A Better World Is Possible
I'm always looking for ways to improve the world – sure, not everyone approves of my eugenics experiments and the way I recently tampered with the planet's grasses in an attempt to bioengineer flame-resistant cattle (I still firmly believe that ordering steak "well done" is one of the leading causes of unrest on Earth) – so I was immensely pleased to stumble upon a demonstration taking place in Manchester last weekend where it seemed they shared my ambitions. I tried to determine just how it was that they were planning to improve things but couldn't spot a mad-scientist-looking individual amongst the throng. Eventually, though, I did see a gentleman holding up what appeared to be step one in the group's masterplan. I stopped him. "Throw the tories out?" I asked him. "Interesting. Interesting. And then what? Robotic dictatorship? Benevolent… or otherwise?" "Huh?" I pointed at the paper he was holding. "Throw the tories out," I said, reading it out loud for him but adding a definite article as I felt it was missing one. "No population pacification through cloud-seeding flights? No regional competitions to win liberty points? Womb-based citizen training?" "Yeah, throw the tories out," he agreed with a puzzled look. "Is that it?" I asked. "It's a start," he replied, flashing me a nasty smile. I pondered his response for a second. "But then they'll be unemployed," I said. "That hardly seems like a better world at all. Who will fill the important niche role of a self-serving group of the barely tolerable heaping misery on the masses with scant regard for anyone else?" "That's where the trade unions come in," he said. I let him carry on with his march then and shook my head sadly. Their plan needed a new banner; one that read A World Very Much Like This One Is Likely might do the job. And lasers. A really good plan needs lasers. Google+: View post on...
A Visit To Bletchley Park
Last weekend we decided to head off up north (or “oop north” if you’re an inhabitant of the wildlands beyond Hampshire) to take in our annual Super League game in Yorkshire. Travelling up north involves driving in the car and it’s far enough away to warrant a stop en route so – with a printout of a map of England (other countries are available), two compasses, and a ruler – I used an old trick from my days studying Engineering Drawing (before it became Technical Drawing (before it became Graphic Communication for my exam (which I got a B in, thank you very much))) and drew a perpendicular line exactly halfway between Portsmouth and Wakefield to identify the ideal place to halt, have a stretch of the legs, and possibly take in some sight of interest. I quickly realised this was only of any use if the roads between the two destinations were absolutely straight and, since they’re not, reverted to Plan B of closing my eyes, plonking my finger down somewhere between London and the Midlands, and hoping for the best. Plonk! My index finger landed on Milton Keynes and a shudder rippled down the length of my spine. First time’s just a test, I told myself silently, and prepared to pick again when I spotted the word Bletchley nearby. In the back of my mind there was a whirr of dials and cogs and a memory made itself known: Bletchley Park. Codebreakers. World War 2. Alan Turing. Enigma. A quick search confirmed that Bletchley Park was indeed in Bletchley (cf. Leeds Castle) and we had our mid-travel pit stop arranged! Your first experience of the secretive nature surrounding Bletchley Park comes in trying to find the place. Up the A5 we did travel until we saw a brown sign directing us towards our destination. We followed it and then saw another sign. We followed that one and then hit a roundabout where there was no indication where to go so picked an exit at random. A few minutes later with no signs at all we turned around and headed back. We saw a new sign and followed that until we reached another junction with no obvious indication where to go. About to pick a route at random again I just spotted at ground level, half-covered up by grass a small sign with an arrow pointing the opposite way. Nice try, Bletchley Park, but we finally found you! Bletchley Park itself was not what we were expecting. But I don’t really know what we were expecting. Probably best I just describe it. Huts and buildings, a mansion, a...
Fashion Faves – Nika Lauraitis
Via Fashion Gone Rogue is this single photo from a shoot of Nika Lauraitis by Zoltan Tombor for Grazia Italia. There’s not a lot to say about this shot that shouldn’t be obvious from the photo itself; it’s a lovely outfit and shoes too, of course, but it’s the attention to detail in matching the colours with the brightly-coloured road markings that helps this stand out. The lipstick even matches the purse; very clever design for...
Queue
"Is this the queue for Iron Man 3?" "I… Sorry? What?" "Iron Man 3. Robert Downey Jr reprising his role as Tony Stark in a mechanical suit. Sequel to Iron Man and its follow-up, Iron Man 2. Iron Man 3." "You're joking, right?" "About what?" "About this being the queue for Iron Man 3." "No. Why?" "A queue by the side of the road?" "Yes." "A couple of benches and us lot sitting here in the sun?" "It's not that unusual." "I think you'll find it is." "I was only asking." "What's going on George?" "This lady here wanted to know if this was the queue for Iron Man 3." "For what?" "Iron Man 3. With Roger…" "Robert!" "…Robert, yes, Robert Downey Jr." "Never heard of it." "Apparently it's a sequel." "Ooh! Did you tell her no?" "Yes, Edna, I did tell her no. I told you no, didn't I?" "Yes you did. Well, thank you for your time anyway." "That's okay. Iron Man 3. How odd." "Is she leaving?" "Yes Edna." "Didn't she want to see Star Trek Into Darkness then?" "I forgot to ask." Google+: View post on...
Ancient Aliens Drinking Game
I’ve had the pleasure of catching some of Ancient Aliens on the Military History channel (because where else other than a channel allegedly devoted to historical matters of relevance to the military would you expect to see a programme attributing every polished pebble and cave marking to an intergalactic civilisation?) and, yes, it’s been as ludicrous and hilarious as I suspected. Still, as much as I’ve laughed at it a thought did cross my mind: would it be possible to make Ancient Aliens even more enjoyable? And the answer, of course, is alcohol. For every sentence that starts with the word “could” to which the answer is “no” (could an alien civilisation have built this series of tunnels in Peru?): take a shot. For every sentence that starts with the phrase “is it possible” to which the answer is “no” (is it possible that these strange markings in Brazil are the same as these similar markings in Egypt?): take a shot. Every time Giorgio A. Tsoukalos appears on screen: take a shot. Every time Erich von Daniken is mentioned (but author of “Chariots of the Gods” Erich von Daniken has another, more sinister interpretation): take a shot. Every time there’s a pause after “someone” before “or something” is added (are these tunnels natural or were they fashioned by someone… or something?): take a shot. Every time some piece of historical evidence of aliens “mysteriously disappeared” (but shortly after his death the evidence he had been collecting mysteriously disappeared): take a shot. Every time two possible answers are given to a question and neither are true (are angels really winged visitors from Heaven or could they be aliens?): take a shot. Every time you hear that “the answer is clear” or some preposterous answer is preceded by the word “clearly” and you’re still puzzled or busy laughing: take a shot. Every time some actual science is used to dismiss one conclusion and then leap to the alternative of “aliens”, disregarding all the many other plausible options: down a pint in...
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