A few days spent in Iberia - hence the paucity of posts - reminded me firmly of life before the health and safety nasties began to ruin everything.

The morning of my flight I was entertained by the latest numpty exposing the danger of doormats as trip hazards.  Well, we have antique rugs over our carpet in our Madrid office and very attractive they are too.   To date we haven't lost a single client to this mortal danger and staff, who run the gauntlet across the reception several times a day, seem to have managed to deal with it's ever present threat without incident.

This is perhaps why the contractor applying solvent based adhesive prior to putting up the wall covering was happy to smoke as he pasted.

The bars and cafe's too were interesting.   Few non smoking areas in any but the biggest and the surprise of the week was seeing people in airports wandering about puffing away happily, rather than clustered in some smoke filled goldfish bowl, or shivering outside in the rain.

And the reason these issues aren't a problem is simply because they've a degree of common sense and a 'get on with your own life attitude', rather than a non-job civil service bureaucrat muppet waste of space nanny state interfering busy body pain in the neck (are you with me..?) trying to tell you how to run your life.

There.  I feel better already.

And the paella yesteday was absolutely superb.

Many thanks to old pal CB for stumping up for dinner last eve at our favourite Italian eatery in Clerkenwell. 

Visiting from Hong Kong, he's looking to set a record for the amount of IKEA flat pack furniture you can get into a modern flat in Kensington - and doing well by the sound of it - as he settles his youngest into art college.

As Big Mike said, 'It wasn't like this, when I was a student'.

I was in good company, with both of them being past Chairman of the MG Car Club of Hong Kong, needless to say the conversation was pretty much autocentric.

Which is a good thing after 8 hours of 2007 budget planning.

 

Mark Whittaker of Gloucestershire is currently at large after going on the run in June, charged with breaking the terms of his 2003 Asbo, the first banning a man from drinking. The 47-year-old is alleged to have threatened a petrol pump assistant who refused to turn on the machine - ...   more »

Singapore Tim sent this one over.. which I like.. and as I'm too damn busy to sit and write a sensible post, here goes:

A true story, blah, blah, blah.... (yeah, right)

A teacher was reading the story of the Three Little Pigs to her class.

She came to the part of the story where first pig was trying to gather the building materials for his home. She read ...

"and so the pig went up to the man with the wheelbarrow full of straw and said: 'Pardon me sir, but may I have some of that straw to build my house?"

The teacher paused then asked the class: "And what do you think the man said?"

One little boy raised his hand and said very matter of factly..."I think the man would have said -"Well, **** me!! A talking pig!"

The teacher was unable to teach for the next 10 minutes.

A 15-year-old who in August was collared for being drunk in breach of his Asbo escaped when the court heard how a misprint had stated that he must not be seen in public without alcohol. He was also bound by the order to act in a manner likely to cause ...   more »

Somewhat shocked and rather saddened at the death, in what seems to have been a very rare accident (especially given what he did for a living... ) of Steve Irwin,  The Crocodile Hunter.

We used to watch his shows regularly on Cable TV in Hong Kong and his infectious enthusiasm appealed greatly to the kids.

A statement on the Austrlia Zoo website says simply:

At 11am today, the 4th September 2006, Steve Irwin was fatally wounded by a stingray barb to his heart whilst filming a sequence on Batt Reef off Port Douglas for his daughter’s new TV series.
Emergency services were called from Cairns Rescue Base and met Croc One, Steve’s rescue vessel at Low Isle on the Great Barrier Reef.
The Croc One crew performed constant CPR during the thirty minute dash to Low Isle, but the medical staff pronounced Steve dead at approx. 12 noon.

His producer and closest friend, John Stainton said on Croc One today,
“The world has lost a great wildlife icon, a passionate conservationist and one of the proudest Dads on the planet. He died doing what he loves best and left this world in a happy and peaceful state of mind. Crocs Rule!”

A wonderful story in the papers today about Britain's oldest worker, Buster Martin, who is 100 today.  He is being given the day off and taken to the Chelsea ground to be presented a team shirt with 'Buster 100' on the back.

Mr Martin has some wonderfull views on life:

On not working:   "I'd become the most miserable sod you have come across" .

On 'retiring' at 97:   "I didn't enjoy it, too much time on my hands"   ''Boredom is a big killer of men"

On telephones:   "I have never in my life owned a phone – they are a bloody nuisance, you can be sitting peacefully indoors and they start ringing. I hate them."

On Foreign Holidays:   "You are only going to spend a lot of money to go over and do the same things you would do here"

Wonderful.   Happy 100th Buster.

It is a shame that you believe everything you read in the press, I am suprised that an educated individual such as yourself who has reached such lofty hights is so gullible. Do you really believe that bins can be bugged?. I can only assume that the trip to New York has left you with Jet Lag.   Anonymous

I was going to reply, but thought I post it instead:

Oooh harsh words!   The reference to Bin Bugs is merely the name they have popularly acquired.   Do I believe the more imaginitive tabloids assertions that they can determine the contents of your wheelie bin?   Of course not; they are simply electronic id tags - or bar codes as Electric Pete described them - to enable bin recognition.    My complaint overall was the way they were introduced and that, despite the very detailed booklet that accompanied them, no mention was made.   Given that the Council are now anxious to tell us how beneficial they are, it makes me wonder why we weren't sold the idea up front - unless of course they do have other plans.   Time will tell.  I remain a tad cynical.

Barbara kindly sent me this from Hong Kong.   I've seen it before.. but it's always pertinent:

Obituary

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense,who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children,are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but verbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year- old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the ob they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Panadol, sun lotion or a Band Aid to a student - but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live after a woman failed to ealize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little inher lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason.

He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm A Victim.

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. f you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.

Imagine my surprise, reading the newspaper this weekend, to find we are one of the 500,000 homes whose wheelie bins have been 'bugged'.

Well not any longer.   I prised the thing out with a screwdriver and have sent it back to the council.

This does raise an interesting question:   Why have the council decided to bug all our bins?   Is it in order to start to charge us by weight?   Or to check what we throw away?   And will they stop at looking at our rubbish for recyclabes, or will they be reviewing things more 'forensically'?

They say it is partly to be able to identify to whom a bin belongs (funny, but in the old days a label or roughly painted on house number seemed to work...) and also to ensure they have collected from each house (in the event a householder complains of non collection they would be able to check.

In fact they have made quite a reasonable job of explaining their actions.   But I don't believe a word of it and the reason I don't believe it is quite simple....

When the new wheelie bin was delivered a couple of months ago, it came with a detailed explanation if the councils' new policy on recycling and how we could do our best to support it - for all the right reasons.

Full information was provided on what was acceptable, what was not and, how to dispose of other items - at designated recycling centres in Wiltshire.  Clear guidelines on frequency of collection, recycling bins (free) and tips on rinsing out all bottles prior to disposal (what water shortage?) were uncluded.   In all an eight page full colour booklet ansered all our questions, introduced us to the new rules and sought to steer us in the right direction, openly and honestly.

Except they weren't honest.   The booklet would have been an ideal and appropriate medium in which to inform us about the bin bugs.   I read it from cover to cover last night and there is no mention of it anywhere.

Shame on you Kennet District council.  Your explanations will amount to nought as your complete lack of credibility and honesty are demonstrated so clearly by your actions.

Which is a real pity, because this ill publicised and ill considered secretive action will serve only to put back much needed recycling efforts, rather than advance them.

From Tim in Singapore.. an oldie, but a goodie...

An elderly couple had dinner at another couple's house, and after eating, the wives left the table and went into the kitchen. The two gentlemen were talking, and one said, "Last night we went out to a new restaurant and it was really great. I would recommend it very highly.

The other man said, "What is the name of the restaurant?"

The first man thought and thought and finally said, "What is the name of that flower you give to someone you love? You know ... the one that's red and has thorns."

"Do you mean a rose?"

"Yes, that's the one," replied the man. He then turned towards the kitchen and yelled, "Rose, what's the name of that restaurant we went to last night?

Browsing through the New York Times yesterday I came across a feature on a website called Lifes Little Annoyances.   This is a neat idea... based on the principle of not getting mad but getting even.

I thought about it as I walked down the fire escape at 04.24 this morning onto Park Avenue, where I enjoyed a few minutes of fun chatting to the other 350 guests who had been woken up by a false fire alarm, which was nice.   Thought about it again as I walked down the stairs at 06.55 because the lifts were out.

I think I need to research this website and see if there are any suitable 'remedies'.....

In the meantime, here is a fun way to deal with telemarketers:

When one calls, what ever they are selling, act sincerely interested ("Wow! is it ever nice you called, my wife and I were just talking about having our furnace ducts cleaned!...: etc)

Just then, interupt the caller and say, "Just a second, I have a pot boiling over..." (or some other "urgent" excuse) and leave the phone for 5 minutes or so..

Come back on line and appologise profusely (sincerely) for making them wait, ask a few questions to reinforce the idea that you are interested. and then have another urgent excuse to leave the phone...

"Whups! my three yr old is playing at the top of the stairs!!" or some such, again leave the phone for 3-5 minutes...

Keep doing this... it wastes the telemarketer's time, and costs them sales and call speed (both of which are tracked by their bosses).

I managed to waste one carpet cleaner telemarketer's time for more than 1 1/2 hours. This is a personal record, and I challenge you to beat it.

On a side note, one person at work, who used to be a telemarketer told me that they "rate' their phone numbers ranging from "Sucker, will buy anything", to "Troublesome Time wasters", and doing this to one of them would get your number and info placed on the latter, tout de suite. The various telemarketing companies trade(sell) this information to each other, and so "playing the waiting game" will help to get you placed on THEIR "do not call" list

Enjoy.   And wish me better luck tonight.

I'm in NY for a week's business, so posts will likely be less frequent and heavily feature restaurant reviews as we will be 'entertained' most nights by our US colleagues.

Last night we went to Smith and Wollenski's, the famous steakhouse in mid-town Manhattan.  These big 'chain' restaurants all follow a familiar theme.  Average to rude service, average to poor food, pretty good ambience and very average wine lists.

Last night was as expected, save for the wine, which was good.   A long list - entirely US of course - with a reasonable price spread and some with a (little) age.   We settled on a 1999 Lorca Petite Syrah from Napa.   What a surprise.   Huge fruit, good deep colour, high alcohol at 14.2%, very dry and still tannic, it had a few more years in it for sure.

It was so good we had to have a second bottle.   Well, it's the best way I know of to deal with the jet lag.

Jack Edwards, the veteran campaigner for the rights of war veterans widows, died on Sunday in Hong Kong.   A proud Welshman, British Patriot and unrelenting thorn in the side of the British government, whom he believed disgracfully let down the survivors of loyal servants of the Crown, he was also one of the oldest members on the Hong Kong Male Welsh Voice Choir.

I have friends in the choir and was fortunate to meet Jack several times.   The last - at one of the annual Choir concerts - was 2 years ago.   Jack was in the audience, with wife Polly and joined in an impromptu sing-song after the show had officially finished.   Jack was Welsh Choir royalty and the rendition of Men of Harlech, was all for him.

From the Telegraph

Jack Edwards, who has died aged 88, survived the notorious Japanese prisoner-of-war camp and copper mine at Kinkaseki, Taiwan, to become a relentless campaigner for former servicemen and their widows in the Far East.

The greatest triumphs arising from his battles with the British government were the award of pensions to ethnic Chinese veterans and their widows in Hong Kong, agreed in 1991, and the granting of British passports to survivors' wives and widows in the run-up to the handover of Hong Kong to China in 1997. Increasingly exasperated by the government's refusal to give way over the latter issue, Edwards devised a series of elaborate stunts, finally mounting a daily vigil outside Government House in Hong Kong, at which he carried the first Union Jack to be hoisted over Victoria Peak after the Japanese surrender. Eventually he was summoned inside to meet John Major, the prime minister, who was in Hong Kong for final negotiations in early 1996. "Major placed his hand on my arm and said he had some good news," he later recalled. "I said, 'Thank goodness for that.'" Jack Edwards was born at Cardiff on May 24 1918.

Having joined the Royal Corps of Signals, he was a sergeant in Singapore when it fell to the Japanese in 1942. On being taken prisoner, his first job was removing from the beaches the corpses of captives killed by the Japanese at sea and thrown overboard.
 
Later that year he was transferred from Changi jail to the Japanese colony of Taiwan, then known as Formosa. Kinkaseki, in the mountains near Jiufen, never achieved the notoriety of the Burma railway, but is acknowledged to have been among the most brutal of the Japanese camps. Inmates worked the mine daily in tropical heat until they dropped or died in rock-falls. Those failing to meet the steep production targets were beaten viciously by the Japanese and Taiwanese guards. Malnutrition, beri-beri and dysentery claimed many lives. As the end of the war approached, the emaciated survivors were marched to a mountainside south of Taipei, where they were forced to build a new camp in the jungle. Those who made it to the Japanese surrender - 64 out of an original 526 (though some had been transferred elsewhere) - were "walking on the narrow edge between man and animal," Edwards wrote. "All of us looked ghastly, eyes sunken, mere skeletons, covered with rashes, sores, or cuts which would not heal. Others too far gone to save were blown-up with beri-beri, legs and testicles like balloons."

Forty years later he recorded his experiences in a book, Banzai, You Bastards! The title, he said, was not intended to be inflammatory, but referred to the only release from suffering, other than death, that the prisoners enjoyed: as the Americans advanced across south-east Asia, bombing raids would force the guards and camp commanders into shelters; the inmates would emerge from their huts and, when no one was looking, cheer on the bombers with borrowed war-cries. On one occasion Edwards was overheard and beaten with bamboo rods.

The book was translated and published in Japan (where Edwards was, in his later years, to make many friends) under the more conciliatory title Drop Dead, Jap! While a PoW Edwards had discovered that a tunnel built into a nearby hillside was to be the prisoners' tomb: orders had been given that, should the Americans land in Taiwan, the PoWs were to be taken there and shot. After the war he returned to Kinkaseki with war crimes investigators, and gave evidence at the subsequent trial in Tokyo.

 Edwards spent a year recuperating in London, then returned to south Wales, where he worked in local government; but he was unable to settle, and in 1963 took up a post in the housing department of the Hong Kong administration. There he became active in the Royal British Legion and the Hong Kong Ex-Servicemen's Association.

Among the successful campaigns which he supported were the effort by former "comfort women" to force the Japanese government to admit that their enslavement into prostitution was an official policy, not just a by-product of war; and, in 1986, the granting of British passports to Hong Kong ex-servicemen. He was greatly outraged to discover that ethnic Chinese servicemen, and their widows, were not entitled to war pensions, unlike the British alongside whom they had fought. "When I first learned this, I assumed it must have been a mistake, an oversight," he said later. "When I wrote to the Ministry of Defence and found it was policy, I felt deeply ashamed to be British, though I had always been a patriot."

On having this wrong rectified in 1991, Edwards turned his attention to winning passports for ex-servicemen's wives and widows, whom the British government had decided did not qualify to be part of the scheme which gave citizenship to 50,000 Hong Kong residents before the handover. Edwards argued that a clause offering 6,300 passports in recognition of "special services to the Crown" could be used for the women, but he was repeatedly rebuffed. As well as writing letters to the administration and government, he raised the issue with visiting politicians and eventually won the support of the last governor, Chris Patten. At one point, he ambushed John Major while the prime minister was on an official visit to Tokyo.

In 1995, at the parade down the Mall commemorating the 50th anniversary of VJ Day, he carried a protest banner. By the time of Major's change of heart, Edwards had come to be seen even by some sympathisers as a "difficult" character, with his daily Union Jack vigil outside Government House. But in the wake of the decision, beneficiaries of his campaigns wrote to the South China Morning Post demanding Edwards be given a knighthood.

In the end, he was appointed OBE in the Birthday Honours' List of 1997, to add to his earlier MBE.

Edwards's first marriage did not survive the war. In the 1970s he met Polly Tam So-lan, a former member of a Chinese People's Liberation Army dance troupe. She and Edwards married in 1990, and lived in a flat in Sha Tin new town. Edwards, who spoke fluent Cantonese, insisted on hanging his Union Jack from his window on Remembrance Day. The couple shared a love of dancing, which they practised in their small living-room to recordings of Taiwanese songs.

Jack Edwards, who died on Sunday, is survived by his wife and her daughter by her first marriage.

This blog is not turning into a restaurant critic's homepage, but mention must be made of yesterday evening's Chinese Supper Club's visit to Joy King Lau in Chinatown.

I had almost forgotten how much I missed having plates and bowls thrown on the table.   Or how savagely a waiter can tear the wrapper off a pair of chopsticks, or violently pour soup.   And how good Tsing Tao beer is with Dao Miu steamed with garlic and crispy Yue Gaap.

Ho sik.   Ho bau.  Ngoh ho jung-yi chung-kwok chaan.

Spent an enjoyable evening at the Gun pub / restaurant in the Docklands on Monday night with David from Tressillian blogspot.  One of his remarkable pictures is below.

From their website:   The Gun is a Grade II listed riverside pub which dates back to the early 18th century. It is situated on the banks of the Thames in Docklands and is directly across the water from the Millennium Dome and a stone's throw away from Canary Wharf.

About 4 years ago, a terrible fire destroyed much of the interior of the old building and the pub then remained closed until September 2004 when Tom & Ed Martin re-opened the doors. This followed about 9 months of painstaking restoration works in close consultation with English Heritage.

The Gun now has a 40 cover dining room in the main bar, a back bar with two snugs, two private dining rooms and a fabulous riverside terrace that seats 50.

There has been a public house on the site of the Gun for over 250 years. The surrounding area was home to the dockside iron foundries which produced the guns for the Royal Naval fleets.

The pub dates back to the early 18th Century but it took its current name from the cannon which was fired to celebrate the opening of the West India Import Docks in 1802.

In the late 18th century Lord Horatio Nelson acquired a property just up the road, still known as Nelson's house, and he regularly visited the docks to inspect the guns up until his glorious death at the battle of Trafalgar in 1805.

Lord Nelson would frequent The Gun and to meet Lady Emma Hamilton in an upstairs room for their secret assignations.

The Gun also has a long association with smugglers landing contraband on the site and distributing it via a hidden tunnel. To this day there is still a spy-hole in the secret circular staircase to watch out for "The Revenue Men".

As the docks on the Isle of Docks flourished so did the pub, becoming the local for dockers, stevedores and boatmen.

The food is modern, without being over trendy and of a high standard.   Slightly daft over sized plates for the starters I thought, but quality was high.  An excellent Halibut over spinach with clams and a salty butter sauce made an excellent main course.  Sensible Reidel wineglasses and a reasonable list, coupled with good service, provided a result and a good reason to return.

Thanks Shivs.... not sure what to say!

Saturday was P day.   Or Poult day to be more precise.   Up with the lark (well, at 6 anyway), which is generally not a civilised time to be up and about.  Breakfasted and in the car by a quarter to 7.   Quite pleased with myself.

Shoot captain had said to be at the game farm at 7, so I called to see where he was.   'Erm, not quite left Pewsey yet' was the response. 
   more »

Now I've only done one of these before and the response was somewhat underwhelming.   I just couldn't resist this one..... and you can do better!

Human rights-campaigners defending the rights of the anti-social must be sick of the sight of 22-year-old Michael Carroll, "king of the chavs" and face of anti-social Britain 2005. The Lotto Lout of Norfolk became something of a celebrity in 2002 when he won £9.7 million and proceeded to spend his ...   more »

This week has seen the announcment of plans to interfere with that which needs no interference.   Both are motoring related and extend beyond the concrete landscape of the urban wasteland, into the real world.

The first, by some bunny hugging save the planet eco weenies is a proposal to impose punitive taxes on the bigger polluting 4x4's in order to discourage their use.   I know the tax was upped by his Wasteship earlier this year, but even Dr. Millipede confirmed on Radio 4 yesterday that it was not really going to make a difference.   We all knew that, but then, as this is all to do with tax raising rather than behaviour altering, it came as no surprise.

This latest wheeze suggests annual licence fees be increased to... wait for it... £1,800 per vehicle.   That is a 650% increase.   So, in reality, those who need a 4x4 for their work with either pay up - or there will be an expensive to operate and police exemption scheme, wasting even more money - and those who don't need a 4x4 will pay because they can afford it.

Queue a complete failure to address global warming, but a nice little earner for No.11....   more »

Busy busy this weekend.   Off to Countrywide with neighbour Panther first thing for a few clays.   A whole pallet board should see him and his clay club cronies through to Christmas.   Longer if I'm invited as the chance of re-use goes up...quite a bit.

Then a search for a tow bar for the Disco.   Easy peasy you might think, down our way.   Oh, so not so...  Caravan accessory shops - don't sell them.   Mobile home accessory shops - not there either.   Countrywide?  Nope, not a hitch in sight.  So off to good old LandRover... wallet warmed, ready to be abused (although why I take such precautions is beyond me as they have yet to have anything I need actually in stock).

Needn't have worried.   It was 10 past 1 and they'd knocked off for the day.   At least I was able to pick up a brochure and see exactly what I needed... a slider plate, pin and tow ball.   Armed with the jargon I thought a bit of googling during the week would sort me out.

Ash and I then headed over to the Wroughton Classic.   Billed as a car show plus, it is held annually at the home of the Science Museum collections, at Wroughton.   This weekend was the vintage and classic car show and I thought it would be nice to have a browse and snap a few piccies.

Unfortunately no one had organised the vintage and classic cars for Saturday... they were due only on Sunday... pretty basic oversight I'd say....    No matter, we had a tour of Hangar D4, which contains a variety of exhibits either too big, or not sufficiently important to display in London.  

From Penny Farthings, to serious Suzuki's, light aircraft and even a Lockheed Constellation, it was an impressive collection.   And a few cars too - notably a Citroen DS, Lotus Excel, Lagonda, Rolls Royce Silver Ghost and more - so we had an enjoyable couple of hours.

Next morning, kids and I headed off to the shoot for some final pre poult prep.  My doubting fellow guns did not believe the patented high tech in pen plumbing would work but, after a bit of help from Mr FM, water flowed.   Queue raspberry sound effect.

Smug and happy we set off to see the new house with yours truly unintentionally taking the scenic route and consequently being 30 minutes late.   Much time was spent measuring and photographing and mentally arranging furniture and, just before we were to leave, I mentioned my towbar dilemma to the vendor who is exceptionally well versed in all things LandRover.   Two minutes later I had slider plate, pins, towbar and hitch fitted, from his extensive on site supply.

So, many thanks,  a result all round and a good end to a good weekend.

In an interview for GQ magazine, Paris Hilton admitted she hadn't heard of Tony Blair.

Lucky sod.

Anyway, after a bit of prompting she recalled he was our 'President, or something'.

And do you know, I thought she was a bit of a muppet?  She was at least half right..

And she's made $200 million over the last year.

Oh, where did we go wrong???!!!

Sad to report that the 911 has been sold.   Sob.  A sensible decision given our immininent move and wish to do a bit of cost control.   Made a little easier after I wrote the cheque for the gearbox repair and service.   I focussed on that as I signed the contract to sell.

Which included a commitment to buy.  Pictured below resplendant in Electric Blue paint, is a MINI Cooper S.   Not as quick as the Porsche, but still lots of fun.   The daft extra lights and go faster stripes are being removed and I should have the car on Thursday.  

Will likely be unable to resist sharing with you how good it is to drive....

The owner of an Owl Sanctuary in Indian Queens in Cornwall is called Tom Screech.

Incredible, but true.

There was a time when TOTP was pretty cheesy and something you wouldn't really be seen dead watching.   That was about 2 months after it was really cool to watch it and you'd never miss a show.  Fact is we all went through that phase at some time growing up.  The actual years vary for us all and are not relevant.

Highlights for me where Wham!, with Young Guns, Blondie's first appearance singing Rip Her to Shreds and the somewhat awkward times when either the Sex Pistols, or Frankie Goes to Hollywood were No.1 and they couldn't play them......

Sadly now it seems that with the advent of so many other avenues to access music and music video, viewing figures have tumbled to just over 1 million from a peak of 15 million in it's heyday.

The first programme opened with the Rolling Stones, who mimed I Wanna Be Your Man, then Number 13 in the "hit parade". The final show, to be screened on BBC2 on Sunday, will feature black-and-white footage of the same band performing their 1965 hit This Could Be The Last Time.

I think it is all rather well summed up by The Rezillos with their biggest hit, Top of the Pops.  

"Does it matter what is shown
Just as long as everyone knows
What is selling what to buy
The stock market for your hi fi
Take the money - leave the box
Everybody's on Top Of The Pops"

Irony indeed.

According to Top Gear Magazine this is the worlds sexiest car:

The ones it beat included the Aston Martin DBS, Maserati Quattroporte, Rolls Royce Phantom and of course, the Porsche 911.

This explains why I don't buy Top Gear Magazine.

Back to reality with a bump this morning as I returned to work in London after a week in Cork.  

We were there en famille competing in the Cork week regatta while the kids attended the Oysterhaven watersports centre.

We'd chartered a boat and entered a Hong Kong team and more on this later, but suffice to say we had one of the best holidays ever.

Here's a taster of the sailing:

I'll post a bit more about the sailing in a day or so....

Welcome to Wymsey.   Wymsey is a real village.  Well, real enough in someone's imagination... and what an imagination. 

Wymsey village, as you find it today, is much the same as it was yesterday and, we hope, as you will find it tomorrow. Explore the village at your leisure - why not spend the day with us, take lunch at The Crown and Thorns where you will find fine ales and a menu of traditional pub fare (loads of chips) prepared freshly (from the freezer) by the wife of mine host Sam Toogood. Take afternoon tea at the Bus Stop Cafe (if it's a Wednesday) where everything is home baked by Brenda Starling and her team of girl guides. And, if you are looking for a Victorian pine pew pop into Gordon's Chapel Emporium and why not pick up some of his fine organic onions while you are there.

Want to visit?   Click here      Have a good trip.

 

A survey carried out for Swiftcover.com, an online insurance compancy has concluded that speed cameras are the least effective way of improving road safety.   The cameras, which last year reaped revenue of more than £114m in speeding fines, were ranked at the bottom of a list of initiatives aimed at reducing accidents.

More than half of drivers questioned (54%) thought cameras encouraged people to drive more erratically and almost three quarters (71%) thought they made motorists less aware of hazards on the road, therefore increasing the risk of accidents.

Swiftcover questioned 2,000 motorists, asking them to rate various road safety initiatives. The most popular was speed-activated flashing warning signs telling drivers they have exceeded the limit, followed by variable speed limits, speed bumps and “keep your distance” chevrons. Cameras were 10th in the list.

But top for revenue.    Coincidence?    Nope.   Just proof that road safety is not the real priority.

Syd Barrett, the eccentric guitarist who, with Nick Mason, Roger Waters and Richard Wright founded Pink Floyd, died earlier this week at his home in Cambridge.

Setting a standards early on as one of Rock fame's greatest casualties, he left the band towards the end of an early US tour, after one album and only 3 years after they had begun.

Unable to cope with drink, drugs and fame he became almost catatonic on stage and increasingly reclusive, quitting to live a quite life in anonymity with his mother.

Syd was replaced by David Gilmour who ensured he continued to receive royalties, reputed to amount to over four million pounds a year.   The last time the band saw him was when he turned up unannouced at a studio while they were recording the album, Wish You Were Here.   Track 1, Shine On You Crazy Diamond was a tribute to Syd.

When Pink Floyd reformed last year for Live8, Dave Gilmour dedicated Wish You Were Here to people no longer with us and, in particular to Syd.

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

A statement from Pink Floyd said: "The band are naturally very upset and sad to learn of Syd's death. He was the guiding light of the early band line-up and leaves a legacy which continues to inspire."

Pink Floyd are one of the most recognisable names in modern music and for the last 32 years have had at least one album in the US charts.

The incidence of internet only adverts - those short avi or mpeg files of commercials - has provided companies with a wonderful marketing opportunity.   They can be much longer, more creative and, of course, un-broadcastable.   Once made they are circulated freely, providing fabulous widespread and almost immediate global publicity.

The most well known are surely the one for Ford Ka's, where the pigeon gets whacked by the bonnet, or the 'mouse trap' advert for the Honda, ending with a wheel rolling away.

Here's a cracker from Australia, called the Big Aussie Ad.  Its for Carlton Beer

Enjoy..... and have one for me, as it's my birthday today.   more »

Now the irony of this is not lost on me.   I did watch the last few minutes of full time and then the 30 minutes of extra time and then the penalties.   For all but the penalty shoot out, it was a boring game.

But the gossip around the coffee machine this morning has nothing to do with actually playing football, rather it is all to do with a really good head butt by French captain, Zinedine Zidane, playing has last game as captain.

It was always scheduled to be his last game; the utopian Gallic script was that he would lead his team to a glorious victory (they were, of course, in white) - and in fairness, pundits did feel they played the better game - but it was not to be.

Ten minutes before the end, in a 'moment of madness', or perhaps 'hand of God' (or should that be 'head of God'), ZZ sent oponent Marco Materazzi flying flat on his back.   As head butts go, it was a cracker.  Cleanly taken, with good concentration, a swift and precise move right in the centre of the sternum, with a neat finish.

Queue one red card, an early bath and time for bed for Zebedee.

This further confirmed all my views about football.   This was a dreary game (according to folks that know, not just me, I was just bored) and, with no resolution after 30 minutes of extra time the final of the 2006 Football World Cup was decided by 5 penalty shots each.

Now this rule is fair to all: it's applied evenly and it cost more than one team victory in this competition (no sour grapes here dear reader, we were crap at the footy, but we did win the shopping - not that that is any consolation whatsoever.. but don't start me on the WAG's).   It makes televising the games easy, but there cannot be a more unsatisfactory way to end a match, never mind a World Championship.

Of course it adds tension, creates drama and ensures no-one leaves the stadium before the end, but surely the fans, teams and players deserve a solution that involves one team beating another, in open play?

Maybe ZZ, confronted with a stalemate at 1:1 and the prospect of another penalty shoot out, was just bored too?

Walking through St. Helier High St. in Jersey on Tuesday, you should have seen the amount of discounted 'Ingerrrlaaand' logo'd kit on sale ....  Cheap T shirts by the gross.  I bet all those plonkers with flags on their cars feel.. well, like plonkers now.

So, thank heaven it is all over.   Two Shags and the usual political blood letting dominate the news again, even pushing the demise of Enron's Ken Lay to the depths of page 5.   Proof, if we ever needed it, that in the battle for the front page, a good political scandal has no equal.

I will end my cup comments by appending a joke, which is in effect a rehash of a fairly poor taste one set in South Africa, during apartheid.  I'll say no more..

Out on her royal yacht the queen was enjoying the sea air when she spied a man in the water off the port bow - clearly being menaced by a very large shark.

Through her binoculars she could see it was Christian Ronaldo, struggling frantically to free himself from the jaws of a 20 foot shark! The queen ordered the captain to change course to try and save the poor man, but she knew the yachts top speed would never get them there in time.

At that exact moment a speedboat containing three men wearing white tops sped into view. One of the men took aim at the shark and fired a harpoon into its ribs, immobilising it instantly. The other two reached out and pulled Ronaldo from the water and, using long clubs, beat the shark to death.

They bundled the bleeding, semi-conscious Ronaldo into the speedboat along with the dead shark and prepared for a hasty retreat, when they heard frantic calling ...... It was the Queen calling them to the yacht.

On reaching yacht the Queen went into raptures about the rescue and said, "I'll give you a knighthood for your brave actions. I thought the England team would hate Ronaldo after the world cup. But I see that the England team are true heroes and should serve as a model for sportsmanship to other countries." She knighted them and sailed away. As she departed Rooney asked the others, "Who was that?!

"That," Beckham answered, "was our Queen. She rules the Commonwealth and knows everything about our country."

"Well," Rooney replied, "she knows F all about shark fishing. How's the bait holding up?"

Thanks to Stuart for that one.