Friday, September 27, 2002 :

I think I just successfully got some tickets for the Chili's 2003 UK Tour. No chickens will be counted until they drop through the door tho'.

Finally, the UN shows it is not afraid to take decisive action.

Who the hell are Sleater–Kinney.

Thursday, September 26, 2002 :

A propos nothing

In 1492, during Columbus' first voyage to the "new world", he visited the island of Cuba. His sailors were introduced to "Cohiba" by the island natives, a bunch of dried leaves that were smoked in a pipe called a "Tobacco".

Guardian best British blog competition results announced. (We didn't enter).

Uh-oh

There are many disputes as to the origin of Raki, the "Lion's Milk" of Turkey, but I read this morning on www.raki.com, that arak in Arabic means - sweat - and araki - that which makes one sweat.

Wednesday, September 25, 2002 :

Bill Hicks

Here's that Bill Hicks' routine I was trying to remember: "I'm so sick of arming the world and then sending troops over to destroy the fucking arms, you know what I mean? We keep arming these little countries then we go and blow the shit out of em. We're like the bullies of the world, you know. We're like Jack Palance in the movie Shane... Throwing the pistol at the sheep herder's feet: "Pick it up." "I don't wanna pick it up mister, you'll shoot me." "Pick up the gun". "Mister, I don't want no trouble huh. I just came down town here to get some hard rock candy for my kids, some gingham for my wife. I don't even know what gingham is, but she goes through about 10 rolls a week of that stuff. I ain't looking for no trouble mister." "Pick up the gun." Boom boom "You all saw him. He had a gun.""

Night bus conversations

I was on a night bus last night and, finding myself in the unusual position of not being asleep, proceeded to earwig on the various conversations around me (it wasn't difficult because pssed people do talk loudly). My favourite two conversations (more like monologues) were:

Bloke (wearing Ali G sunnies, a Jay Kay hat and generally looking like someone in the music business): "Yeah, they sound really good, like, they could be as good as Metallica. If the singer was better and they could get the rhythm right, that is. That singer though, he sounds like Evan Dando out of Soundgarden or Dave Grohl out of the Foo Fighters. He used to be a drummer you know, in a band, who was it, it'll come to me..... No, can't remember, but I know they were quite big - not in the same league as the Foo Fighters though."

Girl (quite well spoken, probably just started her first term at university): "I feel very proud to be a vegetarian, because, like, you know, if all the cereal crops in the world were shared out equally, there would be enough for 3,000 calories each and we only need about, like, 2,200 each."

If only life were so simple.

I shall be keeping my mouth firmly shut on the bus from now on.

Simon Jenkins in the Times on what he thought of Tony's dossier.

"But yesterday’s dossier is not serious. Mr Blair told us yet again yesterday what a nasty person Saddam is. We know that. The task of leadership is not to write tabloid front pages but to judge how far a threat to the nation’s interest is real and, if so, how the nation should respond proportionately. Neither Mr Blair nor George Bush has yet explained what has suddenly led them to abandon containment of Iraq and to demand Saddam’s head on a plate".

What do you guys think? Are we really going to end up in another war in the Gulf?

Powder Keg

Worrying times here in Spain. Dogged, diminutive moustachioed Jose Maria Aznar ("El Presidente") thinks he has the Basques on the run and has tag-teamed with "Crusading" Judge Balthazar Garzon (he of Pinochet fame) to put the boot into the Basque separatist party Herra Batasuna (which won over 100,000 votes at the last elections, its lowest total for 20 years). The Caped Crusader (acting as prosecutor and, conveniently, judge) went in first, finding the party liable for damage caused by ETA over the years and attempting to seize all the parties assets and, for good measure, close them down. Then El Presidente and his fearless government passed the "Law of Political Parties", a frighteningly wide piece of legislation used to make HB illegal as "enemies of the constitution".

All good repressive fun, but now bombings are going through the roof (so to speak). Two yesterday accounted only for two terrorists and one policeman, last week 25kg of dynamite was found wandering alone in the basque streets, and there have been running battles and marches on all sides.

This is exactly the kind of thing that Franco used to do, and exactly the kind of thing that lead to the forming of ETA. But no-one wants to say it - there's a kind of anti-basque fervour, with Aznar describing ETA as "new nazis" and anyone questioning the motives of the publicity-hungry Crusader being roundly attacked. 800 people have died so far in the fifty odd years of ETA's terrorism, but as anyone who lived through Thatcher's "we don't talk to terrorists" can tell you, the body count goes up, not down, when you stop talking.

Tuesday, September 24, 2002 :

Who has nuclear weapons?

Tony Blair's speech on Iraq and WMD.

OK, there is now a copy on my server also - iraqdossier.pdf.

British Government WMD dossier - released at 8am today

Of course, all the sites where the dossier is posted are currently crashing. I will try to find the dossier somewhere and get it on here.

UPDATE Dossier (currently seems to be working)

Al Gore's speech on the war with Iraq.

I'm going to denounce Saddam on my weblog. That'll show him we mean business. Anyone read Tony Blair's dossier yet? Saw Panorama last night - scary stuff. It was strange on the breakfast news this morning that the point they were highlighting the most was the fact that chemical weapons could be deployed within 45 MINUTES of the order being given. Like, why is this the big point? If he's got the weapons, surely that's the main thing - wouldn't you expect him to be able to deploy them relatively quickly?

Monday, September 23, 2002 :

The Journey from Dalston

I don't have too many Dalston memories. I could usually remember getting there, but getting back seemed to be the problem with us (ex) south of the river boys, such as Mansh ordering a kebab near Clapham Junction whilst wearing a black crushed velvet catsuit (or "assassin's outfit" as he called it) and subsequently walking through the front door avec chicken doner as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a man dressed as some kind of evil sprite in a pantomime to be wandering the streets of SW18 eating junk food, me getting a lift all the way home in the boot of a dodgy minicab whilst dressed as noddy holder, and on the memorable occasion when I didn't get (was incapable of getting?) home at all, the game of "you all play monopoly whilst I sulk and get my todger out" played by one person and nobody else (particularly not Sam, as I remember it). My other prevailing memory is inventing tequila roulette at the kitchen table, and then watching the carnage which ensued, particularly the look on Chrish's face at or just after midnight (just before the front window got put through (from the inside)).

Friday, September 20, 2002 :

Following on from Dalston stories, the Times are writing about our old 'hood also. I think they make it sound rougher than it was - I certainly never had a cab driver refuse to take me home after dark, yet people always quote this as established fact. In fact, I used to train at the Kings Gym with several cab drivers who presumably lived in Dalston and used to get a workout out of the way in the morning before going up West to catch the lunchtime trade.

Feel free to post your Dalston stories here.

Thursday, September 19, 2002 :

Cujo

I've heard one has to discipline dogs so that they know who's boss, but I wouldn't fancy telling this mutt to 'get off the sofa'...

Two links to the Times, but this is a cool story too, about a dude who nearly got away with nicking loads of jewellery from Harvey Nicks by hiding in the roof. Reminds me of that Bill Brackan ball-crash. Hmmm... maybe it's time to get the ball-crashing stories out...

Blimey, the Times like Road to Perdition, the new Sam Mendes flick.

Damned lies and statistics

This is right on the money from audi olympics. The one thing I would add is that women sincerely believe they are excellent drivers, partly due to having been repeated told so by the statistics.

Wednesday, September 18, 2002 :

It has been brought to my attention that there is a picture of me on the "what's new" page of the MCN Ninjas website. I'm famous, me.

Dreams can come true, Cuthbert, Dibble, Barley, McGrew

I've always thought that hearing about other people's dreams is (almost always) boring. Last night I dreamt about being on the way to Bordeaux to meet my parents. I was to travel by boat. While waiting for the boat, I ran into satan, who grabbed hold of me and proceeded to stuff luminous yellow golf balls down my throat. Satan looked very much like Crispin Mills from Kula Shaker. I mention this because when I woke up, April enquired "did you dream"? and, since she asked, I told her. She then told me I need psychiatric help. Told you it would be boring.

Tuesday, September 17, 2002 :

Run like the wind

Manchester United won trophy after trophy in the 1990's and were consistently top scorers in the league, but now they've lost their way.

With the exception of Yorke who scored 20 in 1999, none of Utd's strikers of the 1990's scored more than 19 league goals in a season. Instead, midfielders such as Kanchelskis, Scholes, Giggs, Beckham and Keane, and defenders such as Bruce, Pallister, and Johnsen regularly weighed in. The idea was attack in numbers, create a lot of options in attack and use them. The centre forwards were seen as link players and penalty box poachers - Hughes, Cantona, Sheringham, Yorke the former, McClair, Cole, Ole the latter, with the speediest players in midfield (behind Cantona and Hughes you had Sharpe, Giggs, Keane and Kanchelskis) and a lot of crosses going in.

Now the style has changed. You see them hitting balls behind defenders or trying to thread their way through the middle. The passing is "pretty", but you barely see a cross, you never see that swarm of red shirts steaming in, and they just do not look as scary. It's much easier to take care of two strikers - whoever they are - than a quick and commited attack from an entire team - which is how it used to feel.

Whatever the reasons, whether its a desire to protect a weaker, less organised defence, to accomodate a mega-expensive passer of the ball, to win free kicks on the edge of the box, or even to accomodate a mega-talented striker, they are making a big mistake.

The signs are there: players once famous for getting forward and chasing back are criticised for being too static, Giggs has stopped scoring at home, Scholes and Keane have given it up home and away and the cross count is Transylvanian.

The press questions the confidence, the desire, and the character of the players, but the problem is none of these. No more 451, no more defending as a team. Come on you reds.

Monday, September 16, 2002 :

Be excellent to each other's diversity

Was at (modesty nearly forbids my saying that I threw) a cracking dinner party on Saturday night at which my German pal and his Argentinian girlfriend got thoroughly drunk (I of course remained judgelike) at the cost of, amongst other things, an entire bottle of Majorcan herbal liquor. The conversation ranged over a large number of subjects, taking in the manners of Berliners, the art of the tortilla, the politics of modern Cuba, moral objections to bull fighting (and whether Hitler was pro or anti bullfighting), why the Spanish don't talk about Franco, what's up with Juan Veron, the case for war against Iraq and the treatment of foreigners, but mainly the treatment of foreigners. My indignation at being lumped in with all other anglo-saxons, failing to respect my ethnic diversity as an Englishmen and my cultural diversity as a Cambridge toff, was met by similar indignation by my teuton colleague, sick of being spoken of in the same breath as the thousands of German pensioners inhabiting swathes of Andalucia and the islands, and from la Argentina, tired of being painted as a football fanatic charlatan with a sexy accent and a propensity to kidnap. All of this caused me to ask why educated souls such as ourselves entertain stereotypes and preconceptions concerning each other, and why are so many of the preconceptions negative or, at the very least, unflattering?

Friday, September 13, 2002 :

Dalston stories

Last night was spent having dinner in a Turkish restaurant up on the Blackstock Road, preceded by a run through Dalston with Ed and Grovesy. We ran past my old house on Middleton Road, and past the Chinese take-away we used to frequent. This reminded me of an unbelievable, but true story about it.

From when we moved in it had always been known as the Kingsland Chinese Take-away, indicated by a fairly scruffy painted sign. Then one day, workmen came round and installed a new illuminated bright red sign with yellow writing, bearing the take-away's new name - Golden Foot. The next time we went in we were like "nice sign mate, but what made you choose the name Golden Foot, bit unusual"? The Chinese dude behind the counter assumed a look of horror (this only works if you imagine a Chinese accent - you may see where this is going now…) - "Golden Foot? Golden Foot?! I said Golden FOOD!" (all of the f-words pronounced "fudt", the only difference being the last one was substantially louder). And the next day the workmen were back changing the last letter of the yellow writing.

Then another story from the Dalston days which came up in the Turkish restaurant. I speak a bit of Turkish, having been taught by the guys in the local shop. They were very strict about teaching us Turkish just about every time we went in, like it was really important that we learn it. A few months months down the line, we find out they were not in fact Turks at all, but Kurds. "Why didn't you teach us Kurdish"? "What, are you crazy, no-one speaks Kurdish"?! Of course the only place I have ever used my Turkish was speaking to them. I can still remember how to say "I have a great hunger and much money", always a useful one in the local kebab shop.

Thursday, September 12, 2002 :

This reminds me of my Monopoly tactics as a child...

Wednesday, September 11, 2002 :

Like many, I'm thinking of friends in the US today and considering with trepidation where the hell things are going to go over the next year or so. This article by Simon Schama in the Guardian was interesting. He's a Professor of History at Columbia University in New York. Not sure to what extent I agree with him though. I would not like to be a politician trying to write a speech at a time like this - maybe that's why I'm not a politician. Doc Searls links to / says some interesting stuff as well.

What happened last year was so unbelievable and horrifying. I didn't know what to say then, and I don't know what to say now.

Tuesday, September 10, 2002 :

Got some headphones for the new drum kit and had a first proper play with it last night. And may I say, it kicks ass.

Monday, September 09, 2002 :

So far so good. Friday night, we enjoyed the Cristal 1995. Very nice. Then on Saturday I went to Professional Percussion in Kentish Town and purchased a Ddrum 4 electronic drum kit. Electronic was the option of choice both to avoid decapitation by the neighbours and to allow Kraftwerk action.

Friday, September 06, 2002 :

Ouch, ouch, ouch. Lost over £1,000 in two days on the nags. I now really, really am retiring from gambling. I will be buying a bottle of Cristal to mark the occasion, and hanging onto what remains of my winnings to purchase drum-kits and pay dentists' bills.

Monday, September 02, 2002 :

Geoff has been writing a bit of late - I particularly had a chuckle at

a billboard outside my local church had a large poster with "Jesus saves" printed on it one night someone had sprayed beneath it "and Moses scores on the rebound".

want more?