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...
Review: Simon Singh and Adam Kay
Simon Singh – occasional champion of chiropractors (my definition of “champion” may differ from yours) – and Adam Kay – one half of the musical comedy duo Amateur Transplants – were the guests at last night’s Skeptics In The Pub meeting in Portsmouth. Since I’ve attended all the meetings so far and attended this one too, and since there’s a high likelihood that you didn’t, and since you’d probably (I studied statistics at ‘A’ level but wasn’t very good at it) like to know a little about the meeting, Simon, and Adam, I thought I’d let you enjoy a taste of the night through the magic of letters formed into words. The Good Simon Singh was informative and amusing, treating us to the lyrical stylings of Katie Melua, a swift overview of his work history, writing in the Guardian, working at the BBC, acupuncture, homeopathy, alternative medicines in general, and libel reform, all in under an hour. He then took questions from members of the audience and handled them expertly. Adam Kay was very funny, very talented, provided us with numerous short and funny versions of songs (getting the audience – including me, I embarrassingly remember – to sing along to choruses), and provided the perfect accompaniment to the more serious tones of the earlier part of the evening. So good, in fact, was he that I felt compelled to part with money and buy merchandise from him. I’d also been drinking. Usually I’m far more reluctant to hand cash to strangers. The Bad The One Eyed Dog is fairly decent in terms of layout and decor as pubs go but it certainly wasn’t the ideal place for this talk. The space allocated for the talks was too small for the number of people who turned up. I have misanthropic leanings and large crowds of aggravating humans bother me; they particularly bother me when I ponder how few of them will probably turn up to another meeting unless there’s a big name attendee and when that happens they’ll probably crowd out whatever venue we’re in and make the experience less pleasant for those of us who turn up regularly too. I’m not saying there should be a premium-seating, priority system for regulars over those who just turn up because it’s someone famous that they want to heckle. Oh, wait, yes I am. One area where the One Eyed Dog really did whatever the opposite of excelling is was in the range of available beers. “Real Ales £2.95” said the sign behind the bar which sounded nice because real ales is what I drink and drinks for under a threer...
Portsmouth Skeptics In The Pub
At the risk of treading on the toes of Strong Island which does a sterling job of talking about and promoting local endeavours in and around Portsmouth, and at the risk of talking about and promoting local endeavours in and around Portsmouth (something really quite alien to these particular interweb shores), and at the risk of linking the upcoming royal wedding with critical thinking and pubs I thought I’d just promote a local endeavour in and around Portsmouth whilst also linking the upcoming royal wedding with critical thinking and pubs in a manner that just may hook any oddball on the net who decides to combine those subjects in a search term. Have you heard about Skeptics In The Pub? No? Oh, but you should! Even though they spell skeptics with a ‘k’. But you never talk about that. First rule of Skeptics Club and all that rot. So, Skeptics In The Pub is the name given to a regular social event at various venues in various countries on various planets in various solar systems careering through various galaxies speeding away from other various galaxies and occasionally merging with other various galaxies whilst spreading out in various universes in various multiverses in various supermultiverses in the one all-encompassing great big suede wallet of supermultiverses carried around by God in his back pocket. The purpose of the pub meetings is to discuss or listen to topics on sceptical subjects such as: religion, lol homeopathy, pmsl can Intelligent Design explain Ray Comfort? how did we not know George Michael was gay? is crystal energy the only genuine alternative to bowel surgery? is there a conspiracy to spread negative press about use of probes in alien abductions? The pub meetings take place in a pub. We’ve thought about having them take place in a cemetery in order to throw off the government agencies who monitor our activities for subversive plots against William and Kate (more on them soon) but we’re all scared of ghosts. So they take place in a pub. This means we’re able to drink which has two benefits: alcohol allows us to think more clearly (or, at least, think we’re thinking more clearly, which is half – if not three-fifths – of the battle), and alcohol also clouds brain emanations which means meetings can take place without the need for silly tinfoil hats. Let’s see the UK secret service – screw you MFI! – steal our thoughts now! I know what you’re thinking (behold my Uri Geller levels of unearthly powers!); you’re thinking: gee mister, that sounds swell as a ripe peach! Can I come along? I’m sorry but...
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