Wanker

Someone has knocked my bike over, done a thousand quid’s worth of damage and left the scene without leaving details. Worse, it has happened in the office car park, so it’s presumably either a client or someone who works here, either as a member of staff or a contractor.

HTML keyboard bookmarklet

I just thought that the special character converter would be a useful pop–up from the browser toolbar, to make it easier to access when you’re composing a blog post and need a em dash in a hurry or something. So I made a little Blogger version. Drag this link to your toolbar: HTML keyboard

Update 20/07/04: Now that the Blogger chaps have created the new WYSIWYG editing interface, you’ll need to be in the “Edit html” mode rather than the “Compose” mode to input characters from this keyboard into your blog posts. Otherwise, the editor will automatically escape the ampersands to “&amp”, causing the code (eg. ∂) to appear on your blog, rather than the character (eg. ∂).

Restaurant reviews from last week

Just to catch up on other dining experiences from last week for all you London restaurant buffs:

Went to the Criterion at Piccadilly Circus on the Sunday Times deal (some might say I never learn!). Great room, OK food, average to poor service. Couldn’t really say I recommend the place from what I have seen. But then again, I suspect that this deal is unlikely to be indicative of what happens when you pay the full whack. Which, as I said about Quo Vadis, is not really the idea of running a deal, but there it is… Being fair, from a reviewing perspective, I have to give the benefit of the doubt and say that the jury’s still out on the Marco–Pierre White places. But I certainly don’t feel particularly inspired to conduct further investigations into these restaurants at full expense, so the deal has, at that level, failed. Oh, they brought the wrong wine this time but fortunately I spotted it before they opened it so didn’t have to repeat the unpleasantness experienced at Quo Vadis. Incidentally, the waiter was totally unapologetic, and indeed, appeared irritated when I informed him politely (I have, admittedly arguably partisan, witnesses!) of the error.

Later in the week I went to Home, on Leonard Street in Shoreditch. This was nice. Much less formal, nice atmosphere, good service (of the friendly, informal style, rather than being technically flawless, which it wasn’t), food was fine, if not startling (I enjoyed the food more than what I ate at the Criterion). Not cheap (although still worked out only about a fiver a head more than the Criterion on the deal) but recommended.

Good old-style English hotel

Was at the Lygon Arms at Broadway in the Cotswolds for the weekend, celebrating my Dad’s 60th. Very nice old–style place. Food was good too. Happy Birthday Dad!

I just ran down to Tower Bridge this lunchtime and the bridge was up. Don’t see that too often.

This article is spot on. The British Government needs to stand up for its citizens more. It’s quite right that Garry Mann shouldn’t be imprisoned after a Mickey Mouse Portuguese trial. And the Government should be doing more to protest the incarceration of its citizens in Guantanamo Bay without any trial at all. Plus, until the US shows that it is going to observe due process and respect the right to a fair trial, the Government should also tell the US to get stuffed if they want to extradite a British citizen on terrorist charges, even if the citizen in question might appear to be a complete wanker.

RHCP

Went to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers in Hyde Park on Saturday. It’s good to hear the Chilis but it’s just got too big. Standard–price (£35 plus booking fee!) tickets put you at a fence about 60 yards back from the stage. It was like paying to push up against a fence to watch a gig in the park that you couldn’t get tickets for. The real gig was going on inside the (still very large) Gold Circle restricted area around the stage.

Wanky crowd also. The first support act was booed and bottled and forced to leave the stage before completing their set. James Brown was met with some indifference. Some people in the Gold Circle spent more time taunting the standard ticketholders and drunkenly kicking a football about than watching the band. Fights were threatened and kicked–off in the crowd and bottles flew throughout. People are such wankers. Still, good to hear the Chilis though.

I just realised that this website passed its three year anniversary on 13 May 2004.

Went to see Bill Bailey last night at a packed Hammersmith Apollo. It was a really good evening. He’s a clever, funny geezer. He includes quite a bit of musical stuff into the story, which was funny — a lot of the humour coming from the juxaposition of two things you would not normally associate — eg Kraftwerk do the Hokey Cokey (in German), bluegrass banjo–picker does Lady in Red, Portishead do Zippeedee–doodaa. And he had the crrrazzzy off–the–wall–come–up–with–weird–shit type humour, but at a nice level that I suspect had the whole audience thinking they could relate “hey, groovy, this guy’s got a bit of quirky sense of humour, bit different, just like me — what fun”!? So all–in–all, top evening;— tee hee. Amazing when you think about it that all those people turned up to be entertained by one guy for two hours… but he was good enough.

Economics

So Mervyn King, Governor of the Bank of England, advises housebuyers to “consider carefully the possible future paths of both house prices and interest rates”. Well, no shit, Merv. Cheers for that.

I’ve duly scratched my head and considered them. Unfortunately, not being a soothsayer, I am none the wiser. I am left to conclude that if house prices keep rising and interest rates fall, I am laughing. If house prices and interest rates stay the same, I am roughly where I am now. If house prices drop a bit and interest rates rise a bit, I am slightly screwed but I won’t go bankrupt. And if house prices bomb and interest rates soar, I am totally screwed and I will go bankrupt. Well, that was worthwhile, wasn’t it? Not sure exactly what I’m supposed to do about it though.

I guess I’ve never understood economics. I hope these guys know what they’re doing. Whatever happens, I don’t expect Mervyn King is in danger of going into negative equity. Nope, it’ll be the ordinary, hardworking homeowners of this country who’ll get shafted if the fall in house prices that the elite bankers are suddenly trying to encourage actually starts to happen.

Medium rare deal

Went to Quo Vadis on Dean Street last night on the Sunday Times £15 for three courses deal. These deals are a funny business. Presumably, the thinking by the marketing people is to get people who would not otherwise consider dining at Quo Vadis to try the restaurant. If they really like it, they will come back at full rates. However, what actually happens is that because the people who turn up for the deal don’t behave like the usual clientele, the staff at the restaurant aren’t used to it and get all snotty, reinforcing the behaviour of the new clientele to which the staff originally took exception. So you get a self–perpetuating cycle, where the new guests think “stuff this, these guys think we’re arseholes, we’re not coming back here” and the staff think “thank Christ we don’t have to deal with chavs like this all the time — when does this blasted deal end”?

Last night, I reckon more than half the people in the restaurant were on the deal. Let’s have a look at what was going on… The table of four next to us on one side all sent their fish back because they considered it undercooked. Once they had eaten, the waiter enquired whether everything was OK. One of the men replied “it was fine, but there wasn’t much of it”! The waiter looked somewhat askance. One of the women said “Derek, I think they think we’re plebs”. Derek said “that’s alright, we’re off somewhere else to fill up with another dinner when we get out of here”.

One of the couple to our other side merely insisted on talking loudly into his mobile phone during dinner — admittedly a sin so common it is scarcely to be remarked upon. To be fair, it was not long before his dining companion shushed him.

Meanwhile, across the room, a women in another group of four was causing a colossal scene because the restaurant had allegedly run out of her chosen dessert. Insisting on seeing the manager, she launched into a tirade about how “a premier London restaurant at 10 o’clock” shouldn’t have run out of stuff, even if it was a promotional deal. She pronounced herself “absolutely disgusted”. Strangely enough, the rant produced the desired dessert, so maybe the restaurant had been playing a bit fast–and–loose. She later called the manager back out post–dessert for an almost exact repeat of her earlier points; for reasons I don’t quite understand.

So now we come to the two of us. We’d had a great dining experience with good food and a good bottle of sauvignon blanc. All was well until we decided to order an after–dinner drink with our coffees. First, they gave us the menu card with beers, Coke and Fanta on it. No, we said, we want more of a digestif. They came back with the menu card with the Baileys and Malibu and Midori on it (which I swear they must have had specially printed when they knew that they would running this deal… “what will zoze barbarians drink comme digestif, Pierre? Ch'ez pas, Jean–Marc, go and buy ze Malibu from Safeway, eh?”). No, the real menu. The one you normally give out after dinner.

We finally got there. We’ll have the Armagnac, please (there was only one Armagnac on the menu). When the bill arrived, I was surprised to note that two vintage Cognacs appeared on it, at a price which came to about the same as the total value of the food we had eaten. We called the waiter. “Yes, I pour ze Cognacs, of course. Ze Cognac is complettlee different from Armagnac — you should have refuse immediately, is unbelievable!”. Well maybe it is, but unfortunately I don’t go out quaffing French brandy in nice restaurants often enough to know the difference in a blind tasting, without comparison, after a bottle of wine, when I am anyway predisposed towards believing that what I have been presented with is actually what I have ordered. Also, how the heck did you come up with the Hine Antique 25 year old from the middle of the Cognacs list when we asked for “the Armagnac” and pointed to the one and only Armagnac on the menu (separate from the Cognacs)? I mean, even if you were confused, wasn’t it worth checking? Slightly odd that two punters on a Sunday Times deal decide to finish up with the third most expensive brandy in the joint?

Well, we paid just for the Armagnacs, felt like tossers, the staff no doubt thought “bloody Sunday Times deal scum” and we left after what was nearly a perfect night feeling pretty patronised by the waiter. I almost paid for the Cognacs, just to prove that I wasn’t bothered, but I decided I could afford more self–confidence than that. I have nothing to prove to those guys, it was their fault and they treated me like a tosser. Will we go back? Don’t think so, dude.

Reality 1 : Marketing 0.

Bollocks about cigs

Could this article about the right of the poor to enjoy a cigarette be any more patronising?

“…my house is within easy drive–by–shooting distance of several large estates. Each day, vastly overweight teen–agers from the local comprehensive waddle past my gate, shedding crisp packets as they go. In the afternoons, girls who ought to be sitting their GCSEs perambulate past with their progeny, sharing fags as they head for the local one o’ clock club. Every middle–class bone in my body shudders in horror; I am hardwired to disapprove.

I have no right, of course. What do I know about their circumstances, who am I to judge them? But the truth is, they upset me. Not so much because of my strong social conscience; more because they destabilise my middle–class certainties, impinge on my own calorie–controlled, organically certified idyll. In short, they spoil the view.

What I would like most of all is for everyone to be like me. To re–cycle, to eat their greens, to drive within the speed limit, to exercise regularly, to read edifying bedtime stories to their children. But I am a fool. Those kids wandering past my house no more want to be me than I want to be them. It would be the most unutterable pomposity to assume otherwise”.

Bollocks. Those kids (lame stereotype that they may be) haven’t sat down and made an informed choice to get fat, have kids young, smoke, because they reject the comfortable, healthy middle–class lifestyle. They are a product of their environment and opportunities. And this article is a snide load of crap.

Barcelona stag weekend

Just got back from Sharko’s stag weekend in Barcelona. Snapped a couple of amusing pictures on the phone camera while we were out and about last night:

Gary

Freddie

Our friends the Europeans

You could not make this up. Spanish defence minister awards himself the Grand Cross for Military Merit for presiding over the withdrawal of Spanish troops from Iraq. He is then forced to relinquish the medal after being lampooned by opposition politicians, members of his own party, satirical television shows and newspaper cartoons.

So according to Jim Gee, chief executive of NHS Security Management Services, “the NHS really is a privilege for people and, if you abuse that privilege, then it will be taken away”. And there’s me thinking that the NHS was a national service to provide healthcare, free at the point of delivery, paid for by the taxes of the people of this country (and, if you believe the Daily Mail, provided to the people of most other countries). Seriously, I don’t think that is how it is supposed to work. Are we really saying that public services can be denied to people who do something which the chief of security (or anyone else for that matter) regards as being abuse of those public services?

ROCK

Bit of a random one for a wet Tuesday night, but yesterday I went to see A Whole Lot of Metal at Croydon’s Fairfield Hall. It was bloody good fun actually. Those guys really did rock. All–seat auditorium could have dampened the atmosphere, but the band exhorted people to get out of the seats and crowd around the stage. Most complied. The pretty lengthy set was a run–through of 70s and 80s rock covers, with only one song by most artists being played. I think the only exceptions were Sabbath (Headless Cross and Paranoid), Whitesnake (Fool for your Lovin’ and Here I Go Again) and Led Zep (Whole Lotta Love and Rock and Roll). The performance, the musicians and the vocalists seemed pretty damn good to me and it was an enjoyable night, although it was all slightly weird (i.e because it was a bunch of aging rockers who never quite made it to the really big time playing a set of covers to a half–empty hall of Croydon’s finest on a rainy Tuesday night, straight after the bank holiday weekend as well).

Some comedy characters in the audience too, ranging from young kids up the front (Sabbath T–shirts), to bald old rockers (old rock–chick wives in tow, original Sabbath T–shirts), to true mentalist super–fans (constantly head–banging, trying to touch the band at any opportunity, very sweaty T–shirts). A few Mums and Dads at the back as well, I suspect. Given that demographic, not exactly sure what I was doing there, in the shirt I’d worn to work and a pair of chords. But good craic nonetheless.