The Voting Public

This is one of the fundamental problems with reality TV - it's not about talent or skills, it's about likeability - or the lack thereof. The British public feel that they can influence anything they want for the most spurious of reasons.

They vote for people because:
A) They're nice, but often not too nice.
B) They’re pretty, but not too pretty.
C) They're good at something unrelated. i.e. (I'll vote for my favourite football player even though they're plainly rubbish at ice skating in scuba gear.
D) They're not the judge’s choice and the judges were a bit rude about them.
E) They're the underdog.

Now we like the underdog, it's one of those things that exemplify the British psyche. We think that it's jolly unfair if they don't have a chance. This is a commendable feature up to a point, but coupled with our tendency to take our pleasures sadly and glory in failure, it does mean that we're destined for Jordan to be our Prime Minister. A) She’s easy – good to know if you’re an outraged fad middle aged Daily Mail reader – even you are in with a chance! B) She's considered by some to have the criteria for being pretty (that’s not the word, there needs to be one, maybe glamonster) – but a bit tacky, both physically and conceptually. C) She’s good at self publicising – not just positive publicity but any.
D) Everyone thinks she’s quite dumb so therefore deserves a chance to prove she’s not – or at least until she does something really stupid.
E) She’s low down the social scale and she’s a dog.

That coupled with the national disaster’s that’d occur if she was in charge – well glory in her failure – just what the country likes and there’s never be a time when we didn’t know what was going on! She’d be monitored 24 hours a day.

And the public absolve themselves from blame about the situation. We chose her and she messed it up. Of course she messed it up – you chose her.

Remember politics no one voted for Margaret Thatcher, John Major, Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. We voted for (or against) the parties that they represent. And people, don’t kick up a fuss because someone you don’t like is in charge of the party. You gave them the ability to be there – and it could always be worse. Jordan’ll give anything a go. Ask Gareth Gates.

Banker rhymes with...

Having seen the last blog entry of the inestimable Rob, and realising I've been a bit remiss in not updating for a while

It's terrifying to think that such a large chunk of our economy is based on moving money around and guessing how much things that don't exist will be when they do exist. Betting is a way for an individual to make money (or more often loose money) but should not be the way a civilisation creates wealth in an abstract sense.

Everything is a bet in life. Will the crops grow? Will the film
be popular? Will we run out of water? However those are productive betting processes with aspects we can control. Will the crops grow? I'll tend them more? Will the film be popular? We'll put gunfire and titties in it. Will we run out of water? We'll conserve it. However, the Stock Exchange is a weird place. The idea that you can bet on production and make money from them whether or not they do well or badly seems such a strange concept. Essentially it seems like a farmer whose crops fail and goes, thank goodness. I had bet that they would so I've made lots of money. It produces nothing and benefits, directly at least, very few. It also, and this is very weird, it appears to underpin our entire financial system.

We are beholden to a collection of people who, when calm, bet that everything will get more valuable on the whole and then, when like oil and house prices rocket beyond the reach of most people, panic that the economy is in recession. This panic is insidious. If, on the day of the panic, the water of the Stock exchange was spiked with Valium and Prozac rather than the usual Cocaine and Caffeine then the crash wouldn't happen, or at least much slower and calmer. People panic and sell, which causes stock prices to crash, causing more people to panic and sell. I think you can see the problem here. Panic and hysteria are the motivating forces and they aren't the best ones.

Ultimately the problem affects shareholders rather than the general public – apart from in sideways effects like pension funds. The companies often stay in business. People still need umbrellas and track suits and t-shirts, but the shareholders who bought shares for £10 each and have sold for £5 have lost half their money. On the other hand, if they waited 5 years they'd probably have made money, but no-one wants to wait now.

More interestingly is that at each stage of this process the brokers tend to have made money. If we have to bail out banks and bankers to ensure economic stability we should be able to make some robust changes to the structure of the system to make it more equitable, transparent and based on something real.

Maybe the hollowed out skulls of bankers who wail that they need an income in the kind of bracket that makes most peoples knuckles itch. Really, it's probably why I'm not in that kind of business. I tend not to panic so would be useless in a system like that. Apart from wandering around telling people to calm down.

Much as I do now really. On the other hand. This might be a good time to invest in Prozac shares.

Party, party, party!

Well it’s been a busy weekend. Got in contact with an old friend. Had a long overdue housewarming party and had a visit from the in-laws.

From the top – Emma, an old friend from Uni got in touch by Facebook. I like Facebook as it means you can stay in contact with people by doing – well, nothing really. And I’m very good at that. I leave it a bit and then it turns into 5 years. I think I’m living like I’m going to die at 1000 years old – my life seems to be paced that way in some ways. Anyway that was lovely.

Then we have the party. The inestimable Rob and that whippersnapper Chris had a housewarming party. I hasten to add that this is at least 3 houses down the line. They have been pressurised by friends to organise a housewarming and essentially set it up in such a way as to make it nigh on impossible for people to attend. I myself had to cancel the removal of three cysts and a teapot in order to attend.

There were nibbles and Dante’s Cove and Chris and Rob and his infernal I-Phone.

And there were the guests.

All seven of us.

Boys you missed the point. Having a party that no one can attend merely makes people want you to have one they can attend.

Particularly if people give glowing praise to the party.

So may I say now what a delight the evening was – the amount of exposed flesh was probably illegal. Particularly since some of it was by Tracy Scoggins, wearing stocking style legwarmers on her arms of all things. The food was a delightful juxtaposition of flavours and there is enough alcohol there for at least 3 more parties – or an evening in. And the hallway carpet has now been washed. There’s a tanning booth in the bathroom and an elderley relative in the cistern.

Rob’s musical selection is inventive and eclectic.

See! If that doesn’t get the buggers round I don’t know what will.

My mother in law and stepfather-in-law popped over on Sunday and we had a lovely chat and a nice meal at Sorrisso http://www.london-se1.co.uk/restaurants/info/664/sorriso. Very good food and they do a weekday lunchtime special of £599 for 2 courses and a glass of wine. Very nice.

Dramarama

I have wondered if my partner could find some soothing past-time to do. Soothing for me too that is. I’ve come to the conclusion that the answer is probably no. Which is a shame.

Here is my event path for a generic soothing activity.

Painting flowers.

If he painted flowers things would be fine for about 2 minutes – just enough time to get inconveniently far away and yet close enough to hear.

I'd get "Is this the right colour?"
“Can you find me some nicer flowers?”
“Can you hold the easel? It seems wobbly when I paint!”
"Can you get me some fresh water?"

After going to get the water and being stopped a couple of times rather than asked all things at the same time I would return to see the easel on fire, the paint was up the wall, he’d managed to swallow the only toxic flower in the bunch and he'd gouged out an eye with the paintbrush!

Not that of course I'd consider it done on purpose but it would add drama what should be a relaxing situation.

It’s bad because I’m starting to do things for him to prevent the coming disaster.

I suppose I should just let him get on with it and then act like it’s a catastrophic disaster and make him go and stay with his mother until ‘my shattered life can be rebuilt’ ,!

I mean that would meet the required level of melodrama? Eh?

Windows, windows...

I’ve lived here for eight and a half years.

Each Year we’re told that there will be a refurbishment of the block.

Each year it’s failed to happen.

Until today. Today we are getting new windows. Yaaaay!

Sadly the new kitchen was cancelled by the council.

Oh, yes and the new bathroom.

And the rewiring.

And they won’t be replacing the windowsills.

Or making good.

And they started the roof before replacing the windows.

So everything got covered in grit.

But the windows are being done.

Whoop-de-do

Shake, Rattle and Roll

The ear saga continues...

My hubby has just started taking statins as he has a natural predisposition to high cholesterol. He's also taking antibiotics for his ears together with aspirin and paracetamol for the pain.

So he's rattling.

Or at least that's the noise he's making.

I have heard about his hearing.

And how painful his ears are.

And that it's really painful.

And I am sympathetic.

But if this is going on for 2 months I'm going to go down for manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility.

Bless.

Bang Bang

He shot himself down is not the way the song lyrics go but sadly he did.

My delightful partner decided to clean his ears after a shower, but rather than just do that he put in the cotton buds, wandered around the house, flapping, and then tried to do his hair, having forgotten about his ear cleaning which resulted in him popping an eardrum. Unfortunately his Italian bent caused him to "Mamma Mia" style clasp of the face on either side causing the one he'd left in the other ear to pop that eardrum. To be fair he coped with it in a suprisingly normal manner for him. Panic.

He’s been told they’ll grow back within 2 months and to keep them dry.

I am awaiting a water tank to burst over his head.

Ups and downs.

Well it's been a bit busy over the last 11 weeks. We're due to have our windows replaced soon and all the mess that'll make, it's out birthday coming up and Doctor Who is about to wind up as a series for 2 years.

Gosh, I feel palpitations coming on!

Behind the wheel.

It is scary.

I am about to try driving for the first time ever.

And I am crapping myself. To be honest.

...and a new beginning!

Doctor Who. Glad to have it back and a good fun reintroductory romp with Donna and the Doctor. Both paralelling themselves to the point at which they meet, and rather unfortunately do so in front of the baddie. Mis Foster - well it was Miss Wormwood wasn't it. Great but I've seen it before. The Adipose are sweet and frankly I can think of some dieters who would be happy to take the pills if they'd just take the fat. The drop and subsequent splat of Miss Foster was a bit heavy handed and the cheesy flypast was, well, cheesy. Overall it was really a Sarah Jane Adventures with the Doctor.

At least until Rose.

And Rose - well we'd heard she was back but weren't expecting it this end of the season. It looked like she was waiting for Donna and looked so upset.

Maybe she knows something about Donna's future.

If she has one...

An ending...

Torchwood was a bit of a blast last night. Visually very impressive and with some peril that could've been lifted from the Jon/Tom era - exploding nuclear power station. No explanation for the strange voiced scythemen.

And then we sadly come to the downside. Gray - Cpt Jack's baby brother. Back for revenge for having his hand let go of a few years (relative time) back. Motivation, sure but surely not really a Big Bad for the series end. Did some terrible things but hey! How quickly did he get over it? And Jack buried for 2000 years. He said he had a bit of grey here and there after 100 years waiting for the Doctor yet after 2000 years in a box he seemed pretty OK. And again with the I forgive you. He's killed #~@{}_+ >@}@~}:@> of people including Torchwood members and 'I forgive you'. And how quick did he get over his brotherly anger.

The death scenes, particularly Tosh's were handled superbly but I have to say that I would prefer a stronger motivation and better characterisation of a villan character. How many people who've suffered torture go on to blow up major cities when they want to get their own back on someone. And where do you get a Weevil remote control.

Bless...poor Tosh.

La Hoya/Herradura

Well it's been a lovely time. 8 days of sunshine and 24+C, it's been glorious. On our visit this time we had.
Mother chair jiving
Karaoke in the style of Opera
Albondigas coming out of our ears.
A Gigantic puppy
Hubby on fire.
Lunch in the Chapel
Gossip of a drunken fight
Combat Bingo.
So you can see we had a bit of a full week.

Blueberry Blow up
What could happen on the way home? Really. Yes I was traveling with my partner, Diva Stropp to you. If you've read these missives you'll know that a simple journey is impossible.

Accident's this journey
Pouring a blueberry smoothie over his entire seating area, leg and socks.

My life is a tragicomedy!

Flying free.

Well here we are on the flight toAlmeria again - this time after my mothers birthday as well as, coincidentaly, Mothers Day. So far it's been variable. Hubby has a cold a bad back a blocked head and, probably more importantly, a tendency to martyrdom. At the moment he has a problem with being crushed between two huge sets of shoulders. Honestly he would really rather get every flight with a special seat for him at the front for access purpose and no-one sitting next to him. I would be seated a couple of places back so I could get what he desires!

Sometimes Love is not enough.

It's very frustrating when you have to deal with someone who insists the longest way is best. Not for any scenic value but instead because the journey is made more tortuous and difficult giving scope for extra drama and annoyance. For some people (God alone knows why) this is an attractive prospect as it gives options to rhetorically go why oh why oh why is everything so difficult. They also tend not to enjoy a reminder that "but you wanted to do it this way" which springs to the lips. Instead you get blamed for pointing out a simpler solution as you watch your life slip away. So I have decided to, instead, try to do something else. It's fun actually as you feel the annoyance that you're not waiting around looking bored and you're not giving any scope for complaint. I am waiting for a "help me" at this moment. Or maybe a "pay attention, couldn't you be doing something." I've just had a distracting conversation about nothing thrown at me. I smile and agree and go back to the writing undeterred. It's like I'm free and am not being dragged into the veltshmelt of conversation.

I win?

Save the Whale (like)

Torchwood again seems to have provided something more interesting than usual with the drama being less about the title subject (Meat) and the unethical harvesting of alien meat from an ever growing apparently sentient alien and more about Gwen's fiancé finding out about Torchwood. And a bout bloody time! Frankly it's been in the offing since the beginning and I'm glad it's out and honestly it makes it a lot more interesting all round.

The whale well. What can I say it's big; it's got huge eyes and died at the end.

Round and round like a skanky in a cage.

Well last nights offering was a character set piece. I got the impression it was supposed to be about Toshiko but instead it seemed to be about a young man called Tom from 1918 who rather sadly had to travel back in time to close a shifting temporal fault line. Perhaps most sadly was the fact that Torchwood did not try and arrange for him to be saved from the firing squad as he had just saved the planet. Because of the extended dramatic imperative no one really had their 'moment'. Still I'm darned impressed.

Skank skank skank skank...
Primeval continues to show itself well, at least for ITV. It's got all the ingredients there. Sadly few are fresh and it's been reheated in a microwave. They're crowbaring in dramatic tension where they can but there doesn't seem to be much logic to it so far. We have double agents, divided loyalties and still we have the pop up skanky ho who appears to be sleeping her way into control of the planet.

I’ve heard worse philosophies but I think some clearer motives should be in the offing.

Ahhhh! Fluffy!

Well Primeval is back with a tale of a park keeper in a theme park who found a little kitten that turned into a Sabretooth. She got mauled together with a couple of blokes.

Sadly that was it. No real engaging with the characters. Not much plot advancement.

The only interest to the story was the fact that the Ministry have hooked up one of the characters with a spy - of sorts.

And the fact that it appears that they've kept the Sabretooth for themselves.

And it was so fluffy. Bless CGI - it's very difficult to to proper fur. It looked like it had just had a bath and a blow dry.

Skanky Ho's and Prime Evil - Now Sponsored by Haven Family Holidays for Parents and Monsters!

An elite group investigate strange beings coming through time rifts – above the law, well beyond or at least brighter than the Government these people fight, not very well, to keep our way of life boring and dependable. Together they fight a skanky time travelling tart who’s put it about with two of the group of four and found the best way to maintain her skanky appearance is by using a set of shears to cut her hair. She also avoids having a bra over her leathery skin in favour of letting them swing free. Like gibbons.

Yes Primeval is back. A number of friends quite like it and I have to say I watch it to support any sense of production values from ITV who’s current out put feels like the noise a heart monitor makes just before they unplug the body. I hope that Primeval is the sound of an unexpected pulse rather than being wild fibrillation while others cry ‘Clear’ ZZzzzzzt!

I don’t care what anyone says, it’s pretty naff stuff. The Characters are overbearing, self-absorbed and spend a lot of time, when being chased by nasties, hanging around chatting about their Feeeeeeeelings.

This time there is a twist in that time has altered from the previous season and the lead chap is in a parallel world where his love interest is a completely different person. His wife – skanky tart has returned and is keen on stirring the old pot and giant worms from the Pre-Cambrian have turned up to eat us.

Hmmm. Well I’ll keep watching – if only to see whether ITV’s drama output becomes a thing of the past.

Lookey Likey!

We traveled to the other half's family today. Things were going quite well. His grandfather was positively chirpy which was great to see. His mother and brother were in fine form and his step-father had all his teeth out. Frankly this was probably a good thing as they'd been causing a problem for a while but given his face has gone the same shape as Cher's I now wonder if her work had meant removing all her gnashers. Assuming she had any by that stage!

I wouldn't be too surprised. I also accidentally caught the Graham Norton Containing Travesty of the Season that appears to have involved trawling a Norfolk Shopping Centre and putting the people obtained in bad wigs and making them perform, and I use the word loosely, songs of the people that they lookey likey. This was a surprise as the one resembling the lovechild of David Guest and Jeremy Beadle - and that would have been a congress to turn everyone celibate, blind, deaf and mute - sang Tom Jones songs. The one that looked like a bottle opener sang Diana Ross. There was even a lucky gonk - though he sang Rod Stewart. It's a scary show, particularly since their appearance and performance seemed to have no bearing and their assessed 'talent'. The winner gets to go to America and is presumably executed gangland style by the person that they were supposed to resemble.

Do you know, there are probably people who would do that just to get that close to a Celebrity.

I'd like to suggest an Idea for ITV1. It's called Talent Travesty Takeout. Members of the public who are completely obsessed by a Celebrity are permitted to stalk them for a day before having their brains blown out on live television.

And I claim my £1000000. Thank you!

I feel like Bonnie Tyler (cough)

It's been an interesting week since I've been back in the UK. I have had a variety of congestive complaints and now feel like an elderly lady with nothing to talk about but her health. Yes I had that. Oh yes and terrible corns... It's not much fun. So here I am awaiting my next course of antibiotics in the Lloyds pharmacy with David Essex playing.

My life could get worse – much worse but right now I’d just appreciate the variety.

Back with Amoxicillin

Amoxicillin - yes, it's very beneficial but frankly I'm sick of taking the bloody stuff. We came back from Spain on New Years Eve and I'd already been suffering from this blasted infection for 5 days! The Doctor peers in my ear and down my throat and tells me exactly what I already knew. Yes, you have an 'infection'.

And I hate antibiotics.

Anyway, the Spain trip went well. My stepfather is doing much better having had his spleen out. They've given him 2 short courses of Chemo which has left him like he's had the flu but he seems to be doing fine.

We're all so happy!