Firstly, Heroes is back on TV on Thursday! This is excellent news, especially since the Terminator series wrapped up last Thursday, opening a slot.
Additionally, I have been rather enjoying "Pushing Daisies" on ITV, although I do feel compelled to watch "300" after every episode since it's a bit girly. (Actually, it's completely girly, with absolutely no part of it whatsoever that is not entirely girly. With extra girliness, and chocolate sprinkles on top.) There's just something charming about it that I quite like. It might be the narrator - I think I'm going to have to get one of those.
However, and this is the not-cool part: ITV cunningly decided to just completely miss out the second episode! The reason for this is that there are 9 episodes in the series, and there are only room for 8 shows before Euro 2008 starts, so rather than cunningly running a double-bill, or putting it on ITV 3.5, or even (gasp) starting their football coverage a little late, they decided to just cut a bit out and hope that no-one would notice.
(And, really, it's not as if anyone will be watching Euro 2008 on ITV anyway. Not only are England not in the tournament, but the BBC do a far better job of things anyway.)
"Stephen clicked "Publish Post", then powered off his PC and went to watch some TV. He couldn't help but feel that having his very own narrator was terribly open to the possibility of disaster..."
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Freeeeeee-dom?
Earlier this week I received a (pointless, wasteful) leaflet from my local MSP and MEP about how well the new SNP government is doing in bringing a better standard of living to the people of Scotland. Now, to be fair, I should point out that they actually do seem to be doing a good job so far, although I am more than a little concerned that they'll have to put up taxes quite heavily to pay for all of this. Whether this actually happens or not remains to be seen, of course.
However, the leaflet did remind me of something I have been pondering at some length recently, and something I meant to blog about a couple of weeks ago.
I think it is extremely unlikely that Labour will win the next General Election. Gordon Brown simply cannot win the battle of personalities with David Cameron. They cannot win on policy differences, because there is now so little difference between the parties that they feel comfortable simply stealing policies whole-cloth from one another. And whereas he could have recently have stood on his economic record, the sub-prime mortgage disaster has nullified that advantage. (Labour supporters at this point might be inclined to tell me I'm being unfair; the economic problems aren't really his fault. To which I reply: when did fairness enter into the ability to win elections?)
So, anyway, I expect to see massive Tory gains, mostly at the expense of the Liberal Democrats (who, by the simple expedient of stabbing Charles Kennedy in the back went from being the principled opposition, who were steadily gaining ground, back to being a nothing party. Good work, there). And so it is likely that the next Prime Minister will be David Cameron.
In Scotland, the Tories will be lucky to get more than two or three seats. Scotland simply have not forgiven the Tories for Thatcher's shutting down so much of our industry, or for testing out the Poll Tax here, or various other things. It seems doubtful that we ever will.
The biggest consequence of this will be to draw a clear line between the socialist SNP Scottish Executive and the more right-wing Tory government in Westminster. It then seems likely to me that the SNP will leverage this, and also the "Scotland did not elect the Tories" thing, into a very strong platform for the next Scottish elections, and make big gains of their own, this time at the expense of the Labour and Liberal Democrat parties. And, having gained a mandate from the people that they currently lack, we head towards a referendum on independence, a likely victory, and a constitutional crisis...
Sadly, I don't think independence is the right move for Scotland. Firstly, I think there are a whole lot of hidden costs that haven't been considered (we would need to set up a civil service and armed forces of our own, amongst other things, and these aren't cheap). Secondly, I'm not at all convinced that Scotland's economy is really self-sustaining. Of course, the truth of this depends entirely on who you ask: the SNP claim that all that money from the North Sea oil will sustain us completely and in perpetuity; in England, meanwhile, they will tell you that they subsidise the higher quality of life in Scotland to the tune of some absurd number of billions per year. (Whether the quality of life is actually higher in Scotland seems doubtful, of course.)
But really, my biggest concern is for business. It strikes me as likely that an independent Scotland would elect a much more left-wing government than the rest of the UK would, and certainly more left-wing than we have now. It also seems likely to me that such a government would raise taxes somewhat, and in an attempt to avoid raising the base rate of income tax too much, they might well go for business taxes. Which seems fine, until you realise that the response of big business to this is to go elsewhere. While the company I work for are unlikely to make that move, I suspect many others might. And a single company, or even a fairly small number of fairly small companies do not an industry make.
The upshot of all of that is that I might have to move back to England for work. And while the notion of moving back to England isn't particularly troublesome, I would much rather choose to go than be forced to go.
Of course, any or all of this could well be wrong...
However, the leaflet did remind me of something I have been pondering at some length recently, and something I meant to blog about a couple of weeks ago.
I think it is extremely unlikely that Labour will win the next General Election. Gordon Brown simply cannot win the battle of personalities with David Cameron. They cannot win on policy differences, because there is now so little difference between the parties that they feel comfortable simply stealing policies whole-cloth from one another. And whereas he could have recently have stood on his economic record, the sub-prime mortgage disaster has nullified that advantage. (Labour supporters at this point might be inclined to tell me I'm being unfair; the economic problems aren't really his fault. To which I reply: when did fairness enter into the ability to win elections?)
So, anyway, I expect to see massive Tory gains, mostly at the expense of the Liberal Democrats (who, by the simple expedient of stabbing Charles Kennedy in the back went from being the principled opposition, who were steadily gaining ground, back to being a nothing party. Good work, there). And so it is likely that the next Prime Minister will be David Cameron.
In Scotland, the Tories will be lucky to get more than two or three seats. Scotland simply have not forgiven the Tories for Thatcher's shutting down so much of our industry, or for testing out the Poll Tax here, or various other things. It seems doubtful that we ever will.
The biggest consequence of this will be to draw a clear line between the socialist SNP Scottish Executive and the more right-wing Tory government in Westminster. It then seems likely to me that the SNP will leverage this, and also the "Scotland did not elect the Tories" thing, into a very strong platform for the next Scottish elections, and make big gains of their own, this time at the expense of the Labour and Liberal Democrat parties. And, having gained a mandate from the people that they currently lack, we head towards a referendum on independence, a likely victory, and a constitutional crisis...
Sadly, I don't think independence is the right move for Scotland. Firstly, I think there are a whole lot of hidden costs that haven't been considered (we would need to set up a civil service and armed forces of our own, amongst other things, and these aren't cheap). Secondly, I'm not at all convinced that Scotland's economy is really self-sustaining. Of course, the truth of this depends entirely on who you ask: the SNP claim that all that money from the North Sea oil will sustain us completely and in perpetuity; in England, meanwhile, they will tell you that they subsidise the higher quality of life in Scotland to the tune of some absurd number of billions per year. (Whether the quality of life is actually higher in Scotland seems doubtful, of course.)
But really, my biggest concern is for business. It strikes me as likely that an independent Scotland would elect a much more left-wing government than the rest of the UK would, and certainly more left-wing than we have now. It also seems likely to me that such a government would raise taxes somewhat, and in an attempt to avoid raising the base rate of income tax too much, they might well go for business taxes. Which seems fine, until you realise that the response of big business to this is to go elsewhere. While the company I work for are unlikely to make that move, I suspect many others might. And a single company, or even a fairly small number of fairly small companies do not an industry make.
The upshot of all of that is that I might have to move back to England for work. And while the notion of moving back to England isn't particularly troublesome, I would much rather choose to go than be forced to go.
Of course, any or all of this could well be wrong...
A clever Latin title was to go here
My apartment, and most especially the bathroom thereof, desperately needs cleaned. I don't want to do this, and so have spent the last twenty four hours busily finding other tasks that 'need' done right away.
After lunch, I decided that the thing to do would be to go through the pile of accumulated mail, and decide what amongst it I really needed to keep (bank statements), what I was going to keep for sentimental reasons (old love letters, real or imagined), and what I could throw out. The folly of this course of action quickly became apparent, but I stuck it out for a good couple of hours before finally abandoning it.
You would not believe the amount of junk I threw out. Or, unfortunately, you probably would, since I suspect everyone in the country, and perhaps the Western world, similarly accumulates rubbish, much of which you can't throw out immediately, for various reasons, but that you then forget to throw away once their usefulness has expired.
Personally, I am glad that so much paper is just casually wasted like that. After all, it's not like there are issues with using paper for frivolous matters, or that we're all supposed to be doing a part in helping with the environment. (Oh, right...) And it's not like they make it difficult to at least recycle this junk paper by putting personal information on it (again, oh, right...), or inserting staples that have to be removed before recycling (again...).
Perhaps the thing that most annoys me is the seeming need of every single organisation to provide an "exclusive member's magazine" to their customers. I get one from my old university, my bank, the AA, at least two pension providers, a company I happen to have shares in (and that only because I couldn't be bothered actually selling them when the share price was high, and am now holding on to until it becomes high again), Sky, and probably a few others that I have forgotten about. Each time one arrives, I feel obliged to at least scan through it for anything interesting, almost invariably draw a complete blank, and then get to throw them away.
(I would argue at this point that perhaps they should stop sending me this junk mail, and take the money saved from my costs. However, it doesn't work like that. Most of these magazines are full of targeted adverts, sold on the premise that people who drive are more likely to be interested in things to make driving more pleasant than are people who don't drive. These adverts subsidise the cost of the magazines, and may even subsidise the cost of the products in question. So, perhaps I should ask that they simply cut out the middle-man and just recycle the magazines straight away.)
Still, at least Falkirk Council genuinely do a decent job with their recycling (despite the inability to recycle appliances that I blogged about before). For most things, the only thing that needs to be done is to drop them into the Blue Bin, and are then sorted at the collections end. Frankly, this is the model that all councils need to adopt - if recycling is made hard for the end-user, people just won't bother.
For things that they don't accept in the Blue Bin, notably glass, they have made the provision of a great many recycling points throughout the council, such that a point is located within about five minutes walk. Can't really say fairer than that.
However, they still don't provide a facility for recycling carrier bags, and neither do the local supermarkets. This is something that should be looked into - too many of these bags are just being thrown away, too few are reused, and this is just too big a waste.
Anyway, the upshot of all of this is that I have stepped up my recycling efforts, and now recycle more than half of what I throw away. This I consider to be progress.
Oh, in case you're curious: the original title of this post was going to be "Sic Viresco", which was the motto of my old school. According to the former headmaster of the school, it translated as "and thus we become green". However, I figured I better check the translation before I used it, only to find that it better translates as "thus I flourish". As mottoes go, this makes much more sense than the previous translation. However, it doesn't really help in titling a blog post about recycling. Oh well.
After lunch, I decided that the thing to do would be to go through the pile of accumulated mail, and decide what amongst it I really needed to keep (bank statements), what I was going to keep for sentimental reasons (old love letters, real or imagined), and what I could throw out. The folly of this course of action quickly became apparent, but I stuck it out for a good couple of hours before finally abandoning it.
You would not believe the amount of junk I threw out. Or, unfortunately, you probably would, since I suspect everyone in the country, and perhaps the Western world, similarly accumulates rubbish, much of which you can't throw out immediately, for various reasons, but that you then forget to throw away once their usefulness has expired.
Personally, I am glad that so much paper is just casually wasted like that. After all, it's not like there are issues with using paper for frivolous matters, or that we're all supposed to be doing a part in helping with the environment. (Oh, right...) And it's not like they make it difficult to at least recycle this junk paper by putting personal information on it (again, oh, right...), or inserting staples that have to be removed before recycling (again...).
Perhaps the thing that most annoys me is the seeming need of every single organisation to provide an "exclusive member's magazine" to their customers. I get one from my old university, my bank, the AA, at least two pension providers, a company I happen to have shares in (and that only because I couldn't be bothered actually selling them when the share price was high, and am now holding on to until it becomes high again), Sky, and probably a few others that I have forgotten about. Each time one arrives, I feel obliged to at least scan through it for anything interesting, almost invariably draw a complete blank, and then get to throw them away.
(I would argue at this point that perhaps they should stop sending me this junk mail, and take the money saved from my costs. However, it doesn't work like that. Most of these magazines are full of targeted adverts, sold on the premise that people who drive are more likely to be interested in things to make driving more pleasant than are people who don't drive. These adverts subsidise the cost of the magazines, and may even subsidise the cost of the products in question. So, perhaps I should ask that they simply cut out the middle-man and just recycle the magazines straight away.)
Still, at least Falkirk Council genuinely do a decent job with their recycling (despite the inability to recycle appliances that I blogged about before). For most things, the only thing that needs to be done is to drop them into the Blue Bin, and are then sorted at the collections end. Frankly, this is the model that all councils need to adopt - if recycling is made hard for the end-user, people just won't bother.
For things that they don't accept in the Blue Bin, notably glass, they have made the provision of a great many recycling points throughout the council, such that a point is located within about five minutes walk. Can't really say fairer than that.
However, they still don't provide a facility for recycling carrier bags, and neither do the local supermarkets. This is something that should be looked into - too many of these bags are just being thrown away, too few are reused, and this is just too big a waste.
Anyway, the upshot of all of this is that I have stepped up my recycling efforts, and now recycle more than half of what I throw away. This I consider to be progress.
Oh, in case you're curious: the original title of this post was going to be "Sic Viresco", which was the motto of my old school. According to the former headmaster of the school, it translated as "and thus we become green". However, I figured I better check the translation before I used it, only to find that it better translates as "thus I flourish". As mottoes go, this makes much more sense than the previous translation. However, it doesn't really help in titling a blog post about recycling. Oh well.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Tick, tick, tick
It has been an eventful weekend.
On Saturday, Captain Ric was married to Leigh (finally!). I would normally be inclined to say more about the event, but I suspect that none of the readers of this blog actually have any interest in weddings or the associated shenanigans, so I'll spare you the details.
I will note, however, that this ticks off another of my non-Resolutions for the year. I was moderately pleased with my piping at the weekend - I have played better before, but on only one occasion. And, critically, the 'important bits' were perfect (those being the Processional, the Recessional, and the piping in at the reception).
Fortunately, the weather was nice and sunny before the wedding, so I didn't mind a jot when Leigh was somewhat delayed - it is of course the bride's prerogative to be late on her wedding day, but it is rather more pleasant for the piper when she's late on a sunny day than when she's late on a December evening when freezing cold rain is pouring down from the skies (oh yes, I know that one well). Saturday's snow waited until after the service, when the wedding party emerged from the church.
So, that's three sisters I have piped down the aisle (technically, one sister and two sisters-in-law, a distinction that's only important in that Andrew and Richard are my actual brothers), which leaves one to go.
The second thing that I was able to knock off the list was an awkward conversation. To a certain extent, this was covered two months ago, but I wasn't entirely happy with the resolution there. Well, it's now done, finished, and complete. I'm still not going to tell you any more than that.
However, I will say some more about the third item to be removed from my list on Saturday. As one of the best men, I was considered a member of the wedding party, which in turn meant that at the tail end of the first dance, when the MC called on the rest of the wedding party to join the happy couple, I had the not unpleasant duty of taking the floor with my pre-assigned bridesmaid. (Leigh had made sure to assign a specific partner for each of the bridesmaids. There was a good reason for this, which I'm not going to share with you. Although, given the nature of the people involved and the nature of the day, I suspect it was always an unnecessary precaution.)
Now, at school, I learned all the ceilidh dances, so I'm pretty confident with these. However, at school they did not teach a slow dance, on the grounds that obviously everyone knows how to do that, right? And, at a dance in late December, I found myself dancing such a dance, and deeply unhappy that it really didn't work out as intended. Hence, "There's a gap in my skill-set that needs to be closed up before it is shown up." (And, before you note that no-one would really care about anyone other than Ric & Leigh at this point, I would point out that there was 100% camera coverage of the dance-floor. So, any mistake was liable to find its way onto YouTube for my eternal mockery.)
Of course, the nice, easy way to solve this conundrum would have been to ask either of my pre-existing sisters for a quick tutorial. Amongst their many other talents, they are qualified teachers of dance. I decided on using an entirely different solution, though - I just ignored the problem and assumed it would go away.
It turns out that there isn't a damn thing wrong with my dancing. In December, my partner for the dance was an eighteen-year-old girl I really didn't know, whereas on Saturday I was dancing with Kirsty, a girl who I do know at least a little, and who is slightly older than eighteen, and therefore rather more confident in her skin than my previous victim. The upshot of all of this was that the whole thing worked rather better. However, the other key difference was that in December I was also attempting to balance a penny on my forehead, something that wasn't a necessity on Saturday. Apparently, that matters.
So, I'm removing that from my 'to-do' list. Taking a dance class might not be a terrible idea anyway, but the motivation for doing so wouldn't have anything to do with actually learning to dance. Which leaves just two items on the list: moving house and visiting a new country.
On Saturday, Captain Ric was married to Leigh (finally!). I would normally be inclined to say more about the event, but I suspect that none of the readers of this blog actually have any interest in weddings or the associated shenanigans, so I'll spare you the details.
I will note, however, that this ticks off another of my non-Resolutions for the year. I was moderately pleased with my piping at the weekend - I have played better before, but on only one occasion. And, critically, the 'important bits' were perfect (those being the Processional, the Recessional, and the piping in at the reception).
Fortunately, the weather was nice and sunny before the wedding, so I didn't mind a jot when Leigh was somewhat delayed - it is of course the bride's prerogative to be late on her wedding day, but it is rather more pleasant for the piper when she's late on a sunny day than when she's late on a December evening when freezing cold rain is pouring down from the skies (oh yes, I know that one well). Saturday's snow waited until after the service, when the wedding party emerged from the church.
So, that's three sisters I have piped down the aisle (technically, one sister and two sisters-in-law, a distinction that's only important in that Andrew and Richard are my actual brothers), which leaves one to go.
The second thing that I was able to knock off the list was an awkward conversation. To a certain extent, this was covered two months ago, but I wasn't entirely happy with the resolution there. Well, it's now done, finished, and complete. I'm still not going to tell you any more than that.
However, I will say some more about the third item to be removed from my list on Saturday. As one of the best men, I was considered a member of the wedding party, which in turn meant that at the tail end of the first dance, when the MC called on the rest of the wedding party to join the happy couple, I had the not unpleasant duty of taking the floor with my pre-assigned bridesmaid. (Leigh had made sure to assign a specific partner for each of the bridesmaids. There was a good reason for this, which I'm not going to share with you. Although, given the nature of the people involved and the nature of the day, I suspect it was always an unnecessary precaution.)
Now, at school, I learned all the ceilidh dances, so I'm pretty confident with these. However, at school they did not teach a slow dance, on the grounds that obviously everyone knows how to do that, right? And, at a dance in late December, I found myself dancing such a dance, and deeply unhappy that it really didn't work out as intended. Hence, "There's a gap in my skill-set that needs to be closed up before it is shown up." (And, before you note that no-one would really care about anyone other than Ric & Leigh at this point, I would point out that there was 100% camera coverage of the dance-floor. So, any mistake was liable to find its way onto YouTube for my eternal mockery.)
Of course, the nice, easy way to solve this conundrum would have been to ask either of my pre-existing sisters for a quick tutorial. Amongst their many other talents, they are qualified teachers of dance. I decided on using an entirely different solution, though - I just ignored the problem and assumed it would go away.
It turns out that there isn't a damn thing wrong with my dancing. In December, my partner for the dance was an eighteen-year-old girl I really didn't know, whereas on Saturday I was dancing with Kirsty, a girl who I do know at least a little, and who is slightly older than eighteen, and therefore rather more confident in her skin than my previous victim. The upshot of all of this was that the whole thing worked rather better. However, the other key difference was that in December I was also attempting to balance a penny on my forehead, something that wasn't a necessity on Saturday. Apparently, that matters.
So, I'm removing that from my 'to-do' list. Taking a dance class might not be a terrible idea anyway, but the motivation for doing so wouldn't have anything to do with actually learning to dance. Which leaves just two items on the list: moving house and visiting a new country.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
More movies - some good ones this time!
The Pursuit of Happyness: Will Smith is a down-on-his-luck father trying to become a stock-broker, while pretty much everything goes wrong. This is a very good film, but almost painful to watch at times.
The Last King of Scotland: A film mostly about Idi Amin, named for his obsession with Scotland and all things Scottish. Another very good film, and again one that isn't an easy film to watch. By far the best thing about the film is Forest Whitaker as the man himself. Scarily, he portrays him in such a manner that most of the time you can't help but like the guy, only to be really really scared and horrified by his later actions. As I said, a strong film indeed.
Gridiron Gang: Take "Coach Carter" (great film, by the way), and replace basketball with American football, and replace Samuel L. Jackson with the Rock, and this is what you get. It's an okay film, but just not as good as the other. However, like "Coach Carter", it does prompt some difficult questions about the state of certain parts of American culture, and is worth having made just for that purpose.
Notes on a Scandal: A teacher, played by Kate Blanchett, has an affair with a pupil, while another teacher, played by Judi Dench, nurtures an unhealthy obsession about the former. Judi Dench is great in her role. The rest of the film is barely passable.
Deja Vu: At first glance, this is a really clever time-travel film wherein Denzel Washington attempts to prevent a terrorist attack that has already happened and, not incidentally, save the life of the love interest after she has been killed. Unfortunately, if you scratch the surface just slightly, the whole thing falls apart. With time travel, there are two possible interpretations: either you can change the past or you can't. If you can change the past, then Marty McFly can get his father to beat up Biff Tannen, and everything works out for the best. In the latter, it turns out that the efforts of the time traveller are actually the very thing that caused the problems in the first place; he just didn't know it.
"Deja Vu" applies the first premise most of the time, except where the second is more convenient. The result is a film where the sequence of events doesn't work if the time traveller doesn't go back... but we're supposed to be watching from a universe in which he hasn't gone back. As such, it is broken. Oops.
The Fountain: This was billed as a complex tale of love and morality about two lovers whose lives are entwined over a thousand years. Well, it turns out that their lives don't quite entwine over so long, it just feels like it. Avoid.
And that's your lot for now.
The Last King of Scotland: A film mostly about Idi Amin, named for his obsession with Scotland and all things Scottish. Another very good film, and again one that isn't an easy film to watch. By far the best thing about the film is Forest Whitaker as the man himself. Scarily, he portrays him in such a manner that most of the time you can't help but like the guy, only to be really really scared and horrified by his later actions. As I said, a strong film indeed.
Gridiron Gang: Take "Coach Carter" (great film, by the way), and replace basketball with American football, and replace Samuel L. Jackson with the Rock, and this is what you get. It's an okay film, but just not as good as the other. However, like "Coach Carter", it does prompt some difficult questions about the state of certain parts of American culture, and is worth having made just for that purpose.
Notes on a Scandal: A teacher, played by Kate Blanchett, has an affair with a pupil, while another teacher, played by Judi Dench, nurtures an unhealthy obsession about the former. Judi Dench is great in her role. The rest of the film is barely passable.
Deja Vu: At first glance, this is a really clever time-travel film wherein Denzel Washington attempts to prevent a terrorist attack that has already happened and, not incidentally, save the life of the love interest after she has been killed. Unfortunately, if you scratch the surface just slightly, the whole thing falls apart. With time travel, there are two possible interpretations: either you can change the past or you can't. If you can change the past, then Marty McFly can get his father to beat up Biff Tannen, and everything works out for the best. In the latter, it turns out that the efforts of the time traveller are actually the very thing that caused the problems in the first place; he just didn't know it.
"Deja Vu" applies the first premise most of the time, except where the second is more convenient. The result is a film where the sequence of events doesn't work if the time traveller doesn't go back... but we're supposed to be watching from a universe in which he hasn't gone back. As such, it is broken. Oops.
The Fountain: This was billed as a complex tale of love and morality about two lovers whose lives are entwined over a thousand years. Well, it turns out that their lives don't quite entwine over so long, it just feels like it. Avoid.
And that's your lot for now.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Teeth update
I actually went to the dentist on Thursday, fully expecting to be given a damning report of the state of my teeth. Instead, they're absolutely fine. That was something of a surprise, but most definately a pleasant one.
Back when that show was called something else...
It's fair to say I'm not a fan of Torchwood. The first season had a couple of outstanding episodes, but mostly failed to live up to its promise. The second season has been generally better, but has lacked any particularly good episodes. The best episode was quite clearly the first one in which Martha Jones turned up, and that was because she brought some much-needed lightness to proceedings, and also reverted Jack back to the happy-Jack of Doctor Who, a character who is infinitely preferable to miserable-Jack as we see every other week. Sadly, things then proceeded to get rather morose in the following weeks.
However, one thing that was bothering me all through the second season was the feeling that I'd watched that show before. There was something about the premise that seemed familiar: a strangely-immortal character assembles a team of agents around him and helps the helpless against all manner of alien and supernatural menaces. Really, all that was missing was a similar, younger "Time Agent", preferably played by James Marsters, to appear and cause trouble, motivated by some mysterious relationship with the lead...
Yes, it is, in fact, "Angel".
In a similar vein, I have recently felt that my Sunday-night double bill has been rather lacking, what with "24" being postponed due to the writer's strike in the US. However, last week I was able to add the "Bionic Woman" remake to "Lost", and thus bring things back to a semblance of normality. Or so I thought.
It turns out that the "Bionic Woman" remake is pants.
Perhaps the most annoying thing about this show, though, is that I used to enjoy it, back when it was "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", or "Dark Angel" or "La Femme Nikita". And, really, it should work the same way. I mean, all the elements are there: the super-powered ninja-chick heroine, the standard-issue absentee father, the mysterious government agency that probably aren't benign, the "mirror-image" villainess...
Speaking of "Lost", it has now gone on to it's mid-season break, a consequence of the writer's strike. And, frankly, I don't think I'll miss it. Allegedly, we've had a whole bunch of answers over the last several weeks. However, they are yet to answer the most important question of all: when are they going to get on with it? Seriously, we're eight weeks in, and a grand total of four days have passed on the island. Yippee.
There is, however, a shining light in "Lost", one character who might actually do something (anything, really) this season. I am surprised, though: I never really expected a US TV show would make their best character a former Iraqi torturer. It's an odd choice.
Still, I can't help but feel that "Lost" would have been a much better show if it had focussed on Sayid and Hurley, rather than on dull Jack (with his Messiah-complex that is compounded by his inability to actually do anything), or useless Locke (with his unresolved daddy issues - you'd think that arranging for Saywer to kill him might help matters, but no. He's just transferred his focus to Ben), or stupid Kate (remember how, ages ago, I commented that I liked the character? Well, forget that - I can't bring myself to like someone who is that dim).
On the other hand, the new "Terminator" series is absolutely fantastic. It has much of the feel of the movies, especially the first two, but also has reached a point where the characters aren't just running and hiding - they're actually being somewhat proactive in opposing the machines. Really good show.
I've also been watching "Life on Mars", which I didn't see when it was first on. That's another good show, despite being an obvious parody of real policing in the 70's. And the American version of "The Office", "Two and a Half Men", "Scrubs" and "South Park" are all solid as always.
So, really, TV isn't in too bad a shape at the moment.
However, one thing that was bothering me all through the second season was the feeling that I'd watched that show before. There was something about the premise that seemed familiar: a strangely-immortal character assembles a team of agents around him and helps the helpless against all manner of alien and supernatural menaces. Really, all that was missing was a similar, younger "Time Agent", preferably played by James Marsters, to appear and cause trouble, motivated by some mysterious relationship with the lead...
Yes, it is, in fact, "Angel".
In a similar vein, I have recently felt that my Sunday-night double bill has been rather lacking, what with "24" being postponed due to the writer's strike in the US. However, last week I was able to add the "Bionic Woman" remake to "Lost", and thus bring things back to a semblance of normality. Or so I thought.
It turns out that the "Bionic Woman" remake is pants.
Perhaps the most annoying thing about this show, though, is that I used to enjoy it, back when it was "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", or "Dark Angel" or "La Femme Nikita". And, really, it should work the same way. I mean, all the elements are there: the super-powered ninja-chick heroine, the standard-issue absentee father, the mysterious government agency that probably aren't benign, the "mirror-image" villainess...
Speaking of "Lost", it has now gone on to it's mid-season break, a consequence of the writer's strike. And, frankly, I don't think I'll miss it. Allegedly, we've had a whole bunch of answers over the last several weeks. However, they are yet to answer the most important question of all: when are they going to get on with it? Seriously, we're eight weeks in, and a grand total of four days have passed on the island. Yippee.
There is, however, a shining light in "Lost", one character who might actually do something (anything, really) this season. I am surprised, though: I never really expected a US TV show would make their best character a former Iraqi torturer. It's an odd choice.
Still, I can't help but feel that "Lost" would have been a much better show if it had focussed on Sayid and Hurley, rather than on dull Jack (with his Messiah-complex that is compounded by his inability to actually do anything), or useless Locke (with his unresolved daddy issues - you'd think that arranging for Saywer to kill him might help matters, but no. He's just transferred his focus to Ben), or stupid Kate (remember how, ages ago, I commented that I liked the character? Well, forget that - I can't bring myself to like someone who is that dim).
On the other hand, the new "Terminator" series is absolutely fantastic. It has much of the feel of the movies, especially the first two, but also has reached a point where the characters aren't just running and hiding - they're actually being somewhat proactive in opposing the machines. Really good show.
I've also been watching "Life on Mars", which I didn't see when it was first on. That's another good show, despite being an obvious parody of real policing in the 70's. And the American version of "The Office", "Two and a Half Men", "Scrubs" and "South Park" are all solid as always.
So, really, TV isn't in too bad a shape at the moment.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
On the other other hand...
Socialism only works if everyone (or at least the overwhelming majority) play 'by the rules'. By that I mean that the very rich should pay the taxes they 'should' pay, without using the system of exemptions, loopholes, tax havens and whatnot to avoid as much tax as possible. At the other end of the scale, people should claim only those benefits to which they are entitled, and then only taking as much as they need for as little time as they need (but, it's important to note, claiming those benefits that they actually do need). This maximises the amount of money left in the pot, so to speak, and keeps the whole system ticking along.
Instead, we have a tax system so convoluted and arcane that many of the richest members of our society pay virtually no tax, through the wonders of clever accounting. At the other end of the scale, one in seven of the adult populace of Glasgow are claiming incapacity benefit. That's right - allegedly one in seven adults in Glasgow is too sick to work.
Of course, this creates a major pressure on the system, which the government can only make up through taxes. So, those of us in the middle get hit with crippling fuel bills (and despite living right next to a railway station, and working about a mile from an airport, I cannot effectively take public transport to work - I have to commute, which means I have to pay), excessive tax hikes on our little pleasures (55p a bottle on whiskey? I'm sure that will cut down on teenage binge drinking), and cannot make use of the services to which we're entitled because all the sodding dentists have gone private.
Under those circumstances, it's really hard to fault the Thatcherite thinking of "I'm all right; to hell with everyone else".
Instead, we have a tax system so convoluted and arcane that many of the richest members of our society pay virtually no tax, through the wonders of clever accounting. At the other end of the scale, one in seven of the adult populace of Glasgow are claiming incapacity benefit. That's right - allegedly one in seven adults in Glasgow is too sick to work.
Of course, this creates a major pressure on the system, which the government can only make up through taxes. So, those of us in the middle get hit with crippling fuel bills (and despite living right next to a railway station, and working about a mile from an airport, I cannot effectively take public transport to work - I have to commute, which means I have to pay), excessive tax hikes on our little pleasures (55p a bottle on whiskey? I'm sure that will cut down on teenage binge drinking), and cannot make use of the services to which we're entitled because all the sodding dentists have gone private.
Under those circumstances, it's really hard to fault the Thatcherite thinking of "I'm all right; to hell with everyone else".
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Doesn't that just kill you?
Captain Ric's comment on the dentist post requires a longer answer than I can really give in a comment.
The question is this: given that I am paying for NHS services through taxation, and am now paying again by virtue of having a private dentist (not to mention having private health insurance through work), doesn't that just kill me?
The answer, of course, is both yes and no.
On the one hand, it is extremely galling having to pay twice for the service. It is especially galling when one considers that I would be right at the bottom of the NHS priority list for allocation to a dentist, being a single man with no dependents. And this despite the fact that I pay the same taxes as everyone else (as a percentage sum), or rather more than the average (as a raw numeric figure), and am a very low user of services (being a single man with no dependents, in full-time employment and in good health). One would have thought that, on principle, in those cases where I do need access to services, they really should be available.
(When it comes to allocation for a GP, I am rather higher on the priority list, working as I do in a high-stress sedentary occupation, being somewhat overweight, and with various elements in my family history that suggest that, statistically speaking, I died three years ago. As I mentioned in a earlier post that only Chris read, it is apparently the case that being married increases a man's life expectancy by some ten years, at the expense of his wife's life expectancy. Which is rather an impressive wedding present from her to him, I must say. Unfortunately, efforts to work this into my chat-up routine have thus far failed to bear fruit; I suspect I'm not phrasing it quite right...)
Anyway, on the other hand...
The NHS does not have an infinite pool of money available to it. With a growing and aging population, the strain on the system is evident, and will only become worse as time goes on. That being the case, a strong argument could be made that those who can afford private healthcare and private dentistry really should spend the money to avail themselves of these things, and thus reduce the burden on the public system.
Which is not to say I support the Tory notion of a few years back, that those who opt for private healthcare should therefore be able to recoup some of the costs from the NHS. This strikes me as rather defeating the purpose. And I dread the day when private health insurance becomes, effectively, a necessity of life, as it is in the US system. Sadly, I think that day is approaching.
(The only other fix I can see to the resourcing problems of the NHS is draconian methods towards those who represent an unreasonable burden on the system. To a certain extent, this already happens, in the form of extreme taxation on cigarettes. However, one could roll out a system whereby everyone has a certain credit in the system, which gets expended whenever you go in for 'preventable' incidents - including anything drug, alcohol, tobacco or obesity-related. Once the individual's credit runs out, they don't get treated. Of course, the problems with such a scheme are fairly obvious with only a slight analysis, and some of the outcomes are too monstrous to contemplate. So, I think I'm going to advocate "those who can afford not to overburden the system should not do so" as my solution of choice.)
Note to self: try not to think about politics; it's too depressing.
Thoughts, anyone?
The question is this: given that I am paying for NHS services through taxation, and am now paying again by virtue of having a private dentist (not to mention having private health insurance through work), doesn't that just kill me?
The answer, of course, is both yes and no.
On the one hand, it is extremely galling having to pay twice for the service. It is especially galling when one considers that I would be right at the bottom of the NHS priority list for allocation to a dentist, being a single man with no dependents. And this despite the fact that I pay the same taxes as everyone else (as a percentage sum), or rather more than the average (as a raw numeric figure), and am a very low user of services (being a single man with no dependents, in full-time employment and in good health). One would have thought that, on principle, in those cases where I do need access to services, they really should be available.
(When it comes to allocation for a GP, I am rather higher on the priority list, working as I do in a high-stress sedentary occupation, being somewhat overweight, and with various elements in my family history that suggest that, statistically speaking, I died three years ago. As I mentioned in a earlier post that only Chris read, it is apparently the case that being married increases a man's life expectancy by some ten years, at the expense of his wife's life expectancy. Which is rather an impressive wedding present from her to him, I must say. Unfortunately, efforts to work this into my chat-up routine have thus far failed to bear fruit; I suspect I'm not phrasing it quite right...)
Anyway, on the other hand...
The NHS does not have an infinite pool of money available to it. With a growing and aging population, the strain on the system is evident, and will only become worse as time goes on. That being the case, a strong argument could be made that those who can afford private healthcare and private dentistry really should spend the money to avail themselves of these things, and thus reduce the burden on the public system.
Which is not to say I support the Tory notion of a few years back, that those who opt for private healthcare should therefore be able to recoup some of the costs from the NHS. This strikes me as rather defeating the purpose. And I dread the day when private health insurance becomes, effectively, a necessity of life, as it is in the US system. Sadly, I think that day is approaching.
(The only other fix I can see to the resourcing problems of the NHS is draconian methods towards those who represent an unreasonable burden on the system. To a certain extent, this already happens, in the form of extreme taxation on cigarettes. However, one could roll out a system whereby everyone has a certain credit in the system, which gets expended whenever you go in for 'preventable' incidents - including anything drug, alcohol, tobacco or obesity-related. Once the individual's credit runs out, they don't get treated. Of course, the problems with such a scheme are fairly obvious with only a slight analysis, and some of the outcomes are too monstrous to contemplate. So, I think I'm going to advocate "those who can afford not to overburden the system should not do so" as my solution of choice.)
Note to self: try not to think about politics; it's too depressing.
Thoughts, anyone?
Friday, March 07, 2008
What I did on my holidays
I have been on holiday from work all week. I have done basically nothing all week. It was fantastic.
Well, okay, there were one or two things done...
Monday: Waited for the Sky engineer, who re-wired the dish so I can actually watch TV again. Went to band.
Tuesday: Caught up on all the TV I'd missed. Lost was actually fantastic last week, which was a bit of a shock. Started work on the Gygax-tribute game I'm going to be running on Saturday.
Wednesday: Went round to the parents to wait for another engineer, this one intent on fixing their dishwasher. Took the opportunity to do all my washing. All very exciting.
Thursday: Went to the opticians. Went to band.
Friday: Shaved. Found a dentist. Updated my blog.
As I said, it was fantastic doing absolutely nothing all week.
Well, okay, there were one or two things done...
Monday: Waited for the Sky engineer, who re-wired the dish so I can actually watch TV again. Went to band.
Tuesday: Caught up on all the TV I'd missed. Lost was actually fantastic last week, which was a bit of a shock. Started work on the Gygax-tribute game I'm going to be running on Saturday.
Wednesday: Went round to the parents to wait for another engineer, this one intent on fixing their dishwasher. Took the opportunity to do all my washing. All very exciting.
Thursday: Went to the opticians. Went to band.
Friday: Shaved. Found a dentist. Updated my blog.
As I said, it was fantastic doing absolutely nothing all week.
Not the best of hosts
And, speaking of the Captain's big day, we had the Stag Night last weekend. Now, it's important to note that what happens on the Stag Night stays on the Stag Night. So, I won't be speaking about it, ever, and so don't ask.
That said, part of the events of the day involved a very large number of people descending on my Fortress of Solitude, which led to me playing host to a fairly large party.
I don't like crowds. Therefore, for most of this spell, I found myself banished to my own kitchen, conversing with whoever happened to be there. It's fair to say that I may not be the best host for a party in the world.
(Alternately, it might be fair to say that I am the best host for a party, on the grounds that I just let people get on with having a good time without getting in the way. I suspect this latter isn't true, though.)
That said, part of the events of the day involved a very large number of people descending on my Fortress of Solitude, which led to me playing host to a fairly large party.
I don't like crowds. Therefore, for most of this spell, I found myself banished to my own kitchen, conversing with whoever happened to be there. It's fair to say that I may not be the best host for a party in the world.
(Alternately, it might be fair to say that I am the best host for a party, on the grounds that I just let people get on with having a good time without getting in the way. I suspect this latter isn't true, though.)
Hmm, odd
As I'm sure I noted a couple of months ago, I decided not to shave my festive beard in January, in large part because my nephew seemed to prefer it. However, this turned out to be largely illusory, and the beard started to get annoying and require a disturbing amount of upkeep. Plus, I didn't really feel that I wanted to be wearing it in the wedding photos for the upcoming event, so it had to go.
The strange thing is that my chin is now cold. Plus, I'm not at all convinced that it's an improvement. Perhaps I'll regrow it after the Captain's big day.
The strange thing is that my chin is now cold. Plus, I'm not at all convinced that it's an improvement. Perhaps I'll regrow it after the Captain's big day.
Tick
Okay, I now have a dentist. In the event, I had to go private, but the prices seem not unreasonable. Of course, that's before they decide all my teeth have to come out...
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Goodbye Gary, and thank you
The co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons, E. Gary Gygax, died today. It's odd how someone you've never met can have such an effect on your life.
In honour, I shall steal some words from "Knights of the Dinner Table":
The Empty Chair
Eulogy for a Gamer
There is an empty chair,
at the table this day.
A hallowed place where,
a friend once played.
The roll of his dice,
my ears long to hear.
Or perhaps it would suffice,
if he should suddenly appear.
With character sheet in hand,
and a bag of Cheeze-doodles to share.
All his friends would stand,
as he sat in the empty chair.
I hear his voice a-callin’,
and it ties my heart in a knot.
For he cries, “Though a comrade has fallen,
You must play for those who cannot.”
We conquered worlds on the run,
he and I in the name of fun.
And as others may come and go,
I make both both friend and foe.
But what I long for most,
is our past now long a ghost.
Thanks Gary.
In honour, I shall steal some words from "Knights of the Dinner Table":
The Empty Chair
Eulogy for a Gamer
There is an empty chair,
at the table this day.
A hallowed place where,
a friend once played.
The roll of his dice,
my ears long to hear.
Or perhaps it would suffice,
if he should suddenly appear.
With character sheet in hand,
and a bag of Cheeze-doodles to share.
All his friends would stand,
as he sat in the empty chair.
I hear his voice a-callin’,
and it ties my heart in a knot.
For he cries, “Though a comrade has fallen,
You must play for those who cannot.”
We conquered worlds on the run,
he and I in the name of fun.
And as others may come and go,
I make both both friend and foe.
But what I long for most,
is our past now long a ghost.
Thanks Gary.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Aaaaaargh!
Sorry, frustrating week.
Today's fun comes in the form of problems with my Sky service. It's been a while since I've had those to deal with.
Anyway, on Sunday I noted that one of the two recordings I had set to run wasn't working. And, in fact, the only channel I could receive was the one that was recording.
Naturally, this suggested to me that I should check the two inputs from the satellite dish. After all, the box was clearly working, but one of the two clearly wasn't, causing the system to use the other exclusively. Isn't it amazing, being able to work things out?
So, I took a look, and found little pools of warm water directly below the two connections. Not a good sign, since electricity and water don't mix. So, I switched the whole thing off, disconnected the cables, and dried the whole thing off. And it seemed to work.
Yesterday, though, I found that the same problem was back, and the pools of water were also back. This time, when I took it to bits, I noted that one of the two cables had corroded through, and was no longer making a good connection. This clearly explained the problem, and just as clearly marked it as not being something I could deal with on my own.
So, today I phoned technical support, with the goal of booking an engineer visit to re-cut the damaged cable so it makes a good connection again, and to investigate just how water is getting into the system (and perhaps replacing both the cables to prevent this from happening in the future). That was clearly what was required, and so should be easy done, no?
No.
Having finally navigated the nine circles of call centre hell, I finally got to speak to an assistant, and explained the problem. Whereupon, he insisted on following his script, which called for a number of "troubleshooting steps" to try to diagnose the problem. Never mind that I had already done that - they can't send out an engineer without following the script. And, of course, being at work, I'm not in a position to follow the steps at the present time.
Fortunately, it's a 24-hour line, so I will be able to enjoy the fun of sorting all this out tonight. Yippee!
Today's fun comes in the form of problems with my Sky service. It's been a while since I've had those to deal with.
Anyway, on Sunday I noted that one of the two recordings I had set to run wasn't working. And, in fact, the only channel I could receive was the one that was recording.
Naturally, this suggested to me that I should check the two inputs from the satellite dish. After all, the box was clearly working, but one of the two clearly wasn't, causing the system to use the other exclusively. Isn't it amazing, being able to work things out?
So, I took a look, and found little pools of warm water directly below the two connections. Not a good sign, since electricity and water don't mix. So, I switched the whole thing off, disconnected the cables, and dried the whole thing off. And it seemed to work.
Yesterday, though, I found that the same problem was back, and the pools of water were also back. This time, when I took it to bits, I noted that one of the two cables had corroded through, and was no longer making a good connection. This clearly explained the problem, and just as clearly marked it as not being something I could deal with on my own.
So, today I phoned technical support, with the goal of booking an engineer visit to re-cut the damaged cable so it makes a good connection again, and to investigate just how water is getting into the system (and perhaps replacing both the cables to prevent this from happening in the future). That was clearly what was required, and so should be easy done, no?
No.
Having finally navigated the nine circles of call centre hell, I finally got to speak to an assistant, and explained the problem. Whereupon, he insisted on following his script, which called for a number of "troubleshooting steps" to try to diagnose the problem. Never mind that I had already done that - they can't send out an engineer without following the script. And, of course, being at work, I'm not in a position to follow the steps at the present time.
Fortunately, it's a 24-hour line, so I will be able to enjoy the fun of sorting all this out tonight. Yippee!
Monday, February 18, 2008
More bad movie reviews
Continuing my public service of watching bad films so you don't have to, today I bring you reviews of two of the worst films I have ever watched all the way through, and a film so scary it has persuaded me never to set foot in any building with more than one room, and never to go outdoors, either.
The Marine: Somehow, The Rock has gone from being a wrestler to being a movie star. True, he's not the greatest actor, but he's managed to be in some good roles in some good films, and actually managed to be the best thing about "Be Cool". So, it stands to reason that other wrestlers could do the same, right? And so, we get Kane appearing in "See No Evil", Stone Cold Steve Austin in "The Condemned", and me realising I know far too much about wrestling, or movies, or both.
We also get John Cena starring in The Marine, quite possibly the worst action film of all time. Robert "Terminator 2" Patrick is the villain. The plot is quite simple: the bad guys steal some diamonds and go on the run, along the way they take the hero's wife hostage, and the hero goes on a rampage getting her back. We've seen it a hundred times before, which is the major problem of the film.
The secondary problem is that the lead actor just can't, which means they've had to reduce his dialogue to about 20 lines, and replace it with big explosions. This works for Michael Bay, but no-one else has the name recognition to pull it off. It creates the problem that our hero is basically just a slab of meat, and not particularly likeable. Think Dolph Lundgren in "Masters of the Universe", but without the career-defining performance.
Then there's the villain, who is the most idiotic cliche possible. Hmm, two of my minions are bickering. One of them is loyal and reliable, the other is entirely responsible for the mess we're currently in. Which one should I kill? Hmm, we're being chased by an absurdly superhuman marine, who only wants to get his wife back. Shall we release her, and get this guy off our backs, or shall we continue to waste time and effort keeping her with us?
Oh, and a note to the film-makers: the reason the first Die Hard works is that John McClaine isn't a superhuman killing machine. He's an ordinary guy in a messed up situation. He only becomes superhuman in the sequels, where the audience is willing to accept this nonsense because the first one laid the groundwork. So, if you're not doing a Die Hard sequel, your hero is probably best served not being superhuman. Unless he's a superhero, of course.
And don't let your lead actor rap over the closing credits, unless he's Eminem or the like. That's just adding insult to injury.
Smoking Aces: When I saw the adverts for this, before it hit the cinema, I thought "that looks quite good." How wrong I was.
This film revolves around a Las Vegas entertainer nicknamed Aces, and a big bounty on his head. Consequently, we have huge numbers of hired killers running around trying to kill him. Unfortunately, the film-makers forgot to introduce most of them as characters, and managed to have the rest of them act in totally inconsistent manners by the end of the film.
The plot of the film is also packed with double- and triple-crosses, all laid out because that's what the film-makers felt they needed, rather than because they made sense. The inevitable final double-cross then neatly undoes the whole point of the rest of the film, and is founded on a twist that was obvious almost from the beginning.
Still, at least there weren't any wrestlers in this one.
Them: This film was inspired by a true story, which makes it all the more worrying. It's a French film set in Bucharest, following the experiences of one Clementine, a French teacher living in Romania. Mostly, though, it's a film about an improbably-hot woman in tight jeans being menaced by hoodies (proving that this story could never happen in the UK - the government would just give the kids ASBOs, and that would be the end of that, I'm sure). There's also a boyfriend, but he's rather irrelevant to proceedings.
What made this film so scary, though, was that the killers in question weren't superhuman. At various times, the heroine wounded or even killed them. Additionally, the film makers did an excellent job of building scenes, and the tension flowed from that. Well, that, and the fact that the killers weren't motivated by revenge, or lust, or some childhood trauma, or any of the normal Hollywood cop-outs. Oh, no. They were terrorising the teacher because they were bored, and wanted something to do of a Saturday night.
The Marine: Somehow, The Rock has gone from being a wrestler to being a movie star. True, he's not the greatest actor, but he's managed to be in some good roles in some good films, and actually managed to be the best thing about "Be Cool". So, it stands to reason that other wrestlers could do the same, right? And so, we get Kane appearing in "See No Evil", Stone Cold Steve Austin in "The Condemned", and me realising I know far too much about wrestling, or movies, or both.
We also get John Cena starring in The Marine, quite possibly the worst action film of all time. Robert "Terminator 2" Patrick is the villain. The plot is quite simple: the bad guys steal some diamonds and go on the run, along the way they take the hero's wife hostage, and the hero goes on a rampage getting her back. We've seen it a hundred times before, which is the major problem of the film.
The secondary problem is that the lead actor just can't, which means they've had to reduce his dialogue to about 20 lines, and replace it with big explosions. This works for Michael Bay, but no-one else has the name recognition to pull it off. It creates the problem that our hero is basically just a slab of meat, and not particularly likeable. Think Dolph Lundgren in "Masters of the Universe", but without the career-defining performance.
Then there's the villain, who is the most idiotic cliche possible. Hmm, two of my minions are bickering. One of them is loyal and reliable, the other is entirely responsible for the mess we're currently in. Which one should I kill? Hmm, we're being chased by an absurdly superhuman marine, who only wants to get his wife back. Shall we release her, and get this guy off our backs, or shall we continue to waste time and effort keeping her with us?
Oh, and a note to the film-makers: the reason the first Die Hard works is that John McClaine isn't a superhuman killing machine. He's an ordinary guy in a messed up situation. He only becomes superhuman in the sequels, where the audience is willing to accept this nonsense because the first one laid the groundwork. So, if you're not doing a Die Hard sequel, your hero is probably best served not being superhuman. Unless he's a superhero, of course.
And don't let your lead actor rap over the closing credits, unless he's Eminem or the like. That's just adding insult to injury.
Smoking Aces: When I saw the adverts for this, before it hit the cinema, I thought "that looks quite good." How wrong I was.
This film revolves around a Las Vegas entertainer nicknamed Aces, and a big bounty on his head. Consequently, we have huge numbers of hired killers running around trying to kill him. Unfortunately, the film-makers forgot to introduce most of them as characters, and managed to have the rest of them act in totally inconsistent manners by the end of the film.
The plot of the film is also packed with double- and triple-crosses, all laid out because that's what the film-makers felt they needed, rather than because they made sense. The inevitable final double-cross then neatly undoes the whole point of the rest of the film, and is founded on a twist that was obvious almost from the beginning.
Still, at least there weren't any wrestlers in this one.
Them: This film was inspired by a true story, which makes it all the more worrying. It's a French film set in Bucharest, following the experiences of one Clementine, a French teacher living in Romania. Mostly, though, it's a film about an improbably-hot woman in tight jeans being menaced by hoodies (proving that this story could never happen in the UK - the government would just give the kids ASBOs, and that would be the end of that, I'm sure). There's also a boyfriend, but he's rather irrelevant to proceedings.
What made this film so scary, though, was that the killers in question weren't superhuman. At various times, the heroine wounded or even killed them. Additionally, the film makers did an excellent job of building scenes, and the tension flowed from that. Well, that, and the fact that the killers weren't motivated by revenge, or lust, or some childhood trauma, or any of the normal Hollywood cop-outs. Oh, no. They were terrorising the teacher because they were bored, and wanted something to do of a Saturday night.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
All caught up. Now what?
Since Christmas, my brothers and I have been playing through Neverwinter Nights 2. This has proven to be a less-than-satisfactory experience, largely due to the really stupid controls for the camera angle that the game has implemented (in common with most recent video games - but that's another rant), partly to do with the problems caused by internet lag, and partly due to the scheduling issues of getting the four of us together.
So, a couple of weeks ago I started the game again, running in solo mode, with an entirely different character. This had the curious effect of being an entirely different experience. My solo character is a human barbarian instead of a dwarf cleric (as I'm using in the internet game), which means that instead of being slow moving, he's very fast moving, which on the whole is a much more satisfying state of affairs. Secondly, he didn't have to share all the loot, which means he's actually got some decent gear, and isn't stuck with the club that no-one else wanted (that said, I now know where a weaponsmith is to be found - dwarven waraxe, here I come!). And thirdly, he doesn't have any spells to worry about.
Last night, I caught up. I reached the point in the solo game that we have reached in the internet game. It should be noted that I have just reached 6th level, instead of the 4th I've just reached in the other game, largely due to not missing out half of the side-quests.
But the question is: do I wait here until we advance further in the internet game? Or do I press on, on the grounds that we're probably going to have to go back and fill in the gaps? It's certainly a toughie.
So, a couple of weeks ago I started the game again, running in solo mode, with an entirely different character. This had the curious effect of being an entirely different experience. My solo character is a human barbarian instead of a dwarf cleric (as I'm using in the internet game), which means that instead of being slow moving, he's very fast moving, which on the whole is a much more satisfying state of affairs. Secondly, he didn't have to share all the loot, which means he's actually got some decent gear, and isn't stuck with the club that no-one else wanted (that said, I now know where a weaponsmith is to be found - dwarven waraxe, here I come!). And thirdly, he doesn't have any spells to worry about.
Last night, I caught up. I reached the point in the solo game that we have reached in the internet game. It should be noted that I have just reached 6th level, instead of the 4th I've just reached in the other game, largely due to not missing out half of the side-quests.
But the question is: do I wait here until we advance further in the internet game? Or do I press on, on the grounds that we're probably going to have to go back and fill in the gaps? It's certainly a toughie.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Movies I have watched
One of the dubious joys of having Sky Plus is that I have recorded a whole bunch of films that aren't quite good enough to bother seeing at the cinema, or buying on DVD, but just good enough to watch when I've got nothing better to do. However, the hard disk in my Sky box is now 50% full, so I'm feeling the need to get and watch a few of these things, despite being quite busy.
Anyway, I shall now review the films I watched this weekend, so you don't need to bother seeing them.
Cloverfield: Okay, this wasn't on Sky. However, I did go to see it at the cinema at the weekend, and so shall review it anyway. It's basically "Godzilla Attacks New York", filmed entirely in the 'cam' style of "Blair Witch Project". So, not only is it a bad film, but it also set off my motion sickness something fierce. Before they even got to the birthday party scene (about 10 minutes into the film), I was already doubting my ability to make it through. However, I did find that it was much easier viewing if I closed my eyes.
Anyway, yeah, it's a bad film. Mercifully, it is only 74 minutes, from the start to the "Directed by" credit coming up. But, as with so many recent films, it runs afoul of my "abbreviated storytelling" rant: it was 22 minutes before the first evidence of the monster is heard. Apparently, it's important to have lots of character-building for random people who are never in the film again.
But where the whole experience was really taking the piss is that there were 33 minutes of adverts and trailers before the film even began. So, less than half of my cinema ticket was the fun monster-packed thrill-ride I expected.
And it gave me the boak. Avoid.
Flushed Away: It's about a pampered pet mouse who gets flushed down the toilet, and finds himself in the mousy underbelly of London. He tries to get back home. And there are French ninja frogs after him.
I liked this film a great deal.
However, I must say that it did stretch my suspension of disbelief just a tad that the crux of the film revolved around a World Cup final between England and Germany. Like that's likely. Still, they did redeem it rather with the end result, which was so utterly right as to forgive everything.
Let's Go To Prison: An ex-con plots revenge on the judge who ruined his life, only to find he died three days previously. So, he instead frames the judge's son and arranges to share a cell with him.
Does that sound funny? Well, let me just point out that it's a whole lot funnier than anything else in this supposed 'comedy'.
A Scanner Darkly: Another animation, this one aimed at adults, this is an adaptation of the Philip K. Dick story, and is about drugs, paranoia and madness. It's really quite freaky, not least because of the particular animation style, which sees Keanu Reeves' character looking recognisably like Keanu, and the same being true for the other characters and their respective voice talents.
Anyway, it was a very uncomfortable viewing experience, but a very good film for all of that.
Idiocracy: A guy who has been carefully selected as being entirely average is cryogenically frozen for 500 years, and wakes to find himself the smartest man on Earth, in this very disturbing documentary by the makers of Beavis and Butthead.
I'm just not sure quite how they managed to film things that haven't happened yet...
Seriously, though, this is a comedy about the premise given above, and makes a disturbingly plausible case that that might well be the state of affairs (except that I suspect if things were to go in that direction, we'd somehow manage to wipe ourselves out first, so that's something to look forward to). Unfortunately, while the premise was disturbing, the comedy itself ran out of steam very quickly. After the line about the movie "Ass" (which was exactly what it said on the tin) winning eight Oscars, including Best Screenplay, there really wasn't much left to laugh about.
And so... out of the five movies I watched, I can only really recommend two. "Idiocracy" is okay, if you're in the mood for some cheap laughs at stupid people, but "Let's Go To Prison" and "Cloverfield" are to be avoided. "Flushed Away" and "A Scanner Darkly" are good, though.
Anyway, I shall now review the films I watched this weekend, so you don't need to bother seeing them.
Cloverfield: Okay, this wasn't on Sky. However, I did go to see it at the cinema at the weekend, and so shall review it anyway. It's basically "Godzilla Attacks New York", filmed entirely in the 'cam' style of "Blair Witch Project". So, not only is it a bad film, but it also set off my motion sickness something fierce. Before they even got to the birthday party scene (about 10 minutes into the film), I was already doubting my ability to make it through. However, I did find that it was much easier viewing if I closed my eyes.
Anyway, yeah, it's a bad film. Mercifully, it is only 74 minutes, from the start to the "Directed by" credit coming up. But, as with so many recent films, it runs afoul of my "abbreviated storytelling" rant: it was 22 minutes before the first evidence of the monster is heard. Apparently, it's important to have lots of character-building for random people who are never in the film again.
But where the whole experience was really taking the piss is that there were 33 minutes of adverts and trailers before the film even began. So, less than half of my cinema ticket was the fun monster-packed thrill-ride I expected.
And it gave me the boak. Avoid.
Flushed Away: It's about a pampered pet mouse who gets flushed down the toilet, and finds himself in the mousy underbelly of London. He tries to get back home. And there are French ninja frogs after him.
I liked this film a great deal.
However, I must say that it did stretch my suspension of disbelief just a tad that the crux of the film revolved around a World Cup final between England and Germany. Like that's likely. Still, they did redeem it rather with the end result, which was so utterly right as to forgive everything.
Let's Go To Prison: An ex-con plots revenge on the judge who ruined his life, only to find he died three days previously. So, he instead frames the judge's son and arranges to share a cell with him.
Does that sound funny? Well, let me just point out that it's a whole lot funnier than anything else in this supposed 'comedy'.
A Scanner Darkly: Another animation, this one aimed at adults, this is an adaptation of the Philip K. Dick story, and is about drugs, paranoia and madness. It's really quite freaky, not least because of the particular animation style, which sees Keanu Reeves' character looking recognisably like Keanu, and the same being true for the other characters and their respective voice talents.
Anyway, it was a very uncomfortable viewing experience, but a very good film for all of that.
Idiocracy: A guy who has been carefully selected as being entirely average is cryogenically frozen for 500 years, and wakes to find himself the smartest man on Earth, in this very disturbing documentary by the makers of Beavis and Butthead.
I'm just not sure quite how they managed to film things that haven't happened yet...
Seriously, though, this is a comedy about the premise given above, and makes a disturbingly plausible case that that might well be the state of affairs (except that I suspect if things were to go in that direction, we'd somehow manage to wipe ourselves out first, so that's something to look forward to). Unfortunately, while the premise was disturbing, the comedy itself ran out of steam very quickly. After the line about the movie "Ass" (which was exactly what it said on the tin) winning eight Oscars, including Best Screenplay, there really wasn't much left to laugh about.
And so... out of the five movies I watched, I can only really recommend two. "Idiocracy" is okay, if you're in the mood for some cheap laughs at stupid people, but "Let's Go To Prison" and "Cloverfield" are to be avoided. "Flushed Away" and "A Scanner Darkly" are good, though.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Holey socks, Batman!
It goes without saying that when a pair of socks develops a hole, they should be thrown away. However, there remains a question that must be answered: just when should this be done?
In most cases, the hole in the socks will be noticed when putting them on in the morning. At which point, time is something of a factor. Moreover, there is the fair point that, if shoes are to be worn all day then there is no prospect of those holes being noticed.
So, the temptation is to wear them anyway, and throw them away later.
But then, there is the fact that one wouldn't want to throw away a pair of dirty and smelly socks. It just wouldn't be right. Which means, of course, that they must be washed.
But then, once you've gone to all the trouble of washing them, surely you wouldn't want to throw them away? And the cycle begins again.
Honestly, things were much easier when I was under the sway of The Sock Conspiracy.
(And another thing: why is it that my fun Simpsons and South Park socks develop holes in very short order, but my exciting Millennium socks just keep on going and going? They're like the Energiser Bunny of the sock domain.)
In most cases, the hole in the socks will be noticed when putting them on in the morning. At which point, time is something of a factor. Moreover, there is the fair point that, if shoes are to be worn all day then there is no prospect of those holes being noticed.
So, the temptation is to wear them anyway, and throw them away later.
But then, there is the fact that one wouldn't want to throw away a pair of dirty and smelly socks. It just wouldn't be right. Which means, of course, that they must be washed.
But then, once you've gone to all the trouble of washing them, surely you wouldn't want to throw them away? And the cycle begins again.
Honestly, things were much easier when I was under the sway of The Sock Conspiracy.
(And another thing: why is it that my fun Simpsons and South Park socks develop holes in very short order, but my exciting Millennium socks just keep on going and going? They're like the Energiser Bunny of the sock domain.)
A tick in the box
Well, that's one of the awkward conversations done. Actually, it turned out not to be the conversation I expected to have, but it was no less awkward for all that. Anyway, done.
I have decided that the other awkward conversation relates to a chapter of my life that is now closed, and that I'm not going to re-open it. So, unless someone else elects to raise the subject, I'm dropping it.
I consider this a triumph.
I have decided that the other awkward conversation relates to a chapter of my life that is now closed, and that I'm not going to re-open it. So, unless someone else elects to raise the subject, I'm dropping it.
I consider this a triumph.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Curious
Isn't it funny how a lack of sleep can really alter not just your mood, but also the entire structure of your day? Last night, I went to bed with all sorts of grand plans for what I would do today. So exciting was the outlook, that I utterly failed to fall asleep until half past one.
Consequently, on waking up this morning, I realised I just couldn't face actually executing any of these grand plans, and decided not to bother.
Consequently, on waking up this morning, I realised I just couldn't face actually executing any of these grand plans, and decided not to bother.
Speaking of band...
Four of our pipers quit on Thursday. Apparently, they had become bored and disillusioned with the band.
This is rather unfortunate, not least since it basically kills any interest we might have had in the upcoming competition season. Indeed, it may prevent us from completing at all, since a band must have six pipers to compete and we have eight left, two of whom are rather unreliable, and two of whom aren't really ready yet.
It also means I don't need to worry about not being committed enough to the band's future, though - for the next little while it doesn't have much of one.
This is rather unfortunate, not least since it basically kills any interest we might have had in the upcoming competition season. Indeed, it may prevent us from completing at all, since a band must have six pipers to compete and we have eight left, two of whom are rather unreliable, and two of whom aren't really ready yet.
It also means I don't need to worry about not being committed enough to the band's future, though - for the next little while it doesn't have much of one.
As seen on TV
I spent much of Saturday hoping that the Falkirk v Celtic football match yesterday would be cancelled. Frankly, this seemed quite likely, what with Falkirk currently being submerged. But, no, they decided to go ahead.
So, yesterday afternoon, blissfully unaware of the events of interest that were to occur that evening, I made my way to the stadium, where I was due to play. And, after what seemed an interminable wait (at least, until it did finally end), I marched onto the pitch, took up position just outside the centre circle, and proceeded to play.
It was all very exciting.
Anyway, after a while, they wanted to start the actual match, so my band left the pitch, and let them get on with it. At half time, we went back onto the pitch, played for a few minutes, and then departed. This inspired the team to go on and snatch defeat from the fickle jaws of stalemate.
All of this was actually in aid of fundraising for the band. I suspect we did not too badly out of the day, although not as well as might be hoped, as the flooding will have kept the attendance down, and many of those who did attend were no doubt fish. It is well known that most aquatic creatures are loathe to part with their money (except goldfish, of course, who are both generous and forgetful, and so can be relied on to give both grandly and frequently).
Also of note: during the first half, we were shown to one of the hospitality suites, where we were told we could watch the match. Except, that we were told we were strictly not to touch the blinds. When we arrived, the ground staff made sure to go round the room and close all the blinds, just to ensure that we couldn't see the pitch. However, we were able to watch it on the TVs they had scattered around the room. I thought that was wonderful.
Oh, and: our half-time show was apparently seen on Setanta Sports 1. Hence the title of this post.
So, yesterday afternoon, blissfully unaware of the events of interest that were to occur that evening, I made my way to the stadium, where I was due to play. And, after what seemed an interminable wait (at least, until it did finally end), I marched onto the pitch, took up position just outside the centre circle, and proceeded to play.
It was all very exciting.
Anyway, after a while, they wanted to start the actual match, so my band left the pitch, and let them get on with it. At half time, we went back onto the pitch, played for a few minutes, and then departed. This inspired the team to go on and snatch defeat from the fickle jaws of stalemate.
All of this was actually in aid of fundraising for the band. I suspect we did not too badly out of the day, although not as well as might be hoped, as the flooding will have kept the attendance down, and many of those who did attend were no doubt fish. It is well known that most aquatic creatures are loathe to part with their money (except goldfish, of course, who are both generous and forgetful, and so can be relied on to give both grandly and frequently).
Also of note: during the first half, we were shown to one of the hospitality suites, where we were told we could watch the match. Except, that we were told we were strictly not to touch the blinds. When we arrived, the ground staff made sure to go round the room and close all the blinds, just to ensure that we couldn't see the pitch. However, we were able to watch it on the TVs they had scattered around the room. I thought that was wonderful.
Oh, and: our half-time show was apparently seen on Setanta Sports 1. Hence the title of this post.
Tappy tappy tap tap
It was quite an eventful weekend. In particular, my experience at church last night was... interesting.
The evening began with Graeme phoning me at the last minute, asking if I would retrieve the laptop and run the projector. That was interesting, but was not the most interesting part of events.
I proceeded to make haste to the church, arriving a mere minute before the service was due to start. So, I dashed up the stairs, hooked up the laptop to the projector, and made ready. That was somewhat interesting, but was not the most interesting part of the sequence of events.
Dave then proceeded to issue me with the files for the projector - the hymn schedule and the slides for the sermon. All very exciting, especially when he noted that the last two hymns were not on the schedule. Moreover, one of them wasn't even in the laptop database; it would need to be added! That was a whole lot more interesting, but still was not the most interesting event.
More interesting still was the discovery that the hymn in question had no fewer than seven verses. Marvellous. Still, I quite like a challenge, so after the first hymn, while there was a quiet spell (technically, I think those are called prayers), I knuckled down and typed in the whole thing. Then, I checked that all the spelling was correct, that there were no typos, and even that the semi-colons were in the right place. After all, if something is worth doing, it's worth doing properly, no?
Anyway, huzzah!
Except that that still isn't the most interesting part of the story.
The most interesting part of the story was to come mere moments later, when during the middle group of hymns I decided to be clever, and add this new hymn to the schedule. A marvellous and clever idea. Imagine my horror when I discovered that the stupid machine had decided not to save those seven verses that I had just painstakingly typed in!
So, I had to re-type the whole thing. Only now, the pressure was really on.
Unfortunately, having to retype the hymn in such a small spell led to a lower standard of accuracy in the typing, and a totally unacceptable error rate. Yes, I made a mistake, missing out a space character in the third line of the hymn. Shameful, I know. (I'm also pretty sure there was a comma where there should not have been, but that one is strictly not my fault; it was in the hymnary like that.)
Anyway, I was lauded for my abilities as a "computer whiz" at this point. This leaves me curious as to what people think I actually do all day. See, although I "work with computers", my job involves relatively little actual typing. Instead, it can perhaps best be described as "professional problem solver", where I spend a great deal of time thinking about complex software systems, and the problems inherent in such systems, and then apply a fix, preferably by doing as little actual work (typing) as possible. So, while I can type fairly quickly, and with a reasonable accuracy, it is strictly an ancilliary, rather than a core skill.
Still, that was my interesting experience at church this week.
The evening began with Graeme phoning me at the last minute, asking if I would retrieve the laptop and run the projector. That was interesting, but was not the most interesting part of events.
I proceeded to make haste to the church, arriving a mere minute before the service was due to start. So, I dashed up the stairs, hooked up the laptop to the projector, and made ready. That was somewhat interesting, but was not the most interesting part of the sequence of events.
Dave then proceeded to issue me with the files for the projector - the hymn schedule and the slides for the sermon. All very exciting, especially when he noted that the last two hymns were not on the schedule. Moreover, one of them wasn't even in the laptop database; it would need to be added! That was a whole lot more interesting, but still was not the most interesting event.
More interesting still was the discovery that the hymn in question had no fewer than seven verses. Marvellous. Still, I quite like a challenge, so after the first hymn, while there was a quiet spell (technically, I think those are called prayers), I knuckled down and typed in the whole thing. Then, I checked that all the spelling was correct, that there were no typos, and even that the semi-colons were in the right place. After all, if something is worth doing, it's worth doing properly, no?
Anyway, huzzah!
Except that that still isn't the most interesting part of the story.
The most interesting part of the story was to come mere moments later, when during the middle group of hymns I decided to be clever, and add this new hymn to the schedule. A marvellous and clever idea. Imagine my horror when I discovered that the stupid machine had decided not to save those seven verses that I had just painstakingly typed in!
So, I had to re-type the whole thing. Only now, the pressure was really on.
Unfortunately, having to retype the hymn in such a small spell led to a lower standard of accuracy in the typing, and a totally unacceptable error rate. Yes, I made a mistake, missing out a space character in the third line of the hymn. Shameful, I know. (I'm also pretty sure there was a comma where there should not have been, but that one is strictly not my fault; it was in the hymnary like that.)
Anyway, I was lauded for my abilities as a "computer whiz" at this point. This leaves me curious as to what people think I actually do all day. See, although I "work with computers", my job involves relatively little actual typing. Instead, it can perhaps best be described as "professional problem solver", where I spend a great deal of time thinking about complex software systems, and the problems inherent in such systems, and then apply a fix, preferably by doing as little actual work (typing) as possible. So, while I can type fairly quickly, and with a reasonable accuracy, it is strictly an ancilliary, rather than a core skill.
Still, that was my interesting experience at church this week.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Addendum
I should note that my previous post was not intended as an attack on teachers. The education system has been mismanaged for decades, with teachers being swamped with an excess of bureaucracy, and being forced to jump to whatever trendy new educational scheme our government decide to impose.
Add to that parents who don't care, and kids who seem determined not to learn, and teachers really don't have a chance. Frankly, it's a miracle that as many kids learn as much as they do in our schools.
Add to that parents who don't care, and kids who seem determined not to learn, and teachers really don't have a chance. Frankly, it's a miracle that as many kids learn as much as they do in our schools.
Lernin'
The government want 50% of all school leavers to go on to some form of higher education. At the same time, they have set a target that all schools should aim to have 30% of pupils achieve a 'good' grade in at least 5 GCSEs, including English and Maths. A 'good' grade is defined as anything better than a C. And, according to current estimates, only 46% of all pupils are achieving this target.
Something just isn't right here.
Actually, scratch that. Everything isn't right here. Firstly, the 50% figure is just plain wrong. I believe I've blogged about this before, but it bears repeating. Sending 50% on to higher education is meaningless if most of them drop out after the first year, or less. Far better to have fewer entrants to universities, but a much higher percentage of those who enter actually graduating at the end of the day.
Of course, there are other forms of further education, which I will discuss if and when I unveil my master plan for reforming education across the country. At present, they are badly undervalued, badly under-represented, and represent an area that the government really should take action on.
Then there's the target that 30% of pupils in all schools will achieve this minimum grade. Meaning that it's acceptable if 70% of the pupils in any given school reach the age of 16 without a basic grasp of Maths and English. (And, in fact, there are worse consequences of this. If I were running a failing school under these targets, I would indentify the 40% of pupils who represent my 'top' achievers, and isolate them from the rest. The target would be to get three-quarters of those 'good' pupils to achieve the required grade at any cost. As for the rest, well, no reason to bother with teaching them anything. We'll just keep them away from the rest, so they don't cause problems.) The target has to be for 100% of pupils to leave school with a working knowledge of the fundamentals of English and Maths, whether that is defined as a PASS in some exam or other, and whether or not there are other targets in place. Anything less is a disgrace.
Then there's the definition of a C as a 'good' grade. I'm sorry, but no. A C is a pass. It's an acceptable grade. Indeed, given that we're talking about GCSE level, a C does not bode well for the student's ability to achieve a pass at Higher/A-level, and so a C should be considered a barely acceptable result.
And then there's that statistic that 46% of all pupils are reaching the target. 54% do not. In other words, our education system is utterly failing more than half of all pupils nationwide.
I blame the politicians. Of both major parties. (Oh, and don't give me any of that shit about "but look how much it has improved!" I refuse to accept that being stabbed is a good thing, just because you've made sure I won't get shot.)
Something just isn't right here.
Actually, scratch that. Everything isn't right here. Firstly, the 50% figure is just plain wrong. I believe I've blogged about this before, but it bears repeating. Sending 50% on to higher education is meaningless if most of them drop out after the first year, or less. Far better to have fewer entrants to universities, but a much higher percentage of those who enter actually graduating at the end of the day.
Of course, there are other forms of further education, which I will discuss if and when I unveil my master plan for reforming education across the country. At present, they are badly undervalued, badly under-represented, and represent an area that the government really should take action on.
Then there's the target that 30% of pupils in all schools will achieve this minimum grade. Meaning that it's acceptable if 70% of the pupils in any given school reach the age of 16 without a basic grasp of Maths and English. (And, in fact, there are worse consequences of this. If I were running a failing school under these targets, I would indentify the 40% of pupils who represent my 'top' achievers, and isolate them from the rest. The target would be to get three-quarters of those 'good' pupils to achieve the required grade at any cost. As for the rest, well, no reason to bother with teaching them anything. We'll just keep them away from the rest, so they don't cause problems.) The target has to be for 100% of pupils to leave school with a working knowledge of the fundamentals of English and Maths, whether that is defined as a PASS in some exam or other, and whether or not there are other targets in place. Anything less is a disgrace.
Then there's the definition of a C as a 'good' grade. I'm sorry, but no. A C is a pass. It's an acceptable grade. Indeed, given that we're talking about GCSE level, a C does not bode well for the student's ability to achieve a pass at Higher/A-level, and so a C should be considered a barely acceptable result.
And then there's that statistic that 46% of all pupils are reaching the target. 54% do not. In other words, our education system is utterly failing more than half of all pupils nationwide.
I blame the politicians. Of both major parties. (Oh, and don't give me any of that shit about "but look how much it has improved!" I refuse to accept that being stabbed is a good thing, just because you've made sure I won't get shot.)
Monday, January 07, 2008
Living on the Landfill
I was going to post a big rant about how the rubbish collection service isn't very good. However, I decided I should have known this. It's not like they don't provide a clue...
Friday, January 04, 2008
Abbreviated Storytelling
Once upon a time, the A-team would encounter some problem, get locked in a garage, engage in some sort of 'rebuild the van' montage, and improbably fix the problem, all in time for the end credits. In another universe, the Enterprise would be attacked by some menacing special effect, red-shirted nobodies would die, Kirk would snog some alien princess, and it would all be back to normal within 42 minutes.
Gradually, though, things have changed. Series now have ongoing plotlines, where things can and do change, and characters refer back to what has gone before. This is a good thing, since it allows longer and more complex stories to be told, and allows a larger cast of characters to be developed (Star Trek only ever had seven core characters, the A-team four. The new Battlestar Galactica has about two dozen).
However, the down side to this expansion is that it has allowed a lot of really sloppy writing to creep in. This is seen most readily in Lost, where they've thrown out a huge amount of character exposition, and dozens of exciting mysteries to tantalise the brain... but refuse to actually ever explain anything or to move the plot forward. Or then there's the new BSG (again), the most recent season of which starts really strongly, ends really strongly, but utterly sucks for the 50% of the episodes in the middle.
And the same is true in movies as well as TV. The average film now runs somewhere between two and two and a half hours. However, there is very rarely any more story packed into that time slot than was the case when the average was half an hour less. Characters are just introduced more slowly, or given more 'depth'. This would be a good thing, except that the writers only have about half a dozen character traits or plot twists that they actually know how to use, so we already know what's coming. Consider: virtually any Jennifer Aniston film is really just "The Continued Adventures of Rachael" (that being why people go to see them, and that being why they get made), so do we really need to spend half an hour introducing the new 'Rachael' to the audience? Or the token boyfriend, or his inevitable betrayal while they're 'on a break'? We get it - just get on with it!
Then there are novels. I read a lot of fantasy fiction. No, more than that, I read a LOT of fantasy fiction. Problem is, no-one writes a fantasy novel any more. They're all multi-book epics, with an undetermined number of parts, each of which is now longer than "The Lord of the Rings" on average. (Insert standard anti-"Wheel of Time" rant here, except that while Jordan was one of the worst offenders, they're now all like that.)
The original "Dragonlance Chronicles" trilogy was 1,056 pages long. Each part, therefore, was an average of 352 pages in length. The Dragonlance book I read most recently, "Dragons of the Dwarven Depths", clocks in at 608 pages, and is supposed to be comparable to one of those three parts. But much less happens in the more recent book than any of the previous ones. We don't get character development of note - what passes for characterisation is generally yet another explanation that Sturm doesn't like Raistlin because he's secretive. Well, gosh, I didn't grasp that fact when I read the first trilogy twenty years ago!
It's all very annoying. It seems that there aren't any decent editors out there these days. That, or people just like having these yarns spun out endlessly.
I should note that I'm not objecting to the length of the stories - the 'eternity version' of Hamlet runs to four hours, but is well worth the running time. The "Lord of the Rings" trilogy is about 11 and a half hours long, and if anything is over-abridged. If the story requires a certain amount of space to tell properly, then by all means take the time and tell it properly.
Just get on with it!
Gradually, though, things have changed. Series now have ongoing plotlines, where things can and do change, and characters refer back to what has gone before. This is a good thing, since it allows longer and more complex stories to be told, and allows a larger cast of characters to be developed (Star Trek only ever had seven core characters, the A-team four. The new Battlestar Galactica has about two dozen).
However, the down side to this expansion is that it has allowed a lot of really sloppy writing to creep in. This is seen most readily in Lost, where they've thrown out a huge amount of character exposition, and dozens of exciting mysteries to tantalise the brain... but refuse to actually ever explain anything or to move the plot forward. Or then there's the new BSG (again), the most recent season of which starts really strongly, ends really strongly, but utterly sucks for the 50% of the episodes in the middle.
And the same is true in movies as well as TV. The average film now runs somewhere between two and two and a half hours. However, there is very rarely any more story packed into that time slot than was the case when the average was half an hour less. Characters are just introduced more slowly, or given more 'depth'. This would be a good thing, except that the writers only have about half a dozen character traits or plot twists that they actually know how to use, so we already know what's coming. Consider: virtually any Jennifer Aniston film is really just "The Continued Adventures of Rachael" (that being why people go to see them, and that being why they get made), so do we really need to spend half an hour introducing the new 'Rachael' to the audience? Or the token boyfriend, or his inevitable betrayal while they're 'on a break'? We get it - just get on with it!
Then there are novels. I read a lot of fantasy fiction. No, more than that, I read a LOT of fantasy fiction. Problem is, no-one writes a fantasy novel any more. They're all multi-book epics, with an undetermined number of parts, each of which is now longer than "The Lord of the Rings" on average. (Insert standard anti-"Wheel of Time" rant here, except that while Jordan was one of the worst offenders, they're now all like that.)
The original "Dragonlance Chronicles" trilogy was 1,056 pages long. Each part, therefore, was an average of 352 pages in length. The Dragonlance book I read most recently, "Dragons of the Dwarven Depths", clocks in at 608 pages, and is supposed to be comparable to one of those three parts. But much less happens in the more recent book than any of the previous ones. We don't get character development of note - what passes for characterisation is generally yet another explanation that Sturm doesn't like Raistlin because he's secretive. Well, gosh, I didn't grasp that fact when I read the first trilogy twenty years ago!
It's all very annoying. It seems that there aren't any decent editors out there these days. That, or people just like having these yarns spun out endlessly.
I should note that I'm not objecting to the length of the stories - the 'eternity version' of Hamlet runs to four hours, but is well worth the running time. The "Lord of the Rings" trilogy is about 11 and a half hours long, and if anything is over-abridged. If the story requires a certain amount of space to tell properly, then by all means take the time and tell it properly.
Just get on with it!
Thursday, January 03, 2008
The resolutions I'm not making
As I mentioned exactly a year ago, I don't make resolutions for the New Year. Therefore, I am now going to take a moment to look back at the resolutions I didn't make, and assess how I did, and then not make some resolutions for this year.
So, firstly, the resolutions I didn't make last year:
1) To lose weight. As I stated at the time, I was determined to not actually do anything about this, on the grounds that it was too much effort.
Success? Sort of. I was all set to end the year at exactly the same weight as I started it, but on Saturday I was at a ceilidh, as a consequence of which I lost three pounds. This is, of course, a trivial and termporary loss, but it did mean that I ended the year lighter than I ended it. So, I'm counting that as a win.
2) To put an end to the singleton life. As I mentioned at the time, I held no hope that this would or could be achieved.
Success? No.
However... it was pointed out to me in November that I predicate my faith on the existence of an all-powerful and benign deity. Under those circumstances, giving up hope is not only logically inconsistent but actively sinful, as it implies a limit on the capabilities of that which is by definition limitless.
This was promptly followed a week later by a reminder that I'd given up hope precisely because it was just too damn painful.
Still, there have been certain developments that are at least intriguing.
3) To be better, generally. This was regarded as being too amorphous a statement to be considered a goal, as such.
Success? Yes.
Professionally, 2007 was an extremely strong year. Despite a couple of key setbacks, I have done a lot of good work in the last twelve months. I have also been travelling to and from France extensively, which has led to a massive improvement in my French. Finally, at least where work has been concerned, I have been more vocal than previously was the case, which has led to several of my suggestions being adopted as the final solution to problems.
In the band, I have done some teaching, leading to a massive improvement in at least one of the students, have been appointed to the committee, which will provide some much-needed stability in a time of turmoil, and have introduced a number of new tunes to the repertoire. All good things.
However, where gaming has been concerned, things have not been rosy. The year has principally been one of broken campaigns and total party kills. And Shadowrun sucks, big time. I either need to take some time away from gaming altogether, or I need to spend some time just playing. And Neverwinter Nights II is a poor substitute for the real thing, it must be noted.
Also, I visited a nightclub for the first time in December. (I'm not sure this fits here, really. However, I think it is worth mentioning somewhere, and I didn't talk about it at the time.) The experience was much as I expected.
4) To continue being practically perfect in every way. This was noted as being nonsensical.
Success? But of course. Enough said.
So, anyway, on to the list of resolutions I am not making for this year. Which, in fact, will take the form of my master 'to-do' list for the year. So, here they are:
And that will do me.
So, firstly, the resolutions I didn't make last year:
1) To lose weight. As I stated at the time, I was determined to not actually do anything about this, on the grounds that it was too much effort.
Success? Sort of. I was all set to end the year at exactly the same weight as I started it, but on Saturday I was at a ceilidh, as a consequence of which I lost three pounds. This is, of course, a trivial and termporary loss, but it did mean that I ended the year lighter than I ended it. So, I'm counting that as a win.
2) To put an end to the singleton life. As I mentioned at the time, I held no hope that this would or could be achieved.
Success? No.
However... it was pointed out to me in November that I predicate my faith on the existence of an all-powerful and benign deity. Under those circumstances, giving up hope is not only logically inconsistent but actively sinful, as it implies a limit on the capabilities of that which is by definition limitless.
This was promptly followed a week later by a reminder that I'd given up hope precisely because it was just too damn painful.
Still, there have been certain developments that are at least intriguing.
3) To be better, generally. This was regarded as being too amorphous a statement to be considered a goal, as such.
Success? Yes.
Professionally, 2007 was an extremely strong year. Despite a couple of key setbacks, I have done a lot of good work in the last twelve months. I have also been travelling to and from France extensively, which has led to a massive improvement in my French. Finally, at least where work has been concerned, I have been more vocal than previously was the case, which has led to several of my suggestions being adopted as the final solution to problems.
In the band, I have done some teaching, leading to a massive improvement in at least one of the students, have been appointed to the committee, which will provide some much-needed stability in a time of turmoil, and have introduced a number of new tunes to the repertoire. All good things.
However, where gaming has been concerned, things have not been rosy. The year has principally been one of broken campaigns and total party kills. And Shadowrun sucks, big time. I either need to take some time away from gaming altogether, or I need to spend some time just playing. And Neverwinter Nights II is a poor substitute for the real thing, it must be noted.
Also, I visited a nightclub for the first time in December. (I'm not sure this fits here, really. However, I think it is worth mentioning somewhere, and I didn't talk about it at the time.) The experience was much as I expected.
4) To continue being practically perfect in every way. This was noted as being nonsensical.
Success? But of course. Enough said.
So, anyway, on to the list of resolutions I am not making for this year. Which, in fact, will take the form of my master 'to-do' list for the year. So, here they are:
- Move house. Seventeen months ago I moved into my appartment, on what should have been a six-month lease. The time to move has long since passed.
- Attend Captain Ric's wedding. This takes place in a mere 93 days, and promises to be the key event of the year. I have been asked to pipe at it, and so I shall. This leads to a small concern, in that Ric himself plays the pipes very well (better than anyone else at whose wedding I have previously played), thus raising the bar on required quality.
- There are two awkward conversations I need to have, and soon. I can't say what they're about, or who they're with, so you'll have to excuse my secrecy on this matter. However, both were born out of the events of the 31st of December. And speaking of secrecy:
- There's a gap in my skill-set that needs to be closed up before it is shown up. There is actually a quick and easy way to bridge the gap, but I'm wondering if there might be a better solution than the expedient one.
- Go to the dentist. Technically, I have to find a dentist first (a nigh-impossible task in Falkirk) and then go, but it is something that needs done.
- Visit another country. This year, it's either Portugal or Belgium (or, hopefully, both), those being the last two 'easy' European countries to visit.
And that will do me.
Changes
The end of one year and the beginning of the next is always a time to mark a clean boundary and start afresh. So, for example, before the end of the year, I take down the Christmas decoration I have so artfully strewn around the appartment, and I shave off my festive beard. Except that this year I have elected to keep the festive beard, and promote it to the status of regular beard. Apparently, my nephew is scared of me without the beard, but think I exude the calm of a Jedi master while sporting it.
Or something. There were certainly lightsabres involved in the decision.
I have also made a few changes to the layout of the blog, although you might need to check carefully to see them. Note the new warning about punnery, and the more stylish black Google search bar. I have also trimmed the redundant "Edit Me" links from the sidebar, and might even consider adding some real links there at some point.
Or something. There were certainly lightsabres involved in the decision.
I have also made a few changes to the layout of the blog, although you might need to check carefully to see them. Note the new warning about punnery, and the more stylish black Google search bar. I have also trimmed the redundant "Edit Me" links from the sidebar, and might even consider adding some real links there at some point.
Work!
This morning, my alarm went off at 7:01, and I leapt from bed, full of beans and ready to start a new year of exciting work. Around the apartment I flew, like some bizarre person who likes work, got ready, and left for work. Work beckoned, and so I was going back to work.
I got to work, signed in to work, and sat down, ready to do some work. That was just after 8 o'clock.
Unfortunately, there was no work.
Just before the Christmas holiday began, I finished off the existing issues list. And, although one issue was raised over the course of the break, it was investigated and passed back to the customer for clarification. Until we get that clarification, there's nothing more to do about it. Plus, the people who might have received that more information, or who might have more issues to raise, are still on holiday.
So now I'm at work, where there is no work, waiting for there to be work, so I can do the work. It's all very exciting.
I got to work, signed in to work, and sat down, ready to do some work. That was just after 8 o'clock.
Unfortunately, there was no work.
Just before the Christmas holiday began, I finished off the existing issues list. And, although one issue was raised over the course of the break, it was investigated and passed back to the customer for clarification. Until we get that clarification, there's nothing more to do about it. Plus, the people who might have received that more information, or who might have more issues to raise, are still on holiday.
So now I'm at work, where there is no work, waiting for there to be work, so I can do the work. It's all very exciting.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Yeah, I should have seen that one coming
The ringtone on the mobile I brought home from work is "Flight of the Bumblebee".
Last night, I finally got to bed around 2, having had to wait until the virus scan on my PC finished (must remember to reschedule that). I woke up at half seven, not feeling terribly good about things. My own fault, really.
Anyway, after getting a long drink of very cold water, I went back to bed, fully intent on not getting up, ever.
At 2 minutes past 9, I made the startling discovery about the phone's ringtone. Apparently, there's been a problem.
This is, of course, absolutely typical. The one and only night of the year (or even millennium) that I have too much to drink, on a Friday just after Christmas no less, I get called early in the morning and required to think.
Last night, I finally got to bed around 2, having had to wait until the virus scan on my PC finished (must remember to reschedule that). I woke up at half seven, not feeling terribly good about things. My own fault, really.
Anyway, after getting a long drink of very cold water, I went back to bed, fully intent on not getting up, ever.
At 2 minutes past 9, I made the startling discovery about the phone's ringtone. Apparently, there's been a problem.
This is, of course, absolutely typical. The one and only night of the year (or even millennium) that I have too much to drink, on a Friday just after Christmas no less, I get called early in the morning and required to think.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
No, Mister Bond, I expect you to die!
So, I have finished work for the year. This is quite exciting, except that yesterday we had the long-expected conversation about providing support to the customer over the Christmas break. The upshot of this is that I an on-call. Which sounds horrible, but it's not so bad. Basically, I'm getting paid extra for carrying a mobile phone for the next couple of weeks, and paid more if it should actually ring.
I have, however, brought a complete set of kit home with me over the holiday, just in case. Which has led to certain upheavals...
Since I like to pretend that I work mostly on spy stuff, I have consequently had to set up an underwater lair. Of course, since the stuff I work isn't exactly Top Secret spy stuff, this has consisted of hanging a bucket of water from the ceiling.
It's all very exciting. I look forward to explaining my fiendish master plan to any super-spies who happen to drop in over the break...
I have, however, brought a complete set of kit home with me over the holiday, just in case. Which has led to certain upheavals...
Since I like to pretend that I work mostly on spy stuff, I have consequently had to set up an underwater lair. Of course, since the stuff I work isn't exactly Top Secret spy stuff, this has consisted of hanging a bucket of water from the ceiling.
It's all very exciting. I look forward to explaining my fiendish master plan to any super-spies who happen to drop in over the break...
Thursday, December 20, 2007
I thought I had to know. I was wrong.
On Sunday, I recorded "Are you smarter than a ten-year-old". I was intensely curious about whether they had managed to find really dumb people to ask the questions, whether they had found the five smartest ten-year-olds in the country, or whether they were just asking really specialised questions.
Well, it turned out it wasn't that interesting. A fairly standard quiz show, in the conversational mold of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire", with questions that were mostly pretty simple. (I must confess that the spelling question where the word was 'supersede' gave me pause, mostly out of doubt about whether the spelling is different in American English than in the Queen's English. Also, I didn't know how many of Henry VIII's wives were beheaded, so that's a fair cop.)
Of slightly more concern, though, was this question:
What is: 5 + 3 x 0 ?
For some bizarre reason, the contestant decided the answer was 15. But that's not what bothered me. What bothered me is that the answer given was 0. Apparently, the quiz-masters of the show aren't quite as smart as might be hoped.
(In case you don't see it: precedence rules state that the first thing that you do is the multiplication, so it becomes "What is 5 + 0 ?", which is 5.)
Dear me. I didn't expect the feel dumber after watching it.
Well, it turned out it wasn't that interesting. A fairly standard quiz show, in the conversational mold of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire", with questions that were mostly pretty simple. (I must confess that the spelling question where the word was 'supersede' gave me pause, mostly out of doubt about whether the spelling is different in American English than in the Queen's English. Also, I didn't know how many of Henry VIII's wives were beheaded, so that's a fair cop.)
Of slightly more concern, though, was this question:
What is: 5 + 3 x 0 ?
For some bizarre reason, the contestant decided the answer was 15. But that's not what bothered me. What bothered me is that the answer given was 0. Apparently, the quiz-masters of the show aren't quite as smart as might be hoped.
(In case you don't see it: precedence rules state that the first thing that you do is the multiplication, so it becomes "What is 5 + 0 ?", which is 5.)
Dear me. I didn't expect the feel dumber after watching it.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Oh no!
This is my 301st post on this blog. The 100th and 200th were about the antics of some celebrity or other, and my intention had been for that to become a tradition. I guess not.
As far as celebrity news is concerned, though, all such things have been rendered utterly unimportant today, with the news that Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with a rare form of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. To say this sucks would be a major understatement. I just hope he doesn't go downhill too badly or too quickly - the more 'good' years he has, the better.
As far as celebrity news is concerned, though, all such things have been rendered utterly unimportant today, with the news that Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with a rare form of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. To say this sucks would be a major understatement. I just hope he doesn't go downhill too badly or too quickly - the more 'good' years he has, the better.
Debate topic...
Is it better to set modest goals and consistently achieve them, or to reach for the stars and consistently fall just short of greatness?
Wheeeee!
You know how I just posted about internal politics, and how they made an absolute mess of the latest committee meeting?
Well, tonight at band there was a big argument. It remains to be seen how the various pieces will lie. Personally, I expect to see a number of people leaving... and the band ending up stronger for it.
We'll see.
Well, tonight at band there was a big argument. It remains to be seen how the various pieces will lie. Personally, I expect to see a number of people leaving... and the band ending up stronger for it.
We'll see.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Get all your atrocities in at the outset
At the AGM, the Chairman of the band elected to step down, feeling he was getting too old, and that he didn't want the hassle any more. He nominated his successor, and then accepted a nomination to serve as Vice-chairman. Naturally, my immediate reaction to this was, "Uh oh." It's never easy taking over when you have your predecessor looking over your shoulder.
Still, things seemed to be going okay (mostly) until the committee meeting yesterday. At which the new chairman presented us with a document entitled "Chairman's Vision", and provoked a big argument. Our Vice-chairman took this as a personal insult, suggesting that the band hadn't been doing the right things thus far and, more importantly, that the new Chairman should have waited a few meetings before issuing such a document.
I'm somewhat torn about this. On the one hand, I can't agree with our Vice-chairman. As Machiavelli rightly points out in "The Prince", when a new ruler comes to the fore, if he must make difficult changes then they should all be made as early as possible, and all together. This does what needs to be done, and allows wounds to heal once the dust settles. (The alternative is to roll out the changes over a period of time. At each step, someone is sure to be offended, and things will never settle down.) This approach was also famously adopted by Orson Welles, who would hire an actor for the specific task of being loudly fired by Welles, thus establishing his authority on the set.
On the other hand, the changes that our new Chairman is seeking to make are utterly wrong in almost every particular. This makes supporting them rather difficult, despite my support for the principle that changes should be made, and should be made now. He also put things rather tactlessly in his document, but the worst offense of all was his use of appostrophe's to denote plural's in the Chairmans Vision, and not to denote possessives. I cannot support the misuse of such things under any circumstances whatsoever, even where it would be considered amusing.
Still, never mind. Internal politics are part and parcel of being part of a pipe band, and have destroyed more bands than any other cause. The key is for those of us who are apolitical to engage in a quiet revolution and improve the band without anyone noticing. Which is basically what I've been doing.
Still, things seemed to be going okay (mostly) until the committee meeting yesterday. At which the new chairman presented us with a document entitled "Chairman's Vision", and provoked a big argument. Our Vice-chairman took this as a personal insult, suggesting that the band hadn't been doing the right things thus far and, more importantly, that the new Chairman should have waited a few meetings before issuing such a document.
I'm somewhat torn about this. On the one hand, I can't agree with our Vice-chairman. As Machiavelli rightly points out in "The Prince", when a new ruler comes to the fore, if he must make difficult changes then they should all be made as early as possible, and all together. This does what needs to be done, and allows wounds to heal once the dust settles. (The alternative is to roll out the changes over a period of time. At each step, someone is sure to be offended, and things will never settle down.) This approach was also famously adopted by Orson Welles, who would hire an actor for the specific task of being loudly fired by Welles, thus establishing his authority on the set.
On the other hand, the changes that our new Chairman is seeking to make are utterly wrong in almost every particular. This makes supporting them rather difficult, despite my support for the principle that changes should be made, and should be made now. He also put things rather tactlessly in his document, but the worst offense of all was his use of appostrophe's to denote plural's in the Chairmans Vision, and not to denote possessives. I cannot support the misuse of such things under any circumstances whatsoever, even where it would be considered amusing.
Still, never mind. Internal politics are part and parcel of being part of a pipe band, and have destroyed more bands than any other cause. The key is for those of us who are apolitical to engage in a quiet revolution and improve the band without anyone noticing. Which is basically what I've been doing.
That's not even a word!
According to this article, "w00t" has been named the word of the year. Which makes me unbelievably depressed.
However, there is some joy to be had from the article, in the form of this quote, "People look for self-evident numeral-letter substitutions: 0 for O; 3 for E; 7 for T; and 4 for A," he said. "This is simply a different and more efficient way of representing the alphabetical character."
"More efficient"? 'O' is one character. '0' is one character. So, that would be a total saving of, um, no characters. Do I suck at maths, or is the person in question a blathering idiot?
However, there is some joy to be had from the article, in the form of this quote, "People look for self-evident numeral-letter substitutions: 0 for O; 3 for E; 7 for T; and 4 for A," he said. "This is simply a different and more efficient way of representing the alphabetical character."
"More efficient"? 'O' is one character. '0' is one character. So, that would be a total saving of, um, no characters. Do I suck at maths, or is the person in question a blathering idiot?
Thursday, December 06, 2007
The Quest to Recycle the Toaster (version 2, now with 100% more dragons)
On Friday, my toaster stopped working. This was a terrible disaster, of course, not least because I was hoping to have some toast at the time. Anyway, somehow I managed to survive the weekend, long enough to purchase a new toaster, whereupon I could again have toast. Thus far, my adventure of the weekend appeared not to be one of my greatest of all times. I mean, it was thrilling in its own way, to be sure, but it wasn't quite on a par with blowing up the Death Star, or taking the tourist route to Mount Doom, or whatever it is that the cool kids do these days.
However, all was not lost, for as I was checking the user manual for my new toaster (in case there was a secret ejector seat or other Bondian gadget), I found a note to the effect that, per European Directive X, household appliances should not be thrown out to landfill, but rather should be recycled. And so began The Quest to Recycle the Toaster.
Now, you'd think it was easy. There are recycling centres all over the place, right? So, I'll just hunt them down, and Robert becomes some sort of distant relation. But no! For the recycling centres have particular things that they'll take, such as CDs and textiles... but absolutely not home appliances. So, I started looking for the solution in a slightly wider context. Presumably, if these things have to be recycled, the ability to actually do this must exist, right? After all, I can't possibly be the only person in history to have a toaster that has stopped working.
Well, it turns out that the plans to actually enable people to recycle home appliances were put in place... and then delayed, and pushed back, and delayed some more. They're in that bureaucratic hell known as "coming soon".
I can only assume from this that there are a multitude of people out there, all with dead toasters, all waiting for the councils to sort out recycling facilities so that they can dispose of their toasters. And now I am one of them. Frankly, this gives me a sense of belonging such as I have never before known. Plus, I have toast.
So, it was quite a good weekend, really. Also, there was a dragon.
However, all was not lost, for as I was checking the user manual for my new toaster (in case there was a secret ejector seat or other Bondian gadget), I found a note to the effect that, per European Directive X, household appliances should not be thrown out to landfill, but rather should be recycled. And so began The Quest to Recycle the Toaster.
Now, you'd think it was easy. There are recycling centres all over the place, right? So, I'll just hunt them down, and Robert becomes some sort of distant relation. But no! For the recycling centres have particular things that they'll take, such as CDs and textiles... but absolutely not home appliances. So, I started looking for the solution in a slightly wider context. Presumably, if these things have to be recycled, the ability to actually do this must exist, right? After all, I can't possibly be the only person in history to have a toaster that has stopped working.
Well, it turns out that the plans to actually enable people to recycle home appliances were put in place... and then delayed, and pushed back, and delayed some more. They're in that bureaucratic hell known as "coming soon".
I can only assume from this that there are a multitude of people out there, all with dead toasters, all waiting for the councils to sort out recycling facilities so that they can dispose of their toasters. And now I am one of them. Frankly, this gives me a sense of belonging such as I have never before known. Plus, I have toast.
So, it was quite a good weekend, really. Also, there was a dragon.
Monday, December 03, 2007
The Quest to Recycle the Toaster
On Friday, my toaster stopped working. This was a terrible disaster, of course, not least because I was hoping to have some toast at the time. Anyway, somehow I managed to survive the weekend, long enough to purchase a new toaster, whereupon I could again have toast. Thus far, my adventure of the weekend appeared not to be one of my greatest of all times. I mean, it was thrilling in its own way, to be sure, but it wasn't quite on a par with blowing up the Death Star, or taking the tourist route to Mount Doom, or whatever it is that the cool kids do these days.
However, all was not lost, for as I was checking the user manual for my new toaster (in case there was a secret ejector seat or other Bondian gadget), I found a note to the effect that, per European Directive X, household appliances should not be thrown out to landfill, but rather should be recycled. And so began The Quest to Recycle the Toaster.
Now, you'd think it was easy. There are recycling centres all over the place, right? So, I'll just hunt them down, and Robert becomes some sort of distant relation. But no! For the recycling centres have particular things that they'll take, such as CDs and textiles... but absolutely not home appliances. So, I started looking for the solution in a slightly wider context. Presumably, if these things have to be recycled, the ability to actually do this must exist, right? After all, I can't possibly be the only person in history to have a toaster that has stopped working.
Well, it turns out that the plans to actually enable people to recycle home appliances were put in place... and then delayed, and pushed back, and delayed some more. They're in that bureaucratic hell known as "coming soon".
I can only assume from this that there are a multitude of people out there, all with dead toasters, all waiting for the councils to sort out recycling facilities so that they can dispose of their toasters. And now I am one of them. Frankly, this gives me a sense of belonging such as I have never before known. Plus, I have toast.
So, it was quite a good weekend, really.
However, all was not lost, for as I was checking the user manual for my new toaster (in case there was a secret ejector seat or other Bondian gadget), I found a note to the effect that, per European Directive X, household appliances should not be thrown out to landfill, but rather should be recycled. And so began The Quest to Recycle the Toaster.
Now, you'd think it was easy. There are recycling centres all over the place, right? So, I'll just hunt them down, and Robert becomes some sort of distant relation. But no! For the recycling centres have particular things that they'll take, such as CDs and textiles... but absolutely not home appliances. So, I started looking for the solution in a slightly wider context. Presumably, if these things have to be recycled, the ability to actually do this must exist, right? After all, I can't possibly be the only person in history to have a toaster that has stopped working.
Well, it turns out that the plans to actually enable people to recycle home appliances were put in place... and then delayed, and pushed back, and delayed some more. They're in that bureaucratic hell known as "coming soon".
I can only assume from this that there are a multitude of people out there, all with dead toasters, all waiting for the councils to sort out recycling facilities so that they can dispose of their toasters. And now I am one of them. Frankly, this gives me a sense of belonging such as I have never before known. Plus, I have toast.
So, it was quite a good weekend, really.
Feeling Especially Festive
So, there are but three short weeks until the Christmas holidays begin.
I have decked the halls with... well, okay, I have put up my one and only decoration. It is a bit of tinsel. Green flavour. It sits on top of my TV.
I have now done all of my Christmas shopping. This truly was an epic tale of love and loss, the overcoming of great odds, and a battle to the death against forces of darkness. Alternatively, I made a list of the people I have to buy presents for, I put the identity of a present beside each, and then I ordered these presents from the Internet. All that remained was a quick trip to Toys'R'Us on Friday to select a present for my nephew (he's a boy, obviously, so it's quite easy - something bright and noisy, preferably with moving parts. Beyond that, it's just a question of scale). Done.
I have also adopted appropriately festive dress, for 'tis the season. Specifically, this means that I have donned my Christmassical Trevor t-shirt, and brought my special Christmas socks back into the rotation. Well, okay, I wear my Christmas socks all through the year - the machinations of the Sock Conspiracy largely make that an essential step for all men - but I generally feel some slight twinge of embarrasment about it. But not now, for I can wear my strangely spangly rudolph-singing musical socks with pride.
Okay, so I don't have any spangly socks, and I most certainly don't have any musical socks. But the image isn't quite as amusing if I say, "mostly black, with a tiny mince pie on one side".
And that's it. My Christmas preparations are done, and now I can sit back and watch the world grow ever more frantic as they days tick on, and the to-do list never seems to get any shorter.
Ho, ho, ho.
I have decked the halls with... well, okay, I have put up my one and only decoration. It is a bit of tinsel. Green flavour. It sits on top of my TV.
I have now done all of my Christmas shopping. This truly was an epic tale of love and loss, the overcoming of great odds, and a battle to the death against forces of darkness. Alternatively, I made a list of the people I have to buy presents for, I put the identity of a present beside each, and then I ordered these presents from the Internet. All that remained was a quick trip to Toys'R'Us on Friday to select a present for my nephew (he's a boy, obviously, so it's quite easy - something bright and noisy, preferably with moving parts. Beyond that, it's just a question of scale). Done.
I have also adopted appropriately festive dress, for 'tis the season. Specifically, this means that I have donned my Christmassical Trevor t-shirt, and brought my special Christmas socks back into the rotation. Well, okay, I wear my Christmas socks all through the year - the machinations of the Sock Conspiracy largely make that an essential step for all men - but I generally feel some slight twinge of embarrasment about it. But not now, for I can wear my strangely spangly rudolph-singing musical socks with pride.
Okay, so I don't have any spangly socks, and I most certainly don't have any musical socks. But the image isn't quite as amusing if I say, "mostly black, with a tiny mince pie on one side".
And that's it. My Christmas preparations are done, and now I can sit back and watch the world grow ever more frantic as they days tick on, and the to-do list never seems to get any shorter.
Ho, ho, ho.
The day I called in sick
Tuesday was a fairly dire day, with me finally dragging myself to the end of it, and going home. On Wednesday morning, I woke up feeling exactly as I had on Tuesday morning, which left me with the dilemma: do I call in sick or not? The problem was, I knew full well that I was capable of getting through the day, based on having done just that the day before. But, on the other hand, I really didn't want to go through that again.
So, I called in sick, and spent the day collapsed on my almost indecently comfy couch, watching things on TV. Mostly Stargate, the third season of which I have borrowed from a friend (it's okay, but not great, and really suffers from watching more than a couple of episodes at a time). Also, the most recent episode of Prison Break (also no better than okay), an early episode of Bones (again, just okay), and the film "John Tucker Must Die" (which is truly woeful from start to finish).
By the end of that marathon, I was definately ready to go back to work.
In the evening, just as I was about to watch the Celtic match, there came a knock on the door! Truly, this was an event worthy of note, for no-one ever visits, except perhaps to sell me things. So, I pulled on some clothes, and made my way to the door, only to be offered the opportunity to take part in a survey on people's TV-viewing habits. Huzzah!
Anyway, the most astonishing thing about this survey was that it ended with the exciting opportunity to have a ratings box attached to my TV, and thus to become one of those five thousand people who determine what everyone in the country watches. Oh yes, my friends, it turns out that our TV ratings aren't just made up numbers - they actually do monitor homes, and derive the numbers from that. What's more, those lucky people who are chosen get paid some nominal sum to take part.
I declined. I decided I don't want the responsibility of deciding the TV schedules for the whole nation. I mean, they might end up doing away with reality TV altogether, and then where would we be? Gosh, people might have to start watching other things, or perhaps doing other things entirely, and we can't have that, now can we?
On Thursday I was feeling much better, and went back to work. It turns out that calling in sick was the right decision for all involved - the company gets more from me at 90% for two days than at 20% for three, as would have probably been the case.
So, I called in sick, and spent the day collapsed on my almost indecently comfy couch, watching things on TV. Mostly Stargate, the third season of which I have borrowed from a friend (it's okay, but not great, and really suffers from watching more than a couple of episodes at a time). Also, the most recent episode of Prison Break (also no better than okay), an early episode of Bones (again, just okay), and the film "John Tucker Must Die" (which is truly woeful from start to finish).
By the end of that marathon, I was definately ready to go back to work.
In the evening, just as I was about to watch the Celtic match, there came a knock on the door! Truly, this was an event worthy of note, for no-one ever visits, except perhaps to sell me things. So, I pulled on some clothes, and made my way to the door, only to be offered the opportunity to take part in a survey on people's TV-viewing habits. Huzzah!
Anyway, the most astonishing thing about this survey was that it ended with the exciting opportunity to have a ratings box attached to my TV, and thus to become one of those five thousand people who determine what everyone in the country watches. Oh yes, my friends, it turns out that our TV ratings aren't just made up numbers - they actually do monitor homes, and derive the numbers from that. What's more, those lucky people who are chosen get paid some nominal sum to take part.
I declined. I decided I don't want the responsibility of deciding the TV schedules for the whole nation. I mean, they might end up doing away with reality TV altogether, and then where would we be? Gosh, people might have to start watching other things, or perhaps doing other things entirely, and we can't have that, now can we?
On Thursday I was feeling much better, and went back to work. It turns out that calling in sick was the right decision for all involved - the company gets more from me at 90% for two days than at 20% for three, as would have probably been the case.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Under the weather
Yesterday, I could feel a sore throat coming on all day, gradually getting worse and worse. I knew what was coming. Last night, I barely slept at all, then overslept until 8:20 (I didn't set my alarm clock, deliberately).
So, today I have the sore throat, headache, blocked nose, sore shoulder (not sure that that's related) and other assorted symptoms of being NOT WELL. Yet, somehow, I decided it would be a good idea to come to work. Where all the magnetic fields could have their usual exciting effect of making everything just that bit worse. Genius! (Plus, since I got to work late, I have to finish late to compensate. Yippee!)
I don't really have any point to make or anything. Just felt like having a bit of a moan.
So, today I have the sore throat, headache, blocked nose, sore shoulder (not sure that that's related) and other assorted symptoms of being NOT WELL. Yet, somehow, I decided it would be a good idea to come to work. Where all the magnetic fields could have their usual exciting effect of making everything just that bit worse. Genius! (Plus, since I got to work late, I have to finish late to compensate. Yippee!)
I don't really have any point to make or anything. Just felt like having a bit of a moan.
Corruption and Incompetence in one convenient package
I'm angry.
Last week, the government managed to lose the details of every parent in the country, by putting them in the post. So monumental was the incompetence of this, that they were forced to engineer a humiliating defeat by Croatia at Wembley to divert everyone from the fiasco.
This week, it has emerged that the Labour Party have accepted donations without going through the proper vetting procedures. In effect, they took money illegally.
I feel sorry for Gordon Brown. Most of this mess is not his doing, and he genuinely does seem to be a good statesman, and a moral man. Unfortunately, his leadership has been shown to be almost completely ineffectual, such that promises to sort out these various messes won't be greeted with any confidence. Indeed, I wouldn't be at all surprised to see him removed before the next General Election. This, of course, won't help at all. Not only is there no clear successor, but it will do nothing to combat the underlying problems.
The very worst aspect of this, though, is that while we need a change of government Right Now, there is no viable alternative out there. We can stick with the current shower, or replace them with David Cameron's Tories, which almost certainly means a rerun of the Blair years. The Liberal Democrats have gone back to being a nothing party, and there just isn't anyone else.
Independence for Scotland is looking like a really good option right about now.
Last week, the government managed to lose the details of every parent in the country, by putting them in the post. So monumental was the incompetence of this, that they were forced to engineer a humiliating defeat by Croatia at Wembley to divert everyone from the fiasco.
This week, it has emerged that the Labour Party have accepted donations without going through the proper vetting procedures. In effect, they took money illegally.
I feel sorry for Gordon Brown. Most of this mess is not his doing, and he genuinely does seem to be a good statesman, and a moral man. Unfortunately, his leadership has been shown to be almost completely ineffectual, such that promises to sort out these various messes won't be greeted with any confidence. Indeed, I wouldn't be at all surprised to see him removed before the next General Election. This, of course, won't help at all. Not only is there no clear successor, but it will do nothing to combat the underlying problems.
The very worst aspect of this, though, is that while we need a change of government Right Now, there is no viable alternative out there. We can stick with the current shower, or replace them with David Cameron's Tories, which almost certainly means a rerun of the Blair years. The Liberal Democrats have gone back to being a nothing party, and there just isn't anyone else.
Independence for Scotland is looking like a really good option right about now.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Breaking a rule
I have a rule that I don't start my Christmas shopping before the start of December. However, it should be noted that it is not the strictest rule in the universe, and I have been known to bend it on occasion. However, this year I have decided not just to bend the rule, but rather cast it to the winds.
My motivation for this is largely that work remains utterly insane, and December looks to be another tough month. In addition, the way the weekends fall cut down on 'good' shopping time considerably, as the weekend directly before Christmas it too close to Christmas to be of any real use. Further, with days 1 and 2 of the month being a weekend, a determination to not start until December begins would simply mean that that weekend would be wasted.
And so, yesterday I began the first planning in earnest, followed by the purchase of the first few presents. This places me at 45% done.
Better still, I now have the presents for perhaps the three most difficult people to shop for. The big dilemma now is: do I dare to get exactly the same present for three people with very similar tastes?
So, all in all, Christmas is going quite well. Next, on Sunday I will put up the decoration (yes, I only have one), and that will be my Christmas preparations all done. Huzzah!
My motivation for this is largely that work remains utterly insane, and December looks to be another tough month. In addition, the way the weekends fall cut down on 'good' shopping time considerably, as the weekend directly before Christmas it too close to Christmas to be of any real use. Further, with days 1 and 2 of the month being a weekend, a determination to not start until December begins would simply mean that that weekend would be wasted.
And so, yesterday I began the first planning in earnest, followed by the purchase of the first few presents. This places me at 45% done.
Better still, I now have the presents for perhaps the three most difficult people to shop for. The big dilemma now is: do I dare to get exactly the same present for three people with very similar tastes?
So, all in all, Christmas is going quite well. Next, on Sunday I will put up the decoration (yes, I only have one), and that will be my Christmas preparations all done. Huzzah!
Thursday, November 22, 2007
The Resurgence of English Football
I watched the match last night. Dear, oh dear. (Oh, in case you're worried, the title of this post is not meant sarcastically.)
One good thing that comes from the game, though, is that it gives me an excuse to share my patented "5-point Universal Disaster Recovery Plan". This is the procedure that I advocate for the recovery from any disaster, big or small. As the name may suggest, there are five steps, which must be followed in order. Any attempt to skip a step, or to switch the order is doomed to failure, and will probably only make the problems worse.
So, here it is:
And that's it - the 5-point Universal Disaster Recovery Plan. It doesn't have a clever acronym, but that's okay - 'Universal' is such a great word that you want to say it in full anyway.
Now, about England... (the next bit may well read like a bloody Scot slagging off the English. If you are feeling especially sensitive, you might want to stop reading.)
The problems with England start at the top. It was right that Sven left after the World Cup, as his team had barely stuttered through their group, and only started playing in the tournament after Rooney was sent off against Portugal. However, the appointment of Steve McClaren was a mistake. It had become apparent that he just wasn't the man to take England forward, and even had England won last night he should have been replaced. If there is one good thing to come out of last night's result, it is that England won't waste another year on a manager who just wasn't the right man for the job.
Next, we have the players. Too many of them are automatic selections, despite the fact that too many of them have failed to pull their weight. It must be a damning indictment of English football that the best play of the night last night came from a half-fit has-been and the third-choice striker. Don't get me wrong, Beckham's cross was absolutely glorious, but what the hell was wrong withthe other twelve men (starting eleven plus three subs) who played for England last night?
A special mention must be made of the goal-keeping situation. A rookie keeper was installed for the match, and made at least one basic error. However, his selection was probably not a mistake. The blunt fact is that England have not had a decent keeper since Ronaldinho's free kick destroyed Seaman.
Oh, and finally... although they have no role in events on the part, some measure of blame should be levelled at the English media. The constant hype-ing of the team whenever they go into a tournament, followed by the inevitable slating any time they dare to not win a game 5-0 with a stellar performance does absolutely nothing for the players' confidence. There will come a time when England are genuinely amongst the favourites for a major tournament (assuming they apply a proper recovery plan, rather than just assuming that all their problems are solved by sacking the manager), but that time is a long way off. The media need to recognise that, and calibrate their expectations accordingly, or England are doomed to a repeat of last night's farce.
You'll note that I haven't discussed the number of foreign players in the premiership. There is no point in discussing that as a problem, for two reasons. Firstly, European law means that there is nothing that the FA can actually do about it. Secondly, if the English players were good enough, they would be getting games with their teams. As businesses, the various teams want to win, and that means employing and playing the best players available anywhere. If those players aren't English then the answer is not to artificially remove foreign players from the domestic game... it is for the clubs to start producing better English players. (Yes, that's a very superficial treatment of this issue; this post is already too long, and I'm only halfway done, so I hope you'll forgive me.)
So, what is to be done?
Well, in short, the answer is revolution!
As I mentioned above, I felt that Steve McClaren had to be removed regardless of the result last night. He wasn't the man to take England forward. I also felt that the successor had to be English and had to represent "a safe pair of hands". Had things gone well yesterday, said person could have shepherded them through the tournament, and then built towards the World Cup. And, my initial pick would have been Terry Venables, him being the most successful England manager of recent years. Obviously, that is now no longer an option.
Looking at the various names in the frame, I see no credible English option. That being the case, and looking at the options, I'm going to recommend the man who was my preferred option to succeed Sven - Martin O'Neill. I don't think England could land either Mourinho or Scolari (and I'm not sure either is really the best choice anyway), which puts the Irishman head and shoulders above the remaining choices.
Once a new manager is in place, he absolutely must be given time to work. In fact, I'm going to argue that England should write off the World Cup of 2010, and instead build towards Euro 2012, with a view to being serious contenders to win that competition. (Qualification for the World Cup should be considered a minimal requirement, but I think that even being eliminated at the group stage could be considered acceptable. The long game is, at this stage, more likely to produce results than any short-term strategy.)
Next up, what to do with the team? Well, the first thing to do is to look to youth. Too many of the players currently in place are not pulling their weight, and a lot of that is because they are automatic picks for the side. By bringing forward credible young players, and being ruthless about dropping underperforming established names, the manager should be able to light a fire under his stars.
As for the specifics of the game... I'm not an expert. However, it was very obvious yesterday that England played best when they were in a 4-4-2 formation, so I would go with that in all but extreme cases. There is a reason it's a classic, after all.
Up front, they need a bit more strength in depth. Owen and Rooney both seem to be unfortunately injury-prone, so the team should be built under the assumption that one or both will be permanently unavailable. So, more good players are needed. (Actually, I would also be tempted to promote Crouch to first-choice striker, since he seems to have been the most effective for England for some time.)
In midfield, England have the opposite problem, which is a surfeit of decent players. The only problem here is that Lampard and Gerrard just don't seem to be able to co-exist. So, you have to drop one of them and build the team around the other. Simply saying, "as professionals they should be able to play together" doesn't help; they each obviously under-perform while the other is playing. Gerrard was the better during the World Cup, so I would give him the nod, although neither played well yesterday.
Again, in defense England need more decent players, and they have to come through youth development. None of the players who were on the pitch last night are good enough, and although England were missing several key figures, your second eleven really need to be good enough to step in as required.
Finally, England must find a decent (no, scratch that, a superb) keeper from somewhere. Until they do, they can forget about being seen as a major force. However, looking around I don't see any candidates.
One good thing that comes from the game, though, is that it gives me an excuse to share my patented "5-point Universal Disaster Recovery Plan". This is the procedure that I advocate for the recovery from any disaster, big or small. As the name may suggest, there are five steps, which must be followed in order. Any attempt to skip a step, or to switch the order is doomed to failure, and will probably only make the problems worse.
So, here it is:
- Stop assigning blame. This is mostly an instruction for those on the inside. It would be very easy for the players to blame the manager, for the manager to blame the players, for everyone to blame the keeper, or the FA, or whoever. It never helps, and just creates bad feeling, bad feeling that can utterly destroy the team. Besides, it's generally pointless; there is almost always enough blame to go around. There certainly is in this case.
- Stop making excuses. Again, it would be very easy to comment on how bad the pitch was last night, or that Rooney was well outside the box when he gave away that penalty to Russia, or note that England were suffering from a huge injury load. There is certainly some truth in some or all of these. However, once again, this does nothing to help the situation. The blunt fact is that England have failed to qualify, that they failed to win the game last night, and they did not deserve to do either of these things. It's invariably better to accept this as it is, and move forward.
- Soberly, and without blamestorming, work out what went wrong. In the case of England, I'm going to come back to this one. But for Scotland, the thing that ultimately made the difference was that our players froze in Georgia and failed to win that match. What this says is that the team have to go out and play every match as though it is vital to be at your best... precisely because it is. I'm not sure exactly why they froze up, but it's something that we need to sort out for the World Cup campaign.
- Determine what steps you are going to take to prevent the problem from occurring again. Again, from England's point of view, I will come back to this. From Scotland's, I don't think there's actually too much to do - just make sure you go into the next campaign with the same mindset as we did this one, and make sure we get the wins at Hampden and against the supposedly 'minor' teams. Oh, and don't start thinking the job is done until it is done.
- Execute the plan developed in step 4.
And that's it - the 5-point Universal Disaster Recovery Plan. It doesn't have a clever acronym, but that's okay - 'Universal' is such a great word that you want to say it in full anyway.
Now, about England... (the next bit may well read like a bloody Scot slagging off the English. If you are feeling especially sensitive, you might want to stop reading.)
The problems with England start at the top. It was right that Sven left after the World Cup, as his team had barely stuttered through their group, and only started playing in the tournament after Rooney was sent off against Portugal. However, the appointment of Steve McClaren was a mistake. It had become apparent that he just wasn't the man to take England forward, and even had England won last night he should have been replaced. If there is one good thing to come out of last night's result, it is that England won't waste another year on a manager who just wasn't the right man for the job.
Next, we have the players. Too many of them are automatic selections, despite the fact that too many of them have failed to pull their weight. It must be a damning indictment of English football that the best play of the night last night came from a half-fit has-been and the third-choice striker. Don't get me wrong, Beckham's cross was absolutely glorious, but what the hell was wrong withthe other twelve men (starting eleven plus three subs) who played for England last night?
A special mention must be made of the goal-keeping situation. A rookie keeper was installed for the match, and made at least one basic error. However, his selection was probably not a mistake. The blunt fact is that England have not had a decent keeper since Ronaldinho's free kick destroyed Seaman.
Oh, and finally... although they have no role in events on the part, some measure of blame should be levelled at the English media. The constant hype-ing of the team whenever they go into a tournament, followed by the inevitable slating any time they dare to not win a game 5-0 with a stellar performance does absolutely nothing for the players' confidence. There will come a time when England are genuinely amongst the favourites for a major tournament (assuming they apply a proper recovery plan, rather than just assuming that all their problems are solved by sacking the manager), but that time is a long way off. The media need to recognise that, and calibrate their expectations accordingly, or England are doomed to a repeat of last night's farce.
You'll note that I haven't discussed the number of foreign players in the premiership. There is no point in discussing that as a problem, for two reasons. Firstly, European law means that there is nothing that the FA can actually do about it. Secondly, if the English players were good enough, they would be getting games with their teams. As businesses, the various teams want to win, and that means employing and playing the best players available anywhere. If those players aren't English then the answer is not to artificially remove foreign players from the domestic game... it is for the clubs to start producing better English players. (Yes, that's a very superficial treatment of this issue; this post is already too long, and I'm only halfway done, so I hope you'll forgive me.)
So, what is to be done?
Well, in short, the answer is revolution!
As I mentioned above, I felt that Steve McClaren had to be removed regardless of the result last night. He wasn't the man to take England forward. I also felt that the successor had to be English and had to represent "a safe pair of hands". Had things gone well yesterday, said person could have shepherded them through the tournament, and then built towards the World Cup. And, my initial pick would have been Terry Venables, him being the most successful England manager of recent years. Obviously, that is now no longer an option.
Looking at the various names in the frame, I see no credible English option. That being the case, and looking at the options, I'm going to recommend the man who was my preferred option to succeed Sven - Martin O'Neill. I don't think England could land either Mourinho or Scolari (and I'm not sure either is really the best choice anyway), which puts the Irishman head and shoulders above the remaining choices.
Once a new manager is in place, he absolutely must be given time to work. In fact, I'm going to argue that England should write off the World Cup of 2010, and instead build towards Euro 2012, with a view to being serious contenders to win that competition. (Qualification for the World Cup should be considered a minimal requirement, but I think that even being eliminated at the group stage could be considered acceptable. The long game is, at this stage, more likely to produce results than any short-term strategy.)
Next up, what to do with the team? Well, the first thing to do is to look to youth. Too many of the players currently in place are not pulling their weight, and a lot of that is because they are automatic picks for the side. By bringing forward credible young players, and being ruthless about dropping underperforming established names, the manager should be able to light a fire under his stars.
As for the specifics of the game... I'm not an expert. However, it was very obvious yesterday that England played best when they were in a 4-4-2 formation, so I would go with that in all but extreme cases. There is a reason it's a classic, after all.
Up front, they need a bit more strength in depth. Owen and Rooney both seem to be unfortunately injury-prone, so the team should be built under the assumption that one or both will be permanently unavailable. So, more good players are needed. (Actually, I would also be tempted to promote Crouch to first-choice striker, since he seems to have been the most effective for England for some time.)
In midfield, England have the opposite problem, which is a surfeit of decent players. The only problem here is that Lampard and Gerrard just don't seem to be able to co-exist. So, you have to drop one of them and build the team around the other. Simply saying, "as professionals they should be able to play together" doesn't help; they each obviously under-perform while the other is playing. Gerrard was the better during the World Cup, so I would give him the nod, although neither played well yesterday.
Again, in defense England need more decent players, and they have to come through youth development. None of the players who were on the pitch last night are good enough, and although England were missing several key figures, your second eleven really need to be good enough to step in as required.
Finally, England must find a decent (no, scratch that, a superb) keeper from somewhere. Until they do, they can forget about being seen as a major force. However, looking around I don't see any candidates.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Absolutely Devastated
Well, the dream is over. Scotland have failed to qualify from the Group of Death, and won't be going to Euro 2008.
The thing is, though, it isn't failing to qualify that really hurts. It isn't even losing the match. But the manner of the loss...
The thing is, the group we were in contained Italy, France and Ukraine. The best two teams go through*, so it was always a long-shot. To have done as well as we have is simply remarkable, and we can be nothing but proud of all those involved.
And, if looked at objectively, we should probably have lost the match 2-0. The Italians had a goal disallowed for an offside that wasn't, while Scotland's goal was probably offside. And although we were actually the better team for much of the game, that only counts if you convert it into goals. So, we can't complain too much on that front.
But, lucky decisions or not, the score-line was sitting at 1-1 with 89 minutes on the clock. The Italians had spent the last ten minutes timewasting to run down the clock. A draw didn't really suit us, but it left us in with at least a chance on Wednesday...
and then the linesman gave what was clearly the wrong decision, the Italians got a free kick in an almost impossible position, and scored. And then the referee blew for full time early. Game over, thanks for playing.
Unbelievable.
Meanwhile, over in Isreal, England were getting the luckiest of lucky breaks. Suddenly, their destiny is back in their own hands. Now, officially, I don't care. Unofficially, it is somewhat galling to put the two side by side.
(On the other hand, it is worth noting that Euro 2008 will be considerably more interesting if England do qualify. So, perhaps I would prefer that outcome. Of course, the same is also true of Italy and France. I don't claim not to hold to double standards.)
* Another thing: Euro 2008 is hosted jointly by Austria and Switzerland, which means they both qualify automatically. If it was hosted by a single country, there would probably be a qualification spot for "the best third-placed team". Guess who that would be?
(Edit: well, possibly. I've just noticed that the champions from 2004, Greece, are having to go through qualification. It seems likely that instead of a "best third-placed team" spot, they would have given them automatic qualification.)
Oh well. Roll on the World Cup!
The thing is, though, it isn't failing to qualify that really hurts. It isn't even losing the match. But the manner of the loss...
The thing is, the group we were in contained Italy, France and Ukraine. The best two teams go through*, so it was always a long-shot. To have done as well as we have is simply remarkable, and we can be nothing but proud of all those involved.
And, if looked at objectively, we should probably have lost the match 2-0. The Italians had a goal disallowed for an offside that wasn't, while Scotland's goal was probably offside. And although we were actually the better team for much of the game, that only counts if you convert it into goals. So, we can't complain too much on that front.
But, lucky decisions or not, the score-line was sitting at 1-1 with 89 minutes on the clock. The Italians had spent the last ten minutes timewasting to run down the clock. A draw didn't really suit us, but it left us in with at least a chance on Wednesday...
and then the linesman gave what was clearly the wrong decision, the Italians got a free kick in an almost impossible position, and scored. And then the referee blew for full time early. Game over, thanks for playing.
Unbelievable.
Meanwhile, over in Isreal, England were getting the luckiest of lucky breaks. Suddenly, their destiny is back in their own hands. Now, officially, I don't care. Unofficially, it is somewhat galling to put the two side by side.
(On the other hand, it is worth noting that Euro 2008 will be considerably more interesting if England do qualify. So, perhaps I would prefer that outcome. Of course, the same is also true of Italy and France. I don't claim not to hold to double standards.)
* Another thing: Euro 2008 is hosted jointly by Austria and Switzerland, which means they both qualify automatically. If it was hosted by a single country, there would probably be a qualification spot for "the best third-placed team". Guess who that would be?
(Edit: well, possibly. I've just noticed that the champions from 2004, Greece, are having to go through qualification. It seems likely that instead of a "best third-placed team" spot, they would have given them automatic qualification.)
Oh well. Roll on the World Cup!
Friday, November 09, 2007
An Update
So, remember that adventure that I painstakingly wrote for Worldwide D&D Gameday? Well, it turns out that not a single person actually used it. Which is nice, obviously.
Meanwhile, things at the band continue to be incredibly tedious. It turns out that when the Pipe Major asked me to run the band on those occasions when he wasn't there, this was in preparation for a bout of absenteeism on his part. This is fine, except that the band aren't really learning any new tunes, aren't really preparing for anything, and are really really bored. So, we show up, we play, we go home. It's all very exciting.
However, we do have the Armistice Parade on Sunday, which is always an important event. It was a disaster last year, but it should be better this year. Or, I'll implement my 5-point Universal Disaster Recovery Plan. I have my poppy, although it's one of the completely useless plastic stemmed ones, so I'll have to look out my Emergency Poppy tonight.
And then it's onwards and upwards towards Christmas. Only six weeks more work to go. Yippee?
Meanwhile, things at the band continue to be incredibly tedious. It turns out that when the Pipe Major asked me to run the band on those occasions when he wasn't there, this was in preparation for a bout of absenteeism on his part. This is fine, except that the band aren't really learning any new tunes, aren't really preparing for anything, and are really really bored. So, we show up, we play, we go home. It's all very exciting.
However, we do have the Armistice Parade on Sunday, which is always an important event. It was a disaster last year, but it should be better this year. Or, I'll implement my 5-point Universal Disaster Recovery Plan. I have my poppy, although it's one of the completely useless plastic stemmed ones, so I'll have to look out my Emergency Poppy tonight.
And then it's onwards and upwards towards Christmas. Only six weeks more work to go. Yippee?
Itsy-bitsy Spider
Back in days of Yore, when I were but a lad (1988 to be precise), my extended family decided to have The Family Holiday, an event of such importance that it must forever be capitalised. So, that summer we all went to a camp site just outside of Morcambe, where we spent two weeks getting thoroughly soaked by the endless rain. At the end of the holiday we were all miserable, the children of my grandfather had all fallen out with one another, and we'd all had a Jolly Good Time. It would be seven years until many of us would see one another again, at the sequel.
We travelled home over the course of two days, stopping overnight in a little village called Lockerbie, that would very soon be known to everyone. The travel for the first day was largely uneventful.
However, an hour or so into the journey I started to feel a strange tickling sensation in my left foot. Of course, I paid it no mind, merely wiggling my toes to try to stop it. But stop it did not. Eventually, I had to take off said shoe, whereupon I found that the cause of the tickling was none other than a Giant Hideous Spider that had taken up residence in my shoe! Said Spider had spent the past hour sleeping, and when it awoke it had wriggled and jiggled and tickled inside my shoe.
Anyway, I looked around for a bird with which to catch the Spider, but none was to be found. (Besides, then I would have needed a cat, a dog, and so on through the sequence, until I got to a horse, and who has ever heard of horses in shoes?) So, instead I followed the alternative policy of waiting until the next stop, then banging said shoe against the ground until the Spider departed its new home, and continued on its malevolent way. In hindsight, it would have been more humane to seek a waterspout before evicting my arachnid squatter.
Unfortunately, ever since that day I find that, when wearing trainers in a car, I find that my feet spontaneously tickle. And there's always that doubt: has the Spider returned? Is it angry at being evicted, or was that event that finally caused it to shape up its life and make it make something of itself? Who can say?
A few weeks ago, there was a giant Spider in my appartment, at the top of the stairs. I, naturally, completely ignored it. I'm not actually scared of spiders, and it wasn't doing any harm, so I saw no reason not to leave it alone. Over the next couple of days, it made the adventurous trek down to the bottom of the stairs, where our hero keeps his trainers. At this point, I must confess to a little nervousness - no one likes to be ambushed by nursery rhyme characters while driving. Then, the Spider disappeared.
Now, if you've read this far, you may be expecting some sort of conclusion to the tale, or perhaps a moral, or something at least. Sorry, but life doesn't work like that. The Spider was not in my shoes, and I haven't seen it again. I think it might have died in the cold. As for morals, how about this: never blog while unutterably bored at work? (Honestly, if they ever revive He-Man, I must get the gig based on that one alone.)
We travelled home over the course of two days, stopping overnight in a little village called Lockerbie, that would very soon be known to everyone. The travel for the first day was largely uneventful.
However, an hour or so into the journey I started to feel a strange tickling sensation in my left foot. Of course, I paid it no mind, merely wiggling my toes to try to stop it. But stop it did not. Eventually, I had to take off said shoe, whereupon I found that the cause of the tickling was none other than a Giant Hideous Spider that had taken up residence in my shoe! Said Spider had spent the past hour sleeping, and when it awoke it had wriggled and jiggled and tickled inside my shoe.
Anyway, I looked around for a bird with which to catch the Spider, but none was to be found. (Besides, then I would have needed a cat, a dog, and so on through the sequence, until I got to a horse, and who has ever heard of horses in shoes?) So, instead I followed the alternative policy of waiting until the next stop, then banging said shoe against the ground until the Spider departed its new home, and continued on its malevolent way. In hindsight, it would have been more humane to seek a waterspout before evicting my arachnid squatter.
Unfortunately, ever since that day I find that, when wearing trainers in a car, I find that my feet spontaneously tickle. And there's always that doubt: has the Spider returned? Is it angry at being evicted, or was that event that finally caused it to shape up its life and make it make something of itself? Who can say?
A few weeks ago, there was a giant Spider in my appartment, at the top of the stairs. I, naturally, completely ignored it. I'm not actually scared of spiders, and it wasn't doing any harm, so I saw no reason not to leave it alone. Over the next couple of days, it made the adventurous trek down to the bottom of the stairs, where our hero keeps his trainers. At this point, I must confess to a little nervousness - no one likes to be ambushed by nursery rhyme characters while driving. Then, the Spider disappeared.
Now, if you've read this far, you may be expecting some sort of conclusion to the tale, or perhaps a moral, or something at least. Sorry, but life doesn't work like that. The Spider was not in my shoes, and I haven't seen it again. I think it might have died in the cold. As for morals, how about this: never blog while unutterably bored at work? (Honestly, if they ever revive He-Man, I must get the gig based on that one alone.)
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