



The breaking down of statistics into areas by maps is generally a good thing. I like being able to browse about and see random trivial nonsense about the areas near me. I like being able to see that this part of the world isn’t exactly that bad.
Of course, the Norn Irish flavour of map is somewhat less smooth and expensive than the brand spanking new that the Met came up with for their turf.
Things which I’ve learned from that map: when I’m a-visiting London’s fair city, I stay in a fairly nice and well behaved area. But there’s a station nearby that I’ll be avoiding in the future.
Also, the randomness of crime statistics is entertaining.
You can move on with your lives now; I’m just pleased that I could supply you with this important information…




I’m not a massive fan of working around TV schedules. I’ll do it for a few things (Top Gear, mostly), but there are two ones starting this week. First, obviously, is QI, back on our screens (on the Big BBC channel) this Friday.
The other is Oz and James getting drunk on beer, which started earlier this evening.
A show featuring James May (who is so uncool that he’s cool), and a look at the traditional drinks of these islands - including beer and whiskey. How they’re made and what makes them excellent. This is a show that’ll supply me with bajillions of new facts about the beautiful booze.
I’ve long been fond of sharing the fact that beer has saved literally billions of lives over the years, much to the chagrin of the nannying bastards that only ever think about the harm it does. Especially as my tale is based on fact and logic, and their tales are based on fear and fallacy. But my tale (of water purification and fermentation) only talks about the lives saved by beer; Oz and James stated that beer is responsible for nothing less than the birth of civilization: apparently people only started living in communities to allow them to grow and cultivate the ingredients for booze. After they’d stared living together, they started building all that ’society’ gubbins to fill the rest of the day while the hangover faded.
So, when the next nannying, statist bastard tells you that drinking is anti-social, plz to inform them that the entirely of society owes its existence to beer. And then you accept their apology and inform them of your drink of choice, and wait why they buy you some of it in return for you showing them the light…
I’m gonna like this show…




The idea of a space elevator has been around for years, and it’s certainly been knocking about my head since reading Strata way back when. But, as with so many things, the act of thinking that it should be possible doesn’t actually make it possible. And a half-witted teenager thinking about how it might work isn’t going to make it work any time soon.
Or is it? Because I’m pretty sure that most half witted teenagers with ideas like that could have come up with this particular suggestion.
The prospects for the space elevator have been shaken up with a simple prototype using a broomstick.
Age-Raymond Riise of the European Space Agency demonstrated the device at a space elevator conference in December.
…
To demonstrate, he employed a broomstick to represent the cable held in tension, and an electric sander to provide a rhythmic vibration to the bottom of the stick.Around the broomstick’s circumference he tied three brushes representing the climber with their bristles pointing downwards - meaning it took slightly more force to lower the brush assembly than to raise it.
The vibration from the sander allowed the assembly to slide upward along the broomstick as it moved slightly downward, but grip it as it moved slightly upward. The net effect: the assembly rose against gravity straight to the top of the stick.
Simple, and yet brilliant. Yes, a half witted teenager could have thought of it, but they didn’t. And so instead someone from the ESA did, and made a simple video, and now it’s time to solve the other half-million problems with the concept…




I don’t know, somebody makes an effort to lessen the impact of the recession, and make life a bit more bearable, and they’re criticised for it.
This time I’m not criticising Gordon Brown, by the way. Because his VAT cut is not going to make life more bearable nor will it lessen the impact of the recession. No, this time I’m all for the effort.
A pub chain is cutting the price of a pint to 99p to cheer cash-strapped drinkers - but the move has sparked criticism from an alcohol charity.
JD Wetherspoon, which operates 713 pubs across the UK, is offering “indefinite” reductions on some beer, bottled lager, wine and spirits, plus £2.99 meals.
Now, this isn’t going to get people going out and getting shitfaced for a tenner, because the beer in question is 3.6% ABV and isn’t the sort of thing that you go out and neck. Plus, they’re selling half decent food as well for a reduced price. All very good, methinks. And anyway, surely the nannying bastards at Alcohol Concern would approve of the promotion of weaker beer over the stronger ones.
Unless, of course, Alcohol Concern isn’t concerned about binge drinking, or abuse of strong lager. If, however, they were actually out to get rid of the demon drink entirely, then their course of action might be explained away.
But that isn’t at all likely, is it?




Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work we go…
Yes, the last couple of weeks have been nice, and there have been fully eleven days since I last sat in my office. But it’s back to work, and it’s back to the mundane fixing of things.
I think that I should take the wisdom of Scott Adams into work with me, and leave a copy of the following cartoon on each desk in the place. It might make life a little easier…




If you’ve lost your job, if nobody else can help, and if you can distract him from fucking over the rest of the population for the next twenty years, then maybe Gordon will give you one of his 100,000 new ones.
Of course, there’s only one type of job that the government can actually make, and they’re not exactly the most productive of jobs. As to other jobs, in construction or greenishness or anything like that, the most that the government can do is facilitate other people creating jobs.
And the best way to do that? Reduce the regulatory burden round hiring and firing, reduce red-tape in general, and lower tax.
Can you see Brown getting involved in any of that? Because I’m having difficulty in imagining such an image…




And oh, so still…
I’m all alone…
And so peaceful…
until…
Unfortunately, TLG has now departed and returned home. Which means that I am at a loss as to the spending of today.
So, in the proudest traditions of fools everywhere, I’m off out to see if I can throw a glorified hairdrier around the sky.
Hurrah.
(Hopefully, the very one in the video. Because it’s the one with the full flight instruments, and I need to practice them…)




A man and a woman who had never met before, but were both married to other people, found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a transcontinental train. Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly…. he in the upper bunk and she in the lower. At about 1:00 AM, the man leaned over and gently woke the woman saying, “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to let me a second blanket? I’m awfully cold. ”
“I have a better idea,” she replied. “Just for tonight, let’s just pretend that we’re married.”
“Wow! That’s a great idea!” he exclaimed!
“Good,” she replied… “Get your own fucking blanket. ”
After a stunned moment of silence, he farted.
I’d like to thank TLG for sending me that particular one…




If you’re down on your luck…
If there’s nobody else you can call…
And if you can find some card and a permanent marker…
Then maybe you can get a couple of quid using the power of thought…



So, who out of the above would get your hard earned?




As I mentioned t’other day, I have been absent from here for the last few days, as TLG was over for a few days. I’m happy to say that she has been here for a few days, and shall continue to be here for another few. This is a very welcome thing, as I’m sure you can see.
One of the nice things about having a Lovely Girlfriend from outside this particular area is that you can go and do all the touristy things that you can’t see because you could never be a tourist in your own place. So we’ve been going to the occasional odd place, and it has been nice.
And we’ve been going to see the odd film - one of which was not very good, and one which was most excellent. I shall inform you only that one of these films was Yes Man and the other was Twilight and I’ll let you decide which was which…
We’ve been as far away as Dublin and as far west as Randalstown. But only because there’s nothing worth seeing west of Randalstown…
Despite living here for many years, and working in the same damn building for five years, I’d not yet visited the Belfast Giants or the La Tasca in the Odyssey. So both of those were ticked off the list. I fear that TLG is something of a fan of grown men in body armour hitting each other with sticks. I’ll see if I can convert her to a sport where they’re not soft enough to need armour to do this…
We’ve seen the somewhat depressing sight that is Belfast Zoo in December - those poor lions didn’t look like they were enjoying the weather at all.
And we have two and a bit days left to fill. Which is nice.
I may report back in the future, but then I may not be bothered. Either way, I doubt that I’ll be doing it in the next day or two, so plz to entertain yourselves for the time being.




Happy new year to you all.
That is all.




Some are old, some are new, but I can’t be arsed checking which is which, so here you go:
On an Air NZ Flight with a very ’senior’ flight attendant crew, the Pilot said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve reached cruising altitude and will be turning down the cabin lights. This is for your comfort and to enhance the appearance of your flight attendants.’
On landing the hostess said, ‘Please be sure to take all your belongings. If you’re going to leave anything, please make sure it’s something we’d like to have.’
‘There may be 50 ways to leave your lover, but there are only 4 ways to leave the aircraft.’
As the plane landed and was coming to a stop at Auckland , a lone Voice came over the loudspeaker: ‘Whoa, big fella. WHOA!’After a particularly rough landing during thunderstorms in Adelaide, a flight attendant on a Qantas flight announced, ‘Please take care when opening the overhead compartments because, after a landing like that, sure as f*** everything has shifted.’
From a Qantas employee: ‘Welcome aboard Qantas Flight X to Y to operate your seat belt, insert the metal tab into the buckle, and pull tight. It works just like every other seat belt; and, if you don’t know how to operate one, you probably shouldn’t be out in public un-supervised.’
‘In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will descend from the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face. If you have a small child travelling with you, secure your mask before assisting with theirs. If you are travelling with more than one small child, pick your favourite.
‘Weather at our destination is 32 degrees with some broken clouds, but we’ll try to have them fixed before we arrive. Thank you, and remember, nobody loves you, or your money, more than Qantas Airlines.’
‘Your seat cushions can be used for flotation; and in the event of an emergency water landing, please paddle to shore and take them with our compliments
Heard on Qantas Airlines just after a very hard landing in Hobart . The flight attendant came on the intercom and said, ‘That was quite a bump and I know what you are all thinking. I’m here to tell you it wasn’t the airline’s fault, it wasn’t the pilot’s fault, it wasn’t the flight attendant’s fault… it was the asphalt!’
Another flight attendant’s comment on a less than perfect landing: ‘We ask you to please remain seated as Captain Kangaroo bounces us to the terminal.’
An airline pilot wrote that on this particular flight he had hammered his ship into the runway really hard. The airline had a policy which required the first officer to stand at the door while the passengers exited, smile, and give them a ‘Thanks for flying United. ‘He said that, in light of his bad landing, he had a hard time looking the passengers in the eye, thinking that someone would have a smart comment. Finally everyone had got off except for an old lady walking with a cane. She said, ‘Sonny, mind if I ask you a question?’ ‘Why no Ma’am,’ said the pilot. ‘What is it?’
The little old lady said, ‘Did we land or were we shot down?’After a real crusher of a landing in Sydney , the Flight Attendant came on with, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain in your seats until Captain Crash and the Crew have brought the aircraft to a screeching halt against the gate. And, once the tire smoke has cleared and the warning bells are silenced, we’ll open the door and you can pick your way through the wreckage to the terminal.’
Part of a flight attendant’s arrival announcement: ‘We’d like to thank you folks for flying with us today. And, the next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurised metal tube, we hope you’ll think of Qantas.’
A plane was taking off from Mascot Airport . After it reached a comfortable cruising altitude, the captain made an announcement over the intercom, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Welcome to Flight Number XYZ, non-stop from Sydney to Auckland . The weather ahead is good and, therefore, we should have smooth and uneventful flight. Now sit back and relax - ARGHHH! OH, MY GOD!’ Silence followed and after a few minutes, the captain came back on the intercom and said, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I am so sorry if I scared you earlier, but, whi le I was talking, the flight attendant brought me a cup of coffee and spilled the hot coffee in my lap. You should see the front of my pants!’
A passenger in Economy said, ‘That’s nothing. He should see the back of mine!’
Top o’the hat to TLG.




Emailed, as is so much, by TLG.




I thank TLG for pointing out this latest method used by Nanny to ensure that nobody enjoyed themselves too much this Christmas.
Britain beware. The nation has been put on alert for a sinister Christmas-time menace.
Failure to heed the warnings, say ministers, could result in “tipsy” grandmas “toppling down the stairs” or “crashing to the floor when they miss their seat at the dinner table”, exploding gravy dishes and “parents stabbing themselves with scissors they’ve grabbed instead of screw-drivers to assemble toys”.
These danger signs are outlined in a “festive” leaflet designed to look like an Advent calendar and entitled “Tis the Season to Be Careful”. Some 150,000 will be thrust upon unsuspecting shoppers in high streets around the country in the last three shopping days before Christmas.
Of course, that hundred and fifty thousand copies of a scare story are as nothing compared to Nanny’s scary output. In Belfast alone, this has manifested in dozens of posters all over the city warning people that buying electronic presents could easily cause your entire family to DIE IN A FIRE. And many dozens of hours of radio commercials promising that Christmas driving will cause your family to receive sympathy cards, not Christmas cards. And television ads along the same lines, and newspaper spreads highlighting the downfall of society caused by x bogeyman of the week…
What is it, do you think, that causes people to go specifically out of their way to find more and more unlikely implausible excuses to scare us? Why do you have to go and point out that unless we secure our attic doors that EVIL MONSTERS from the attic will come down and kill us? Or that not washing the handle of our toasters may cause us to DIE from some wonderful new infection?
Me, I think it’s because people are bastards. It’s the only explanation that fits…
On top of that, there are the frankly disgusting ads by charities that specialise in scaring money out of people - in particular I’m looking at the NSPCC ‘baby P’ ad, which seriously had me considering if I could ring them up and demand every single penny that I’ve ever donated be reimbursed.




In the dark, early days of this blog (2005, it was), I did a little quiz that was supposed to tell you what age you acted like.
Back then, I was aged 23, and the quiz put me as 23.
However, I am now 27, so I thought I’d do it again.
|
You Act Like You Are 32 Years Old |
![]() You are a thirty-something at heart. You’ve had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! You’re responsible, wise, and have enough experience to understand a lot of the world. You’re at the point in your life where you understand yourself pretty well. |
Fuck. My body has aged four years, and my mind has aged nine.
This is not a nice development.




I do so hope that everyone had a nice, peaceful and pleasant Christmas.
Failing that, I at least hope that everyone survived it, ate far too much and has managed not to stick any items of cutlery up anyone else’s nose.
In the proud tradition of this here blawg, I shall be stepping back for the next few days, because in a few minutes TLG lands, and I get to spend a whole week with her. Which pleases me.
So, I trust that you lot will be able to entertain yourselves for the next few days, and I’ll be sure to leave you some not-entertaining-at-all pre loaded posts. Because I’m just nice like that…




Apparently, caffeine works better for men than women.
A strong cup of coffee has a greater effect on men than women, research shows.
In a study on 668 healthy volunteers, an espresso pepped up men after just 10 minutes. Women also became more alert after the beverage, but less so.
Thank you, dear Lord, for making it so that I get the full force of a cup of coffee; if I left with the knowledge that I wasn’t getting as much as possible out of every delicious espresso then I don’t know what I’d do…




Just for the record, this is the fifth year in a row that I’ve used this graphic on this day…

So why change a winning formula?
Happy Christmas, folks…




If you see a fat man
Who’s jolly and cute,
Wearing a beard and a red
flannel suit,

And if he is chuckling and
laughing away,

While flying around in a
miniature sleigh,
With eight tiny reindeer to pull
him along,

Then let’s face it…

You’re P*ssed!

Merry Christmas and
a Happy 2009!

Yes, I know, it’s fucking awful. But I’m too lazy to be thinking of content just now, so this is what you get…




Stolen without regret from Adele.
Wrapping paper. But not a lot of it; I’m still on the same roll that I bought several years ago.
Artificial. Because you can just pack it back in the box for next year.
When I can be bothered. A week yesterday, if I recall correctly.
On or before the 6th of January.
Never tried it. And I’ll wager that TLG is thinking an X-Factor reference as she reads this…
The big box that a Thomas the Tank Engine set came in, back n the day. Either that or the Atari 2600ST.
Everyone, because I have no idea about presents. At all.
Myself.
I do, yes. Although I tend to call it a crib.
No, thank you.
Very few really bad ones, I can make the most of most of them…
You can’t beat The Great Escape, can you?
If Christmas is on a Wednesday or later, the week of Christmas. Otherwise, the week before.
Yes. Some boxes of chocolate have been passed on.
Lots. Lots and lots and lots.
Yes.
It’s been either me ma’s house or my uncles for ever. Can’t remember which it’ll be this year…
No, but I do know that there isn’t a Rudolph to be found in there…
Technically, there’s a cherub there.
When I get round to it.
The enforced fuss about it.
I don’t particularly have one.
The usual: turkey, ham, roasties, gravy, and maybe even some veg.
Books, DVDs, and the company of some half decent people please.


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