America
Okay, so I've been back from America for a few days now and I've only barely scratched the surface of going through the photos taken. Jet lag and general catching up with life are combining to make this a long-winded process but I thought it might be nice to make it clear that the TSA didn't detain me, I didn't suffer a fatal reaction to Black Friday-related pepper-spraying, and the lure of life as an illegal alien in the land of big cars, big distances, and big fascination with texting people while driving (seriously, everyone did that; stop it!) wasn't overpowering enough to prevent me leaving. But I'm looking forward to heading back next year. You've got a pretty nice country over there. Google+: View post on...
In The Pub With Jim Al-Khalili
On Thursday the 8th of September I had the pleasure of being in the pub to watch a talk given by science guru Professor Jim Al-Khalili. This was supposed to be a talk on his areas of expertise and my areas of interest – black holes, wormholes, and time travel – but the evening turned out to be odder than any of those who attended could have expected. Well over one hundred people were crammed into the room at the Globe Inn, many of whom were drinking, and all of whom were perspiring. The heat and the humidity was fierce and hindsight says this may have contributed to the events that would unfurl. On the other hand, maybe Jim’s always a bit strange. Strange like a quark! That’s a physics joke there for you. Jim sat at the front of the room wearing what he told us was his lucky brown jacket. There was an attempt to ask him what was so lucky about it by Ian, one of the organisers of the Portsmouth Skeptics in the Pub cult, but this was met with disapproval by the professor and Ian’s eyes were glued shut as punishment. This set an uneasy tone for the evening as you can imagine. The talk began shortly thereafter and our expectation of some interesting physics was dashed immediately as Jim launched into the act that first shot him to fame in Yorkshire, the famous Ghost Vet sketch. For those of you who never got to watch the Ghost Vet sketch before it was banned by the U.N. and removed from YouTube the gist of the story is that Jim, a vet to the spirit world, is asked to inseminate a dead cow. With hilarious consequences! And horrible, horrible, gratuitous racism. The sketch received a polite and fearful ripple of applause from that half of the crowd who weren’t nauseous by the end of it. Jim then promised to get on with the actual talk so long as the contractual sacrifice met with his approval. A drunkard was dragged in from the alley behind the pub and ritually shaved to resemble the professor as closely as possible. The execution was swift and the bemused, swaying drunkard probably didn’t feel the sharpened spatula strike that took his life but the quantity of blood that gushed out over the pub floor was a little too much for a couple of elderly gentlemen who burst into tears and fled from the room. This, fortunately, freed up some space for a small group of Jim’s devoted female acolytes to enter and seat themselves in the hot, red liquid. We...
Justifiable Homicide
“Would you like a cup of tea?” “No.” “Okay, well then… why don’t you start? Take us back to that morning.” “We went for a walk.” “Your wife and you?” “Yes.” “Just the two of you?” “Yes.” “Carry on.” “I picked up my camera bag and we left the house. We went for a walk. I photographed a few things.” “What sort of things?” “Anything. I photograph anything interesting. Buildings, people, views, rubbish, anything.” “Carry on.” “We got near the pub – the Rose – and she told me to put the camera away.” “This camera?” “Yes.” “Tell me about it. I don’t know much about them.” “Digital SLR. Canon. Telephoto lens. I’m not sure what you want to know.” “That’s fine. So, you got to the pub and put your camera away?” “No. I don’t put my camera away. I might see something interesting.” “So you argued?” “No. Not really. We went in a had a drink and I didn’t put the camera away. I didn’t spill anything on the camera. I don’t know what her problem was.” “Indeed. Did anything else happen there?” “No. We left after the drink and carried on with the walk. Then we noticed the clouds coming in and we decided we should probably make for another pub.” “People after my own heart. Did anything happen here?” “She told me to put the camera away when the first spots of rain came down.” “Sensible.” “No, the camera is water-resistant. A few spots won’t hurt it.” “So you didn’t put the camera away?” “No. Rain can be good to photograph.” “And when you got to the second pub?” “I kept the camera out there too. We were indoors then. And there were some interesting people in the pub.” “Did you photograph them?” “No, but I could have.” “And how did your wife feel about this?” “She was irritated, but she always is.” “Irritated enough to fight?” “No, we didn’t fight. We left the pub and saw an old woman fall over in the street so I photographed her. My wife was not pleased. She said we should have helped but it was on the other side of the road and there were other people nearer. Here, here’s the photo I took.” “Ouch! Face in the turd!” “I know. Classic. Anyway, it would have been difficult to get across the road as there was a funeral procession driving slowly through just about then.” “And you… photographed it?” “Yes. The reflections in the rain puddles of the cars and their flowers was too good to miss.” “I’ll bet your wife didn’t think the same thing.” “She...
Doctor Maniac’s Meeting
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming today. Such a prestigious group of the world’s greatest criminal masterminds the world has truly never seen, nor shall it ever with our skill at evading the law. Most of you are probably wondering why I’ve asked you all to this meeting and why I’ve insisted on such secrecy and I… the chair recognises Wan Tring of the Hong Kong triads.” “Thank you Doctor Maniac. I am Wan Tring. Most here are not Wan Tring.” “Right. Wondering. Won-der-ing. Not Wan Tring. Can I continue? Thank you. I have asked you to this… the chair recognises El Diablo.” “Is this one of those meetings where you kill anyone who dissents with you?” “No! No! Where do you get these ideas?” “I steal movies. I watch movies. Do these chairs slide down into a pit of spikes and fire?” “What pit? This is clearly a laminated floor and we’re on the third storey of this building. You came past the floor below on the way here. You had the tour. Do you remember the office staff? The pretty secretary with the big you-know-whats? People, please! Can I get to the point of this meeting? Oh, for fu… the chair recognises Minister Montezuma.” “I have a dentist’s appointment at three. Will this meeting take long?” “Let’s… start again. And please: no interruptions. Oh… Minister Montezuma, again?” “It’s just that it’s about an hour’s drive and I need to get there early to fill in some paperwork. I would really like to leave by one thirty.” “You can leave at one thirty. That’s not a problem. Gentlemen, I’ve…” “I will leave at the same time as the Minister. Unless the Minister doesn’t want that!” “El Diablo, why would the…” “My friend El Diablo, you may do whatever you please.” “What’s going on with you two?” “There’s nothing going on but let’s just say that I think we should all leave together or not at all.” “Is this something from one of your movies again?” “We have seen this movie in Hong Kong too. Wan Tring Enterprises has imported many copies. Good film. Robert Vaughn.” “I wish you would take this meeting seriously.” “You’re thinking of The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” “Can we please stop talking about films?” “Many apologies. Perhaps it is a common theme.” “Really, please, please can we get back on track here? I’ve only booked the Death Room until four.” “Aha! You are trying to kill us Maniac!” “I am not! It’s named after the architect, Francis Death. He’s responsible for the unique lintels you see over there and the rosewood panelling designs. You people are…...
Another Total TV Guide Letter
You may (or may not) remember that I’ve explored the letters page of Total TV Guide magazine (my preferred weekly guide to the days where I can complain that there’s nothing on television) before on this hallowed ground (disclaimer: neonbubble.com has never been consecrated) here: Total TV Guide Letters. Since that time the letters to the editor have been rather disappointingly normal and my reputation for shouting in checkout queues has diminished to the point of legend. Nevertheless, there was one letter this week that I felt I ought to address. Dear Martin Blackburn of West Yorkshire, Everyone likes Professor Brian Cox. Everyone. Even, I suspect, your wife, which is probably the catalyst for your decision to write in to a television listings magazine. Is he on her Five Famous People list? Don’t pretend you don’t know what the list is; you know. It’s okay Martin, you can tell us. Brian’s on everyone‘s Five Famous People lists. Your wife, his wife, my wife, me, you, everyone. You’re thinking: how can he be on everyone’s Five Famous People lists at the same time? It’s called “spooky action at a distance” and if it’s too difficult to understand then try writing into the BBC and we’ll see if they can’t conjure up a one-off programme on BBC2 to explain it for you hosted by, oooh, I don’t know, maybe, oooh, a charming northern professor of physics perhaps. Now, you don’t seem to like that he’s on TV on a lot of seemingly disparate programmes with no connection. But Martin… you like all these programmes too. There is a connection. Don’t you see that you and Brian share a bond of interests? You’re seeing him as a rival but you should be seeing him as a kindred spirit. You like music, he likes music. You like baked trout, he likes baked trout. That’s two of you that like baked trout. And if you let your wife have her way then your connection is strengthened that much more again. You say you don’t like his floppy hair and soppy voice. Well Martin, you’re from West Yorkshire and I know you’ve added that line in to sound manly like a man’s man from Yorkshire should sound. But you’re also writing letters to Total TV Guide. Your reputation is shredded. Give it up Martin. Release. Don’t hate Professor Brian Cox Martin, and don’t hate your wife for picking someone she gets to watch on TV a lot. You had your chance too. It’s nobody’s fault that Thora Hird died. Get over it. P.S. His teeth aren’t polished; years of working near a particle accelerator have...
Being Polite
I still haven’t given up on my dream of becoming an hilarious web-based comic strip writer! Behold! The Cyclops Toast and Jonathan Livingston Flashunit in “Being Polite!” Okay, now I’ve given up on my dream of becoming an hilarious web-based comic strip...
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