing and Grief for like 20 minutes. A few years back the council tried to pursue the “pink pound” to risible results. Nobody – gay, straight or whatever goes on holiday to Newcastle. They just don’t. I mean I might be tempted to go see Stephenson’s Cottage and his first railway but that is walking distance from my Mum’s house and that is not exactly a holiday is it? I’ve walked there with my wife – actually every girl I have dated. I am a hot date! I’ll also use it as an opportunity to get onto the theory of thermodynamics – upon which I can bore for the Commonwealth. It is quite amazing I happen to have spent the best part of the last twenty years in relationships with girls.

H/T to Samizdata for getting me thinking on Pauli. Now, the Pauli quote is “ganz falsch”. Literally “quite wrong” with the meaning in German of, “Not even wrong”. Or in Geordie, “best bollocks”.

* Dear Joe Stalin objected. He believed Pauli was trying to prove Fermions refused to collectivise. Seriously. Of course. They have half integer spin! This has nowt to do with politricks. This is truth. This is just the way things are. No quantity of Marxist-Leninism changes reality.

Pauli wasn’t just a great physicist (though he was – money quote comes from Richard Feynman – he get’s doorstepped at the Nobel “do” and asked by a press fella to explain in five minutes what he did to win the Nobel, “Right, pal, if I could explain in five minutes it wouldn’t have been worth a Nobel would it?” I guess not). He was a great critic of physics. You utilise sloppy thinking in a seminar and Pauli is there and mutters “ganz falsch” you have met a stranger in the Alps.

Quids…

The Daily Fail just has to say this. OK, it’s bimetallic but that is it. It doesn’t really look like the Euro. More to the point if we are introducing a new coin design does that not imply a commitment to Sterling? I don’t want the Euro. Guess why? Euro notes are OK. Euro Coins are very difficult to distinguish and God alone knows what they make ‘em from but after a couple of years they look tatty as Hell. Look, I can get myself around say US coinage, or Czech or Polish or British but Euros don’t float my boat. OK, so like the Euro coin it’s bimetallic but so is the GBP2 coin which I rather like. “Standing on the shoulders of giants” and all that caper. But dear me! The Euro cents I handled in Amsterdam recently just looked rough – like they came from one of those toy tills. They looked like they had been through a Belgian. Or an Alsation. Something of that kidney. They all look the bloody same yet different. Having different national images is a pain because whereas we have instantly identifiable symbols whereas having a variety of national symbols on the reverse you don’t bloody know – I mean you know if it is German* or French but it isn’t obvious if it is 10c or 20c. It identifies where the coin came from but not what it is worth. Having them all the same colour is a hyper-pain too. The notes work. The coinage doesn’t. And it looks shonky. It doesn’t look like the Euro my dear Fail. It looks nothing like it. I think it looks quite nice. Although by 2017 I bet it won’t buy a Coke but that is another matter. And there is also too many. I like the US system (I know they have other coins) but largely it’s 1,5,10,25 and that is your small onion. Works. OK, the fact that the nickel is bigger than the dime always annoyed me but nothing to the Euro. I also liked the dollar bill. I, being a Brit, am just not used to holding a wad of foldable. I felt like a movie star though in truth I had about enough to go to Wendy’s for a burger. The smallest paper you get here is a fiver which is worth roughly USD8.30**.

But, let’s get back to the score. The pound coin is not being scrapped. The Fail is mongering the scares. It is being replaced. Fair enough. It still has her Britannic Majesty’s head on it. It looks fuck all like a Euro. I quite like it.

*The German one has Norman Foster’s “Friendly Eagle” on it. You know the one that doesn’t invade Poland. And let us all be grateful for that. Because the last time that happened…

**So I say to my wife. “That’s good – can we go to the USA”. Problemo. Myt wife is a translator and is often paid in USD so that isn’t good. Swings and bloody roundabouts. You simply can’t win. You can run but if you do so you’ll only die tired.

Aidgentina

I did not know we gave foreign aid to Argentina. Or Brazil. Seeing as they are not exactly potless God knows why especially we give money as if this is some cockamamie attempt to curry favour we haven’t exactly got very far. Let’s look at the evidence shall we? Brazil has a space program, Brazil is hosting not just this year’s football World Cup but the next Olympics. It’s like crying poverty because you can’t afford to fill the Bentley. As to Argentina. Well, they fucking hate us. They shouldn’t of course because oddly enough we historically have strong links of blood and culture with Argentina but they have a perennial knicker-twist over the Falklands. Oh, and the Argentinian government has just gone on a spree of arms buying. Although God alone knows (and the Pope is an Argentine recall) what the be-buggery they will manage to do with a squadron of knackered Spanish Mirages.

Look, don’t get me wrong… I am not 100% contra international aid (there is a reason I was conceived in Zambia). Zambia had a space program as well. My parents were paid by the FCO to teach out there and I guess fair enough. Up to a point and all that but most of my adult life has seen me living in English inner-city areas: Nottingham, London, Leeds, Manchester and they all have loads of places you can wire money back to the old country from. This genuine charity is larger than the official stuff in scale and is vastly better targeted. That is the future of aid – the little things like getting your uncle a cellphone so he knows where to land the fish he caught etc. Of course that means making life easier for non-EEA citizens to work here and we can imagine the howls over that – UKip et. al. are already doing their ends over Poles and such. I don’t have a problem myself but people seem obsessed with the idea of employment as a zero-sum game. It seems connected to the idea that “creating jobs” is a “good thing” in and of itself. No it isn’t. Imagine trying to explain what you do to a pig-poker from 1725? They’d probs burn you at the stake – “He be consorting with the demons of the HTML”. Destroying jobs is the “good thing”. It of course creates jobs our ancestors would never believe. And who wouldn’t rather design computer games than wallow in shit with the piggies? A woman I spoke to on a train once doing a BSc in games design thought otherwise. Blimey, I envied her! That is like so cool.

She was also very good looking but then life is a series of events.

Ukip MEP Paul Nuttall said the Chancellor should find savings by stopping aid that goes to countries who “don’t need it”.

Mr Nuttall was speaking during a debate on the BBC show [Question Time] about Mr Osborne’s recently announced plans to cut the welfare bill by £12 billion in the two years after the 2015 election.

Mr Nuttall said: “The welfare budget under Labour spiralled out of control, it could not go on and something had to be done.

“However there is another budget which is ringfenced which comes to around £12bn, it is called the foreign aid budget.

“I am not against giving money to countries who are in dire need, people who need to be fed. But what I am against is giving money to countries like Argentina and Brazil.

“I believe the way you should pay for these cuts is by going to the foreign aid budget and taking money off countries who don’t need it because quite frankly that’s your tax and it should be spent on our own people.”

Whilst I appreciate the principle of Nuttall there is a problem. How can I explain this? Here is a start…

It was reported over the weekend that Argentina have [sic] received £2m in aid from Britain since 2012.

Now two million quid sounds a lot to you and me but in the grand scheme it is fuck all. That is money Osborne can lose down the back of the sofa. Yes, the principle of not giving Argentina money (it annoys me) is sound but if anyone believes that is going to impact the deficit then they really need to think a bit deeper. Ukip are either being thick or dishonest.

I dunno. I do know we should not give government aid to Argentina but I also know the quantities involved are not a scratch upon the buttock of the body politrick’s pissing money up a rope. I do though believe in being much more open door (which UKip isn’t) rather than saying ‘eff off but we’ll give you monies.

In 1993 I bought a PC (my first but not my last). It was a second-user Elonex 386-SX16 and was truly abysmal (cheap, mind). I am fine with Bill and Melinda Gates giving a stunning sum to the potless and starving. I did and do through them. Fine.

I believe in charity and though I am not a rich man I do not starve I believe in charity in the sense of money, goods, whatever freely given. Not, absolutely not, cash taken from me by force. Jesus Christ! In the 1980s there was a famine in Ethiopia and I (despite being a primary school kid) organised a “Santa’s Grotto” which meant wearing me ma’s tights because I wound-up dressed-up as “head elf”. We raised a few hundred notes. I did that off my own bat and my mates came in. That is charity.

That is what it should be about.

Paranoid Android

So, Ray Kurzweil has joined Google (or Skynet) in an attempt to push AI into the Nexus 6 phase or something. I have some thoughts on all this but they are quite complicated and can wait.

Meanwhile back on Planet Nick I’ve got a problem with my Android phone.

I was trying to change my wallpaper to a nice photo I’d taken and got the error:

“Unfortunately, Google+ has stopped.”

My vague understanding is Google+ handles a lot of the multimedia type antics so this is bloody magic. This has happened apropos of nothing I can think of. I really haven’t messed around with the phone which I’ve only had about 3-4 months. It’s a Motorola RAZRi* on the Three network. It’s a nice phone and hasn’t been any hassle. I got it because it was cheap(ish), tough as hell (aluminium, Gorilla Glass, Kevlar) and has a one-touch from dead straight into camera which is cool because I wanted a snap-shot camera (lugging a DSLT and lenses etc being something I only do if I know there is something to photograph). It’s Android 4.1.2. The only app I have installed is Google Starmap and that was a while back and was seamless. It’s free and a pretty good app.

Now. I have tried clearing the cache and doing a hard reboot. I haven’t cleared the app data (I saw that suggested but I am loathe because I dunno what that deletes exactly though it’s about 800K so it can’t be too much). I guess I could always just yank the piccies to a computer and do a factory reset but I kinda want to understand what is going on and all that. And I’d have to put all my contacts in again…

Any help gratefully appreciated.

*i.e. a Google Motorola. Ask me Lenovo can’t get cracking soon enough.

Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius

This is an answer to Sam about words, meaning and control.

George Orwell got it right. Partly right but this (though the pdf has sps) is bang on the money. This is arguably the single most important work of fiction of the C20th. It’s quite long but please do read. And I make no apology for possibly re-posting.

Where Orwell went wrong was the “boot on the face”. Totalitarianism (read as unreality) does not need violence. It can be done “softly”. Borges clocked that one. That matters. That matters a lot. Why? Well… It is harder to resist.

What strikes me as the genius of the work is all too various but I’ll say a few things. Without nouns (and Tlön lacks even the concept of nouns) science is not possible. Without science civilization (as we know it) is not possible. The second thing is that Borges wrote this in 1940 and in a sense it has come to pass. The real, physical world, is less important than the virtual one to many. Yes and I sort of include myself here. The possibility of a Tlön happening is very, well, possible in an age of computer games and stuff like that.

Pope Francis is dead wrong when he talks about how materialistic we are. That is not the problem. Our lack of connection with the material is the real problem. Pope Francis ought to know this because Catholicism is a materialistic religion in the sense that it believes stuff exists. Father Brown knew this and he didn’t even materially exist except in the mind of G K Chesterton and on my bookshelves. Of course these days “materialist” is a dirty word because it is taken to mean “greedy”. Believing that matter exists is not the same thing as wanting more shoes than Victoria Beckham. I only have two feet anyway. So I am a materialist. I didn’t do a physics degree to learn at the final lecture none of this actually exists. So matter matters. And therefore nouns matter. Without them we don’t have stuff or even a way of describing stuff.

What we do have is eternal procession of things happening. We have Tlön which is a lie. OK, I’ll grant you Quantum Mechanics is a bit vague on stuff but that’s QMech for you and you didn’t expect the base-code of the Universe to be easy did you? I do know what I just said there. What I’m trying to say is things happen and they happen to things.

Right, I shall now (for my next trick) try to put the cat into a box.

I bet Erwin Schrödinger never did that. Taking dear little Timmy (who puked on the stairs this morning) to the vet is a grim ordeal which involves losing more skin than Cher having a facelift.

Timmy, you are not going into a box, yet.

Kenyan fiddling with a kid.

Sex attacker is confronted by his victim in Kenyan court… a female GOAT (and he is jailed a record ten years for ‘defiling’ it)

defiling the goat? He’s not precisely covered himself in glory has he either? I mean it might have been a very attractive goat – to other goats but… it’s a goat.

A man who was jailed for 10 years for having sex with a female goat came face-to-face with his victim in a Kenyan court.

The goat watched quietly from the corner of the court room in Malindi while Katana Kitsao Gona, 28, was jailed for bestiality.

I’m really not sure about this story. It is quite possibly the first time he came (oh, er missus!) face to face with said beast. My vague understanding (and I could be very wrong) is the only critters who have sex face-to-face are humans and bonobos. Personally I don’t think he ought to have got chokey. Surely the stare of the goat* and his naming and shaming is enough? I mean that happened a few years back to a bloke from Hull who was caught molesting a goat by a railway line. He was fined (the goat was deemed OK by police vets) rather than ten years in the tank but his career was ruined. He was a chef. Well, who is going to employ a chef who sodomizes goats? And it is sodomy by pretty much any rational definition. Call me odd and all but sex with another human regardless of gender is like whatever. Shagging a goat is basically not OK. Do I have to explain why? And why the Mail has to state prominently that it was a female goat is beyond me. I suppose you just shouldn’t shag the nanny.

Anyway, on with this tale of utter depravity…

According to Jimmy Kimaru, chief prosecutor, Gona was caught sexually assaulting the goat in a bush.

It really doesn’t get better than that. Some of us dream of Brad Pitt or Keira Knightley on a Caribbean beach and some of us fuck goats in the backwoods of Kenya. Admittedly a female goat but quite frankly that doesn’t make a quantum of WTF to me. And why did this vile crime happen?

Gona, who pleaded guilty, told the court his wife is disabled and depends on him daily. Despite this, the judge jailed him for a record 10 years for ‘defiling’ the animal.

Well, as I said before some crimes are in a sense their own punishment. This is a very libertarian stance. Would you employ the goat-fucker of Malindi? No and neither would I. If you were his wife would you not seek a divorce? Obviously you would! There is not a court on the planet that would deny you. I mean an affair with another human might be forgiven but screwing a goat in a bush is simply unforgivable.

And now we get onto arguably the meat of the deal. I think the Dr Who character of Captain Jack is interesting. He is frequently described as “bisexual” but he is is actually “omnisexual” and I think calls himself that. So why does that matter here? He fancies males and females of every bipedal, thinking, speaking race in the Universe. OK, I’m fine with that but a goat is different. What is clever about Captain Jack is a couple of things. The first is there is very little hint in Dr Who of interspecies pregnancies (I’m gonna get called on that) and in that respect it is much more on the biological money than Star Trek (score one for the Brits!) but it acknowledges that sex is not just about procreation. And it acknowledges another thing. If one accepts that (and some don’t) then you have to face a tricky question and Captain Jack answers it very well. He is prepared to fancy different species so therefore he can’t see gender as that important. I think that is interesting. Obviously Captain Jack would never fuck a goat but he kissed both The Doctor and Rose. I guess what I’m getting at is that interspecies sex is acceptable in a fantasy setting (think Beren and Luthien) iff (not an sp) the species are roughly comparable and able to give informed consent and stuff. In short an Elven princess is one thing and a goat is quite, quite different.

Seeing as there is a species difference either way I’m not entirely sure if I can make a solid point here and I have to just really on the “yuk” factor to a certain extent here but… let’s face it making love to Arwen in the Royal Bedchamber of Minas Tirith beats the Hellskis out of goat-fucking in a bush in Kenya.

Pretty much anything beats that. The last time I had a filling beats that.

Quotes from The Mail.

*Goats have nasty stares. I recall an incident on a Greek island in the ’90s when I was surrounded by goats and the leader of the pack – a big billy with horns poised at my scrotum gave me a vile stare. I thought it about to charge and de-bollock me but then the goatherd turned-up. I have rarely if ever been more pleased with a Greek fellow entering stage left. I had also accidentally nearly troden on a snake about ten minutes before which was seriously nonplussed. Beautiful island but full of things that wanted to kill me.

Day of the Doctor.

It is today. It is a fixed point in time and space and I shall be there – or at least in Stockport (the Manchester tickets had gone) – to see the 50th anniversary show live in 3D in the cinema. Cool. I shall not be alone. This is being shown live in 94 countries in 1500 cinemas live. This has never been done before. My wife recently bought the 50th anniversary edition of Dr Who Magazine. It has a copy of the 1964 first anniversary edition of the mag which includes a letter from a reader saying that the Who was the best programme (don’t we call ‘em “shows” now) on either channel. How times change!

I should have bought a fez for the night. Fez’s are cool. There is nothing more but this…

Shieldmaidens.

From wikipedia

When Leif Ericson’s pregnant half-sister Freydís Eiríksdóttir was in Vinland, she is reported to have taken up a sword, and, bare-breasted, scared away the attacking Native Americans. The fight is recounted in the Greenland saga, though Freydís is not explicitly referred to as a shieldmaiden in the text.

Jebus wept! A pregnant half-naked Viking woman charging you with a sword. I’d run away. And do it screaming like a 1D fan. That one must have been emotional. And yeah I’d well call her a shieldmaiden.

I am no man.

The idea that women can’t or don’t fight is bizarre. Anyone who feels that way ought to have met some of my ex-girlfriends or Freydis with her tits out and a sword in hand. No, my domestics never got quite that dramatic. We had knives or hammers at extremis but that was all.

But by buggery, charging bare-breasted with a sword. Respect!

That is fucking top quality. It really is.

I have done questionable things. What I haven’t done is ran like a total mentalist with my 34Ds out whilst wielding a sword.

I kinda wish I had.

Snapdo

I have a Snapdo infection on Win Vista on my old Toshiba Tecra M9. I have tried all the spells in the book but it keeps on coming back. Essentially Windows installer just goes round and round when I nix the installed Snapdo and that has to be removed. I’m normally pretty good on this sort of stuff but this is a bastard and no mistake. Any ideas?

The main problem seems to be it just seizes when you try and do any of the sensible things. I couldn’t even get as far as trying to expunge it from the Reg.

And no, I have tons of stuff on this so “nuking it from orbit” is not an option.

Thanks,

Nick.

PS If I ever catch the bastard behind this then it is a case of Mr Soldering-Iron meet Mr Urethra.

A Reply to Paul Marks.

You won’t get me now or ever to swear on the Bible, the Torah, the Qu’ran, the collected works of JK or anything else.

My word is my bond. Simples.

I would shed blood, tears and toil to defend my village (on the outskirts of Manchester) and if people of any faith or none (such as me) bled, sweat and toiled with me to save my England and their England then I would gladly be at their side – regardless of their faith. Our country is far from ideal but it ain’t Somalia. And that is worth fighting for. I mean the only time I was a pirate was playing the Sid Meier game “Pirates” and that was on a Commodore Amiga.

I would try to avoid dying for my country* but if push comes to Noel Chavasse I’d like to think I would stand. I would probably be bloody useless on the frontline but I would stand. I’m more a backroom lad. But that is by the by and every spear needs a shaft. And I am part of the shaft.

Yes, I, un-baptised heathen though I am, would fight, kill and die for England. It is my country. And there are much worse places to come from. I could have been Yemeni – that would have been hilarity wouldn’t it?

I don’t believe in God (well I am a Spinoza-ish pantheist – sometimes) but asking me to swear an oath to God is just wrong. And it is wrong because the meat of it is swearing something I do believe in (such as telling the truth ot being a loyal soldier) but but swearing it by something I don’t believe in would make a total mockery of an oath I would wish to swear with utmost solemnity. Not least because if I went into battle I also wouldn’t want the person next to me to have sworn an oath he or she didn’t believe in either…

I don’t believe in God. I do believe in the defence of the Realm. If I became a soldier, sailor or airman why should I have to add on a belief in something I just don’t believe in and moreover would not that make my deep oath utterly meaningless? Anyhow, why can’t agnostics fight! Or atheists? Why does disbelief in God mean disbelief in everything?

* “No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country.” General George S Patton.

Magnifying Specs…

I’m in the market for a pair of them magnifying/ illuminating specs for digging inside computers. Any ideas? If it’s avail. on Amazon that’s grand for I have vouchers.

PS. I just bought a new smartphone from Three. They put it in a bag clearly marked “Three” or in Charver “Mug that guy”. It’s a Motorola RAZRi which suits me. Thanks to all the folks who commented. I have often posted on personal consumer choices here and always been astonished and humbled by how good you guys are. Central Manc-land was panda-fucking-monium this after.

I overheard this gem from some geezer in the Carphone Warehouse. He was trying to flog a high-end Sony to an middle-aged couple…

“Well, it’s waterproof so you can take pictures of yourself under the bath water mind that depends on what assets you have to photo”. I just left. They seemed to think it OK. Yup, the possibility to photograph sodden genitals on 4G and upload to facebook and see if anyone “likes”. Magic. That is precisely what this tech was invented for.

About 18 years ago I bought my first PC – a Elonex 386SX clocked at 16Mhz with 4 Meg of RAM and a 120Meg HD. This bugger has (if memory serves) !Gb of working RAM, a 2GHz Intel Atom chip and 5Gb of storage (which is upgradeable by micro SD). The computer cost GBP350 (inc monitor) second hand. The brand new phone cost GBP150. In some bizarre sense I am aware of this progress and it repels me that a salesman might even suggest this wondrous technological advance is great so that a middle-aged man might take sub-aqua pictures of his cock. That and the salesman just sounded a sleazy git.

No matter. The nice lady in the Three shop made no crass sexual comments, was helpful and friendly and I now have more computing power in my top-pocket than a Bond villain had in his volcano. And no I didn’t ask if they’d throw in a Mao suit and a Persian cat. Or the fit birds with up-does, specs, lab coats and clipboards. Ah, well, I guess World domination can wait. I have to clean the bathroom anyway.

Having said all that about my spanky new phone the trip in or out of town on Northern Rail was Asoka. Not for the first time I fare-dodged not through any desire to do but because I simply couldn’t buy a ticket. Having said that I felt Turd World – especially when I entered the bog which was veritably Greek in standards partly because any quantity of junk had been chucked down it because there were no bins. The Dame Judith was… Well, if you’d bottled that Tony Blair would be off the hook over Iraqi WMDs. It smelt like their had been a fucking cholera epidemic localised to one train khazi. It was unbe-fucking-believable. But if Northern Rail can’t be fecked to sell tickets (one wonders what their gubbmunt grunt is?) I can’t be fecked to buy them. Or more to the point I just simply couldn’t. And I had the money on the hip.

Christ almighty! It is dismal. There was no way I could have easily walked-out of the Three store with my phone without paying for it but Northern Rail… Put it this way, which company would you buy shares in?

The Rumble in the Ryton Jungle.

Remember when you were at school and the finest entertainment on offer was either a ZX-Spectrum or a fight?

This wasn’t a fight as such. It was more of a clinical chinning carried out with strength and skill.

Side note – the chinner, N, I subsequently had a fight with over a complete misunderstanding and we both escaped unscathed because I guess his heart wasn’t in it, I’m good defensively and he fought like a gentleman (as did I). I once had the greasy acne ridden face of the vile D in my hands and just couldn’t bring myself to use my advantage and push those thumbs into his eye-sockets. I guess I learned then I’m not a fighter. I’m nowhere near dirty enough.

Anyway, onto the subject. Or object? Hawthorne was a vile piece of work. He was only at Ryton Comp because he’d been kicked-out of everywhere else. We took a lot of them. Anyway he wandered the school invariably with with his concubines each under an arm in an ape-like progression and wearing knock-off Raybans. He was an amoral cunt of the first water. I mean utterly amoral. And utterly a cunt. He used his size to intimidate and the fact that he very clearly didn’t give a tinker’s for anything good or decent and set himself-up as a sort of spectre of menace on the corridors of the school. I mean like most of us wanted to just get through school with qualifications for jobs or university or the military or something. Hawthorne didn’t give a toss about anything. Even the girls he “squired” were a rotating smorgasbord of slags.

One day though he got too artistic. N had come into the school yard after running training (he was a county sprinter) and put his sports bag down (Head bag – standard issue in the ’80s) with all his stuff in it. Now N was widely regarded as the hardest lad in the year, if not the school and I bet this riled Hawthorne who coveted this “prize” (I use the quotes because N never sort fame or domination or such) so Hawthorne in what can only be described as an “Imp of the Perverse” moment urinated into N’s open bag.

What happened next ought to have been filmed Matrix style with a cool soundtrack. N got the mist and it was red. All his PE kit, his books, everything had been pissed on. I don’t know the time of this action but I can still guess at the distance and it was probably less than 10m. N went into overdrive and Hawthorne went continually backwards under a hail of blows that would shame Jackie Chan. He lost consciousness and also bladder control just against the chainlink around the yard. The teacher on yard duty kept on sucking sweets the whole time – which wasn’t long. A number of things resulted from this…

Hawthorne’s attempt at behaving as an object of menace ceased. I mean after several hundred kids had seen him comatose and spread-eagled with wet trousers his stock as a gangster had diminished.

Nothing happened to N. It was generally seen as a Good Thing.

The chainlink had to be fixed. This is because it partially collapsed due to the crush of kids wanting to see the action.

N continued his athletics and it held him in good stead because the next time after leaving school I saw him was on TV being interviewed by ITN. He had joined the merchant navy and was a junior officer on a tanker that collided with another vessel in the Channel. He got off sharpish when it burst into flames and was one of the few (the only?) survivor on the ship. He ran the length of the deck and leaped to safety into the briny and swam like hell. I suspect if anyone had been there to time it Usain Bolt would be looking a bit sheepish now. I saw him in a local pub shortly after (he’d been given leave) and bought him a pint. A lot of people did.

What happened to Hawthorne I neither know nor care.

But that was an epic fight.

Phone alone – again. Sorry!

I’ve been looking at phones and naturally from the 3 deal on the LG Optimus Prime (OK, the LG Optimus L1 II – but I am of the age where I tend to think of Autobots and Decepticons). I had a Speccy you know. Anyhows I’m now thinking of this…

http://store.three.co.uk/view/product/ql_catalog/threecatdevice/2606?referer=carousel

Anybody see any issues. For me it seems to have the build quality I need (Gorilla glass, KEVLAR at the back, “aerospace” Al chassis and splash proof) , runs Android Midget Gems (or whatever) and has a reasonable (and quick) camera. The LED display is a serious bonus because my wife’s Huawei is shite in the sunlight (and that is in Northern England in mid October!). The camera matters for the perverse reason that I have a pretty good DSLT (Sony Alpha 55) but due to the size of the bugger I don’t always carry and I see comical things which are not exactly Miley Cyrus getting her norks out whilst moodily lit but worth a punt anyway. OK, it’s 150 quid and a Motorola (which I had thought had gone the way of the T-Rex and Nokia) but it seems a decent enough phone. Anyway that is on 3 3-2-1 whixh seems OK to me. Any evils hidden in the deal. I contacted my brother and he seemed to think it OK but then he is an Apple fanboy to the core.

Oh, it’s got a 2GHz chip in it. Cripes!

Why I hate the Daily Mail.

Well, the Miliband stuff is beyond anyone’s pale.

I disagree with Ed Miliband on much but there is a hop, skip and jump between that and the virtual grave-robbing they’ve done recently.

But that (vile though it is) is not the real reason. The real reasons are the comments section called [out of their] Right Minds. It’s like a mirror image of the Guardian’s Comment is Free.

But nah, it ain’t even that. Nor is it the obsession with house prices (like the cost of a basic essential going-up is like a good thing?) or their idea that the entire population of Bulgaria is going to sell children to peadophiles in Midsommer next Thursday.

No. It is (and I have previously mentioned this) the right sidebar called “Femail”. Now apart from the name being hideously cute like a kitten that has just puked on a Persian rug it is (very) soft porn whilst the main editorial rants and raves about porn as though it were the work of Satan himself. The hypocrisy is risible in it’s obviousness. I have seen “Femail” sidebar stories trumpeting some starlet’s weight loss post-partum to size 6 (UK) next to polemics against the “media” (which clearly doesn’t include the Mail) for encouraging eating disorders in kids. Or some rant or rave about binge drinking or whatever next to some pic of some X-Factor wannabe falling out of her dress (and a nightclub) simultaneously.

But the Miliband thing is a shark-jump.

I wouldn’t wipe my arse with the Mail – even if I were Venezuelan.

And this is not because I like Ed Miliband. It is because this is plain nasty. If I disagree with the leader of the opposition I shall so and why. I won’t go after his dead father.

And this is the same paper that has campaigned for mandatory IP porn filters that you have to opt out of to protect the kids. But when it gets called on this dreadful stunt starts wibbling about “press freedom”. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the paper ought to have been banned. I’m not saying they ought to be censored (or whatever) but… If they have the right to offend (and they do) then I have the right to be offended. By their grossness over the late Mr Miliband and their serial set of double standards that makes Dr Erwin Schrödinger’s moggie know whether it is coming or going.

Oh, and their football coverage is shite. Their coverage of WAGs (and their handbags that cost more than my wife’s car) on the otherhand…

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