Source: The Daily Mirror.
A boy rode a bicycle across lake Buttermere, which is 75' deep, watched by a crowd. Matt Whitehurst, 16, said "I can't and won't reveal how I did it but plenty of people saw me".
He did it to raise awareness and money for flood victims in November, 2009. His Dad helped save lives as a member of Cockermouth Rescue Team.
So you think you can
walk on water? No but I
can cycle on it.
Women may not need
men but fish could probably
use this bicycle.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Detective wanted to detect detective. 18.07.2011
Source The Daily Mirror: 18.07.2011
A 63 year old man, not named but understood to be a private investigator, was arrested on 8th July at a residential address. He was bailed on suspicion of corruption.
Unidentified
man might be suspected of
possible corruption.
Detective wanted
to detect possible fraud
by a detective.
A 63 year old man, not named but understood to be a private investigator, was arrested on 8th July at a residential address. He was bailed on suspicion of corruption.
Unidentified
man might be suspected of
possible corruption.
Detective wanted
to detect possible fraud
by a detective.
Aircraft carrier burden 07.07.2011
Source: The Times.
It would cost more to cancel than to build two new 6 billion pound aircraft carriers, say the MOD.
The National Audit Office estimate that 1billion would be saved by building the carriers, even though the cost will 'significantly exceed 10billion.'
Which is a bit like saying that we have to have a nuclear war because we bothered to built nuclear warheads, or that you should spend money on a prenup if you are thinking of getting a divorce.
Floating plans add cost
burden to MOD's two
gross aircraft carriers.
It would cost more to cancel than to build two new 6 billion pound aircraft carriers, say the MOD.
The National Audit Office estimate that 1billion would be saved by building the carriers, even though the cost will 'significantly exceed 10billion.'
Which is a bit like saying that we have to have a nuclear war because we bothered to built nuclear warheads, or that you should spend money on a prenup if you are thinking of getting a divorce.
Floating plans add cost
burden to MOD's two
gross aircraft carriers.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Introduction to Not being Funny..so what's it all about?
'Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody's face but their own; which is the chief reason for that kind of reception it meets in the world, and that so very few are offended with it.'
So said Jonathan Swift in the preface to his Battle of the Books, written in 1704.
Jonathan Swift claimed to have only laughed twice in his life. Alexander Pope couldn't remember ever having laughed at all, according to Craig Brown, a Twenty First Century satirist and poet.
Comedy, irony, pathos, schadenfreude and satire are the cream on a delectable trifle of human folly, hypocrisy, evil , injustice, moral failure and ignorance. The more insupportable, the more lurid the trifle, the more there is to satirise, the more custard pies there are to be thrown, the more there is to vindicate, the more hilarity is to be had.
Comedy lies next to tragedy and therefore it will not be too long before poetry claims it or entertains it. The excruciating is reminiscent of the hilarious.
There has always been a huge appetite for comedy and it sometimes seems to me nowhere more so than in the UK. Britain in the Twentieth and Twenty First Centuries has been particularly rich in comic writing which may have something to do with its more recent history, the half-hearted struggle for identity which it has all but given up, like integrity, intelligent discussion, and exercise.. and its strange and strained culture of tolerance, the place where people will queue for hours for the latest Iphone but for the most part can't be bothered to stand up to fight a cause unless its effects come lapping into their dining rooms like the Cumbrian floods.
The world of newspaper journalism, where all that goes on in the world is churned in a vat of speculation, comment, where spies are spied upon and commentators are commented on is a fertile breeding ground for comic writing . This year, the excesses of journalism finally broke through a dam. The engine room has been exposed, the business is in in turmoil as never before since the machinery that operates its scurrilous and scandalous practices has broken down, oozing spent oil.
Comedy is squashed up against tragedy, inhabiting the same screamingly awful place. The edge of a comic sword is dipped in tragedy. At its most daring, it's intoxicating. We laugh with its subjects rather than at them as we recognise our own failings. The laugh is a nervous laugh, the roar is a guilty roar, the tears of laughter are shed from the eye of conscience. Comedy is a kind of inverted tragedy. It is everywhere in our daily lives, from the grinding together of circumstances to the inflections of speech and behaviour. Some would say that it reaches its finest expression in the written and spoken word, in drama, verse, in dialogue, in poetry, in stand-up, whether in the ridiculous or the deadly serious, whether in the work of Horace, Juvenal, Alexander Pope, Jonathan Swift, Mark Twain, Edward Lear or Craig Brown. Whether in the work of The Fast Show, Barry Humphries, Alistair McGowan, Rory Bremner or Tommy Cooper, in the gentle cuffing of Roger McGough and the trenchant wit of Bill Geenwell or else in the dark and searing ad-libs of Peter Cook or Bill Hicks, engaging comedy is daring. It is intoxicating.
So this is my small contribution...
So said Jonathan Swift in the preface to his Battle of the Books, written in 1704.
Jonathan Swift claimed to have only laughed twice in his life. Alexander Pope couldn't remember ever having laughed at all, according to Craig Brown, a Twenty First Century satirist and poet.
Comedy, irony, pathos, schadenfreude and satire are the cream on a delectable trifle of human folly, hypocrisy, evil , injustice, moral failure and ignorance. The more insupportable, the more lurid the trifle, the more there is to satirise, the more custard pies there are to be thrown, the more there is to vindicate, the more hilarity is to be had.
Comedy lies next to tragedy and therefore it will not be too long before poetry claims it or entertains it. The excruciating is reminiscent of the hilarious.
There has always been a huge appetite for comedy and it sometimes seems to me nowhere more so than in the UK. Britain in the Twentieth and Twenty First Centuries has been particularly rich in comic writing which may have something to do with its more recent history, the half-hearted struggle for identity which it has all but given up, like integrity, intelligent discussion, and exercise.. and its strange and strained culture of tolerance, the place where people will queue for hours for the latest Iphone but for the most part can't be bothered to stand up to fight a cause unless its effects come lapping into their dining rooms like the Cumbrian floods.
The world of newspaper journalism, where all that goes on in the world is churned in a vat of speculation, comment, where spies are spied upon and commentators are commented on is a fertile breeding ground for comic writing . This year, the excesses of journalism finally broke through a dam. The engine room has been exposed, the business is in in turmoil as never before since the machinery that operates its scurrilous and scandalous practices has broken down, oozing spent oil.
Comedy is squashed up against tragedy, inhabiting the same screamingly awful place. The edge of a comic sword is dipped in tragedy. At its most daring, it's intoxicating. We laugh with its subjects rather than at them as we recognise our own failings. The laugh is a nervous laugh, the roar is a guilty roar, the tears of laughter are shed from the eye of conscience. Comedy is a kind of inverted tragedy. It is everywhere in our daily lives, from the grinding together of circumstances to the inflections of speech and behaviour. Some would say that it reaches its finest expression in the written and spoken word, in drama, verse, in dialogue, in poetry, in stand-up, whether in the ridiculous or the deadly serious, whether in the work of Horace, Juvenal, Alexander Pope, Jonathan Swift, Mark Twain, Edward Lear or Craig Brown. Whether in the work of The Fast Show, Barry Humphries, Alistair McGowan, Rory Bremner or Tommy Cooper, in the gentle cuffing of Roger McGough and the trenchant wit of Bill Geenwell or else in the dark and searing ad-libs of Peter Cook or Bill Hicks, engaging comedy is daring. It is intoxicating.
So this is my small contribution...
Chick lit not so chic 27.09.2011.
Source: The I.. a pocket version of The Independent
A report out today says that sales of 'chick lit' are down 20% on last year's equivalent sales terms figures.
Even if Chick Lit's
shortened to Clit, it still
won't sell very much.
A report out today says that sales of 'chick lit' are down 20% on last year's equivalent sales terms figures.
Even if Chick Lit's
shortened to Clit, it still
won't sell very much.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Quartet plays new tune 23.09.2011.
Source: Maan News Agency 22.09.2011.
Although today should have been an historic day for the whole world , although 180 countries and States supported Palestine's bid for UN Statehood, due to be voted on today after being put off twice, the Quartet -- the US, UN, EU, and Russia -- is said to be deliberating on a new framework for a renewal of bilateral negotiations between the PLO and Israel following a veto by Barack Obama on Wednesday.
The Quartet may seek to restart negotiations in the time between Mahmoud Abbas' speech tomorrow and a decision from the Security Council, which could be weeks or even months away.
Quartet plays new tune
with wind section and strings too-
orchestrates failed bid.
Although today should have been an historic day for the whole world , although 180 countries and States supported Palestine's bid for UN Statehood, due to be voted on today after being put off twice, the Quartet -- the US, UN, EU, and Russia -- is said to be deliberating on a new framework for a renewal of bilateral negotiations between the PLO and Israel following a veto by Barack Obama on Wednesday.
The Quartet may seek to restart negotiations in the time between Mahmoud Abbas' speech tomorrow and a decision from the Security Council, which could be weeks or even months away.
Quartet plays new tune
with wind section and strings too-
orchestrates failed bid.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Call of Duty 17.09.2011.
Source: Metro.
A major release such as last week's 'Call of Duty: Black Ops' has a torture sequence and hundreds of on-screen deaths. It incorporates the 'pleasure' of shooting virtual bad guys.
In America, the law according to the First Amendment makes banning the sale of violent computer games to under 18-s illegal as to do so would interfere with their 'freedom of speech'.
It's well-known that the military sends out free computer games to recruit gamers for technical roles. The U.S. Army commissioned game titles such as 'Full Spectrum Warrior' and 'America's Army' specifically as recruiting tools.
Former SAS operative Chris Ryan told the Metro;
'These kids are being recruited by the US government to fly drones. In recent months, all the big hits in Afghanistan are coming from drones controlled from a couple of places in America-one near McDill Air Force Base in Florida and also an underground bunker in Nevada.
So you've guys like me on the ground relying on some kid with a joystick.'
US kids blow up
Taleban; you couldn't make
it up. No, I didn't.
A major release such as last week's 'Call of Duty: Black Ops' has a torture sequence and hundreds of on-screen deaths. It incorporates the 'pleasure' of shooting virtual bad guys.
In America, the law according to the First Amendment makes banning the sale of violent computer games to under 18-s illegal as to do so would interfere with their 'freedom of speech'.
It's well-known that the military sends out free computer games to recruit gamers for technical roles. The U.S. Army commissioned game titles such as 'Full Spectrum Warrior' and 'America's Army' specifically as recruiting tools.
Former SAS operative Chris Ryan told the Metro;
'These kids are being recruited by the US government to fly drones. In recent months, all the big hits in Afghanistan are coming from drones controlled from a couple of places in America-one near McDill Air Force Base in Florida and also an underground bunker in Nevada.
So you've guys like me on the ground relying on some kid with a joystick.'
US kids blow up
Taleban; you couldn't make
it up. No, I didn't.
Birkenhead Central Library 13.08.2011.
In 1966, after school
we leaned against
your railings,
waited for the F19.
Behind us, you were
a pale grey monolith,
stilled by wisdom.
You were always there
just in case, like the
safety of home.
You would have welcomed us
but we thought we were
still exploring other worlds.
Forty five years later
you are still the
pale grey monolith.
You still welcome us,
offer your wisdom.
Now we lean our bikes
against the railings
(are they really the same)
disappear into the
limestone world
for whole afternoons,
into cool chamber and census
to look for our father's
home.
we leaned against
your railings,
waited for the F19.
Behind us, you were
a pale grey monolith,
stilled by wisdom.
You were always there
just in case, like the
safety of home.
You would have welcomed us
but we thought we were
still exploring other worlds.
Forty five years later
you are still the
pale grey monolith.
You still welcome us,
offer your wisdom.
Now we lean our bikes
against the railings
(are they really the same)
disappear into the
limestone world
for whole afternoons,
into cool chamber and census
to look for our father's
home.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Here's to TJ Hughes ...nine haiku 20.08.2011.
So here's to TJHughes......nine Haiku in honour of TJ Hughes, which went into administration and did not quite make its 100th birthday, after decades of looking after its customers.
No more shoe bargains,
amazing handbags, Triumph
bras or five tog quilts.
No more basement queens
faffing about to find you
the flight case you want.
No more pyramids
of Werther's originals
or shopping trolleys.
No more Ferrero
Rocher or pound Toblerone
bars at the checkout.
No more queues at the
bedding counter to pay for
thermal vests, duvets.
No more sales counter
happy girls refunding, no
esalator hope.
No more washed-out meat
and two-veg posters that
you noticed looked rude.
No more carpetted
restaurant, extra water
jug, joke at the till.
No more sitting on
the low wall, taking the weight
off, eating pasties.
No more black cabs to
take you to Anfield and
Mam to Scotty Road.
No more shoe bargains,
amazing handbags, Triumph
bras or five tog quilts.
No more basement queens
faffing about to find you
the flight case you want.
No more pyramids
of Werther's originals
or shopping trolleys.
No more Ferrero
Rocher or pound Toblerone
bars at the checkout.
No more queues at the
bedding counter to pay for
thermal vests, duvets.
No more sales counter
happy girls refunding, no
esalator hope.
No more washed-out meat
and two-veg posters that
you noticed looked rude.
No more carpetted
restaurant, extra water
jug, joke at the till.
No more sitting on
the low wall, taking the weight
off, eating pasties.
No more black cabs to
take you to Anfield and
Mam to Scotty Road.
Monday, September 12, 2011
A child at Heswall library 12.08. 2011
Certainty was Heswall Library, with its rows of shoulder-high books that had mysterious names and illustrations. Pulling good ones out and taking them home was part of that certainty. You took Ginger, Black Beauty and Merrylegs home to pity, became their saviour; kept them, kept the book by your side.
You found the moon as green cheese and the exoticism of Tove Jansson's Moomintroll, nosed out the plastic jackets, heard the rubber-stamp thud on the wooden counter high above and peered bashfully at the librarian; you found something that was part of yourself.
You found the moon as green cheese and the exoticism of Tove Jansson's Moomintroll, nosed out the plastic jackets, heard the rubber-stamp thud on the wooden counter high above and peered bashfully at the librarian; you found something that was part of yourself.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Happiness survey 26.07.2011
Source: The Guardian.
The O.N.S. asked 200,000 people how happy they were. The consultation asked things like 'How satisfied are you with your life?', 'How happy did you feel yesterday?' 'How anxious did you feel yesterday?' and 'To what extent do you feel the things you do in your life are worthwhile?'
The Integrated Household Survey will be used to shape social policy on the basis of 'social cost benefit analysis'.
'I was happier
before I had to answer
this bloody survey.'
The O.N.S. asked 200,000 people how happy they were. The consultation asked things like 'How satisfied are you with your life?', 'How happy did you feel yesterday?' 'How anxious did you feel yesterday?' and 'To what extent do you feel the things you do in your life are worthwhile?'
The Integrated Household Survey will be used to shape social policy on the basis of 'social cost benefit analysis'.
'I was happier
before I had to answer
this bloody survey.'
DSK case continues. 26.07.2011
Source: The Guardian.
Nafisattou Diallo, the Guinean single mother who on the 16th May, 2011 was allegedly assaulted by Dominic Strauss Kahn in his motel room in New York has gone public with her case.
The case had been 'damaged' when it was revealed that she had had a relationship with Amara Tarawally, a convicted drug dealer who used her bank account to deposit large sums of money.
Dirty drug dealer's
deposit 'damages' Diallo's
dark DSK case
Nafisattou Diallo, the Guinean single mother who on the 16th May, 2011 was allegedly assaulted by Dominic Strauss Kahn in his motel room in New York has gone public with her case.
The case had been 'damaged' when it was revealed that she had had a relationship with Amara Tarawally, a convicted drug dealer who used her bank account to deposit large sums of money.
Dirty drug dealer's
deposit 'damages' Diallo's
dark DSK case
Topsy turvy Oz law x 2 haiku 21.07.2011
Source: The Times.
A former Guantanamo bay detainee was told by the Australian Government yesterday that it may seize any profits from his autobiography.
David Hicks was a prisoner for more than five years before a plea bargain allowed him back to the USA to serve out a nine month sentence.
Under Australian law, a person can't profit from the commercial exploitation of their criminal notoriety.
You can't profit from
fame back in Oz unless your
name is R. Murdoch.
Sentences may add
to sentence if you've been sent
down in Down Under.
A former Guantanamo bay detainee was told by the Australian Government yesterday that it may seize any profits from his autobiography.
David Hicks was a prisoner for more than five years before a plea bargain allowed him back to the USA to serve out a nine month sentence.
Under Australian law, a person can't profit from the commercial exploitation of their criminal notoriety.
You can't profit from
fame back in Oz unless your
name is R. Murdoch.
Sentences may add
to sentence if you've been sent
down in Down Under.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Emperor, his son and their old clothes. 22.07.2011.
Source: The Independent
Notes on the Select Committee hearing in which James and Rupert Murdoch were questioned for a couple of wasted hours by a collection of, on the whole, rather supine investigative M.P.s.
Although there was palpable anger in the room, it seemed to melt away before the professed Emperors of Pulp, like the sigh of a spent wind.
A respectable amount of handwringing and bluster to keep at bay the quiet seething of the Committee was meted out by the Murdochs, Junior and Senior, both cut from the same diamond and having arrived fresh from a training programme on how to deal with the questions they were going to be asked. In the end, when the magic hours allowed by English parliamentary law had been filled by dark posturing and circuitousness, it was as though the two men had merely been slapped with a couple of wet fish.
In fact, the hearing was a chance for the Murdochs to do a bit of grandstanding; to cast some sneering remarks before the Great British Public( (those who were interested enough to watch online). Talking about what for any of us would be an astronomical sum of money paid out for any reason, James Murdoch, the scion of the elder, gnarled-but-got-all-his-marbles old man tossed a vague recollection of hush-money to the waiting committee 'I don't recall exactly how much'. This was code for 'we deal in billions. Talking about a few million is, frankly, beneath our contempt'.
The News of The Screws was dangled every now and then by the King Lear-like figure of Ruper Murdoch to focus the contempt in the room, finally being offered up as a sacrificial lamb, though not without the petulance of a rich man losing one of his smaller yachts...Murdoch Senior was eager to point out the loss of the 250,000 readers. Numbers mattered,particularly at this juncture in the sense that they could be deployed to denote loss or else pre-eminence.
Throughout the long session (this was no shareholder meeting and was doubtless prepared for by a 4a.m bowl of porridge and a gym workout by Senior) oldness was wheeled out as required, though not, you understand, the kind of oldness that signified loss of power or decrepitude, rather the oldness of a lion with a thorn in its paw.
The Old Pretender did resort to using old age as victimhood on occasion to buy him some thinking time as money clearly could not plug the gap at such moments. He appeared not to hear the questions asked but then belied his hearing loss with barbed answers after the sage-like pauses.
The father/son angle was fully exploited with Senior and Junior holding their position in dock, and by touches on the arm across the pillories. Senior bowed his head most of the time (apparently in contrition or fatigue but in reality with the concentration of a bull preparing for the next charge).
Their suits had been carefully chosen, even though they were the Emperor's old clothes. Both wore sky-blue ties (to denote innocence) and pleasing, pacific, dark-blue pastel shades, one slightly darker than the other, you see, to signify that they were not in league,or partners in grime but merely relatives. Senior's suit had a faint pinstripe running through it to suggest- well, seniority (and legalese, of course). The pre-Committee training session had clearly instructed them both to place one hand on top of the other. The gesture, according to a body language expert implies helpfulness, openness and also prevents hands from gesticulating wildly and giving too much away.
I also detected a dose of defensiveness in the gesture. James Murdoch's robotic, repetitive answers were betrayed on occasion by the high colouring that broke through the Meditteranean tan borne of too much holidaying and by the rapid blinking of Senior's hooded eyes.
Their verbal suits, however did not have quite the same acuity, although the old father/son schtick came to the rescue. There was Senior's summarising with his down-to-earth thumping, cutting and pushing , the salami-slicing of the table with the hams of his age-spotted hands which said 'I am a man who knows the relative value of things-and by the way, I can still cut the mustard.'
The plastic signage in front of their corporate persons, one saying 'James Murdoch' and the other saying 'Rupert Murdoch' made them look like two naughty public schoolboys (albeit of an Antipodean hue). The obedient crowd behind them seemed to come to their aid rather than holding them back, their heads moving like sunflowers according to the position of the Sun and Son.
At times, Junior was seen to stumble verbally, often parrying with words and exhibiting the signs of having just emerged from the prepping session blinking into the light. Phrases like 'I'm glad you asked me that', 'with reference to the specifics of your question' or 'that's a very good question' allowed him some false contrition and wriggle-room. 'I' was used interchangeably with 'we' and 'we' was used interchangeably with 'News International or 'The Corporation' and demonstrated the fluency of power. Nevertheless, the Son blurtingly ended up repeating himself all the way to the end of the two-hour session. The continuous use of the words 'active' 'proactive', 'actually', 'specifically' 'currently' and his way of denial, as in 'we don't have access to that information' or 'it would be wrong to make a statement while there is a legal process ongoing currently with regard to that particular issue' made him look like a snake thrashing in a pit. Sometimes his language was worthy of Dick Cheney. 'This was re-looked at' he offered 'along with the re-started criminal investigation.' And 'to my knowledge, it was not known about' was another Cheneyism..
Senior's use of long silences not only bought him time but seemed to add a bizarre gravitas to his duplicity, as well as allowing him to find 'le mot juste' in between bouts of bellicosity and a withering, sickly humour which issued from between his teeth like sawdust from between the teeth of the kind of circular saws one finds in a sawmill.
It must have been hard to find the necessary level of penitence or grimness, though, as neither the puppy or the old dog had ever been grilled before.
There was a side effect of the courtroom drama that was much more satisfying than the salacious revelations of the redtopped, bloodsoaked Empire; the distinctly British restraint of the Committee did serve to point up the crassness of the Murdoch show and its disdain for the rule of law. It wasn't, after all, the highest court of the land and a jail sentence was not pending. But it was great to see the Committee members make play with the ancient art of sarcasm, whipping these newsmasters, these hounds with the spoken word, with language; the delicious ironies of men who make their money out of 'telling it like it is' having to tell it like it wasn't had not escaped some of the Committee who wryly clasped their faces with their hands and twisted in their seats. You hoped that they would descend like piranhas onto meat that was dead in the water, though sadly, this did not happen.
The pie incident did happen, though one began to wonder if it had been staged by the Murdochs themselves. The whole thing, except for the pie incident, was not unlike a Bird and Fortune sketch. Each man dug himself into a dirty hole with a set of rather expensive spades and a tiny push from the mild-mannered Committee.
Old Murdoch rolled his head occasionally in a turtle-like fashion to denote derision. His hand-chopping of the table spoke of a vice-like grip, a waning virility and the mutual exclusion between power and delegation.
Like water seeping between cracks, the lies, the blackmail, the manipulation and all the excrescences of power and the pursuit of money had led to a drip becoming a stream and the stream becoming a current throughout the whole phone-hacking phase of the public enquiry. It had led to the spectacle of the world's most powerful media emperors being brought before a lowly court. These excrescences were the very opposite of the thing that Rupert Murdoch popped up from time to time during the Hearing to lecture about. 'Transparency' he had opined 'is one of the things that makes us a more open society, that's one of the great things about this country' (not to mention tax-breaks for residents living abroad).
I am reporting all this straight, of course, but what the hell... decorum and journalistic ethics and standards has clearly gone straight out of the window and punched the wall to smithereens, and anyway, what use is a verbatim report of the biggest farce of them all.
Notes on the Select Committee hearing in which James and Rupert Murdoch were questioned for a couple of wasted hours by a collection of, on the whole, rather supine investigative M.P.s.
Although there was palpable anger in the room, it seemed to melt away before the professed Emperors of Pulp, like the sigh of a spent wind.
A respectable amount of handwringing and bluster to keep at bay the quiet seething of the Committee was meted out by the Murdochs, Junior and Senior, both cut from the same diamond and having arrived fresh from a training programme on how to deal with the questions they were going to be asked. In the end, when the magic hours allowed by English parliamentary law had been filled by dark posturing and circuitousness, it was as though the two men had merely been slapped with a couple of wet fish.
In fact, the hearing was a chance for the Murdochs to do a bit of grandstanding; to cast some sneering remarks before the Great British Public( (those who were interested enough to watch online). Talking about what for any of us would be an astronomical sum of money paid out for any reason, James Murdoch, the scion of the elder, gnarled-but-got-all-his-marbles old man tossed a vague recollection of hush-money to the waiting committee 'I don't recall exactly how much'. This was code for 'we deal in billions. Talking about a few million is, frankly, beneath our contempt'.
The News of The Screws was dangled every now and then by the King Lear-like figure of Ruper Murdoch to focus the contempt in the room, finally being offered up as a sacrificial lamb, though not without the petulance of a rich man losing one of his smaller yachts...Murdoch Senior was eager to point out the loss of the 250,000 readers. Numbers mattered,particularly at this juncture in the sense that they could be deployed to denote loss or else pre-eminence.
Throughout the long session (this was no shareholder meeting and was doubtless prepared for by a 4a.m bowl of porridge and a gym workout by Senior) oldness was wheeled out as required, though not, you understand, the kind of oldness that signified loss of power or decrepitude, rather the oldness of a lion with a thorn in its paw.
The Old Pretender did resort to using old age as victimhood on occasion to buy him some thinking time as money clearly could not plug the gap at such moments. He appeared not to hear the questions asked but then belied his hearing loss with barbed answers after the sage-like pauses.
The father/son angle was fully exploited with Senior and Junior holding their position in dock, and by touches on the arm across the pillories. Senior bowed his head most of the time (apparently in contrition or fatigue but in reality with the concentration of a bull preparing for the next charge).
Their suits had been carefully chosen, even though they were the Emperor's old clothes. Both wore sky-blue ties (to denote innocence) and pleasing, pacific, dark-blue pastel shades, one slightly darker than the other, you see, to signify that they were not in league,or partners in grime but merely relatives. Senior's suit had a faint pinstripe running through it to suggest- well, seniority (and legalese, of course). The pre-Committee training session had clearly instructed them both to place one hand on top of the other. The gesture, according to a body language expert implies helpfulness, openness and also prevents hands from gesticulating wildly and giving too much away.
I also detected a dose of defensiveness in the gesture. James Murdoch's robotic, repetitive answers were betrayed on occasion by the high colouring that broke through the Meditteranean tan borne of too much holidaying and by the rapid blinking of Senior's hooded eyes.
Their verbal suits, however did not have quite the same acuity, although the old father/son schtick came to the rescue. There was Senior's summarising with his down-to-earth thumping, cutting and pushing , the salami-slicing of the table with the hams of his age-spotted hands which said 'I am a man who knows the relative value of things-and by the way, I can still cut the mustard.'
The plastic signage in front of their corporate persons, one saying 'James Murdoch' and the other saying 'Rupert Murdoch' made them look like two naughty public schoolboys (albeit of an Antipodean hue). The obedient crowd behind them seemed to come to their aid rather than holding them back, their heads moving like sunflowers according to the position of the Sun and Son.
At times, Junior was seen to stumble verbally, often parrying with words and exhibiting the signs of having just emerged from the prepping session blinking into the light. Phrases like 'I'm glad you asked me that', 'with reference to the specifics of your question' or 'that's a very good question' allowed him some false contrition and wriggle-room. 'I' was used interchangeably with 'we' and 'we' was used interchangeably with 'News International or 'The Corporation' and demonstrated the fluency of power. Nevertheless, the Son blurtingly ended up repeating himself all the way to the end of the two-hour session. The continuous use of the words 'active' 'proactive', 'actually', 'specifically' 'currently' and his way of denial, as in 'we don't have access to that information' or 'it would be wrong to make a statement while there is a legal process ongoing currently with regard to that particular issue' made him look like a snake thrashing in a pit. Sometimes his language was worthy of Dick Cheney. 'This was re-looked at' he offered 'along with the re-started criminal investigation.' And 'to my knowledge, it was not known about' was another Cheneyism..
Senior's use of long silences not only bought him time but seemed to add a bizarre gravitas to his duplicity, as well as allowing him to find 'le mot juste' in between bouts of bellicosity and a withering, sickly humour which issued from between his teeth like sawdust from between the teeth of the kind of circular saws one finds in a sawmill.
It must have been hard to find the necessary level of penitence or grimness, though, as neither the puppy or the old dog had ever been grilled before.
There was a side effect of the courtroom drama that was much more satisfying than the salacious revelations of the redtopped, bloodsoaked Empire; the distinctly British restraint of the Committee did serve to point up the crassness of the Murdoch show and its disdain for the rule of law. It wasn't, after all, the highest court of the land and a jail sentence was not pending. But it was great to see the Committee members make play with the ancient art of sarcasm, whipping these newsmasters, these hounds with the spoken word, with language; the delicious ironies of men who make their money out of 'telling it like it is' having to tell it like it wasn't had not escaped some of the Committee who wryly clasped their faces with their hands and twisted in their seats. You hoped that they would descend like piranhas onto meat that was dead in the water, though sadly, this did not happen.
The pie incident did happen, though one began to wonder if it had been staged by the Murdochs themselves. The whole thing, except for the pie incident, was not unlike a Bird and Fortune sketch. Each man dug himself into a dirty hole with a set of rather expensive spades and a tiny push from the mild-mannered Committee.
Old Murdoch rolled his head occasionally in a turtle-like fashion to denote derision. His hand-chopping of the table spoke of a vice-like grip, a waning virility and the mutual exclusion between power and delegation.
Like water seeping between cracks, the lies, the blackmail, the manipulation and all the excrescences of power and the pursuit of money had led to a drip becoming a stream and the stream becoming a current throughout the whole phone-hacking phase of the public enquiry. It had led to the spectacle of the world's most powerful media emperors being brought before a lowly court. These excrescences were the very opposite of the thing that Rupert Murdoch popped up from time to time during the Hearing to lecture about. 'Transparency' he had opined 'is one of the things that makes us a more open society, that's one of the great things about this country' (not to mention tax-breaks for residents living abroad).
I am reporting all this straight, of course, but what the hell... decorum and journalistic ethics and standards has clearly gone straight out of the window and punched the wall to smithereens, and anyway, what use is a verbatim report of the biggest farce of them all.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Dirty laundry 07.07.2011
Large companies advertising with News of The World, the disgraced, less than 1% of the largest media corporation in the world) are considering withdrawal from the company.
Proctor and Gamble, the third largest, is one. Its products include Crest Toothpaste and Bold washing powder; the company is only considering the move but has made a big splash in the other papers about it, as did Tesco, who slyly withdrew its indignation amidst the brouhaha.
P and G make big
splash on leaving dirty rag,
hoping for whitewash.
Proctor and Gamble, the third largest, is one. Its products include Crest Toothpaste and Bold washing powder; the company is only considering the move but has made a big splash in the other papers about it, as did Tesco, who slyly withdrew its indignation amidst the brouhaha.
P and G make big
splash on leaving dirty rag,
hoping for whitewash.
Murdoch Empire haiku 07.07.2011.
Source The Financial Times.
The Guardian made some history with its incisive reportage of the extent of phone hacking at News International, headed up by Rupert Murdoch, who owns the largest media corporation in the world, his son James Murdoch and Rebekah Brookes (formerly Wade and editor of the News Of The World) who were all guilty of phone hacking and other transgressions of journalistic practice.
A Government Select Committee is to query them and accuse them of malpractice.
Hacks hacking phones is
news of the world. Murdochs wade
through murky Brookes.
The Guardian made some history with its incisive reportage of the extent of phone hacking at News International, headed up by Rupert Murdoch, who owns the largest media corporation in the world, his son James Murdoch and Rebekah Brookes (formerly Wade and editor of the News Of The World) who were all guilty of phone hacking and other transgressions of journalistic practice.
A Government Select Committee is to query them and accuse them of malpractice.
Hacks hacking phones is
news of the world. Murdochs wade
through murky Brookes.
EU name crisis 11.07.2011
Source: The Guardian
EU Council President Herman Van Rumpoy has called an emergency meeting of top officials dealing with the eurozone crisis.
EU central bank president Jean Claude Trichet will attend the meeting, along with Jean Claude Juncker, chair of the region's finance ministry, EU Commission President Jose Manuel Barroso and Olli Rehn of the Economic and Monetary Affairs Commission.
The talks came after Italian assets were sold off on Friday, increasing fears that Italy could be next to suffer in the debt crisis.
It has the highest sovereign debt ratio relative to its economy after Greece.
EU figures with
dodgy names such as Trichet,
Juncker add to crisis.
EU Council President Herman Van Rumpoy has called an emergency meeting of top officials dealing with the eurozone crisis.
EU central bank president Jean Claude Trichet will attend the meeting, along with Jean Claude Juncker, chair of the region's finance ministry, EU Commission President Jose Manuel Barroso and Olli Rehn of the Economic and Monetary Affairs Commission.
The talks came after Italian assets were sold off on Friday, increasing fears that Italy could be next to suffer in the debt crisis.
It has the highest sovereign debt ratio relative to its economy after Greece.
EU figures with
dodgy names such as Trichet,
Juncker add to crisis.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Shuttle shuffles off 8th July, 2011.
Source: The Telegraph.
Yesterday, NASA's space shuttle completed its last voyage and touched down, never to fly again.
Shuttle shuffles off
this mortal coil leaving deep
space ( N.A.S.A.'s nada)
Yesterday, NASA's space shuttle completed its last voyage and touched down, never to fly again.
Shuttle shuffles off
this mortal coil leaving deep
space ( N.A.S.A.'s nada)
Bombardier hits buffers 6th July, 2011.
More than 1400 jobs will go at Britain's last train builder after the government awarded the contract for commuter train building to Siemens, a German firm because it was 'more competitive' i.e. cheaper. The Government blamed EU regulations.
Once great engine of
industry sold down the line.
Do you see the points?
Once great engine of
industry sold down the line.
Do you see the points?
Yet more Rowling in it 6th July, 2011.
Source: The Times
The Harry Potter films have grossed almost 4bn worldwide, according to The Times.
Perhaps Africa
could have been fed with the dosh
grossed by such gross films.
The Harry Potter films have grossed almost 4bn worldwide, according to The Times.
Perhaps Africa
could have been fed with the dosh
grossed by such gross films.
Old age haiku 5th July, 2011.
Source: The Oldie
A Commission has drawn up plans to fund old age in which no-one would have to pay more than 30% of their savings and assets towards their own care. It suggested raising the limits on assets a person may hold while qualifying for state help from £23,250 to £100,000.
People would still be liable for care home costs but this would be limited to £10,000.
Many feel this is just a rearrangement of the death tax idea of folk funding their own care.
Death and taxes are
two certainties. You can bank
on death taxes too.
A Commission has drawn up plans to fund old age in which no-one would have to pay more than 30% of their savings and assets towards their own care. It suggested raising the limits on assets a person may hold while qualifying for state help from £23,250 to £100,000.
People would still be liable for care home costs but this would be limited to £10,000.
Many feel this is just a rearrangement of the death tax idea of folk funding their own care.
Death and taxes are
two certainties. You can bank
on death taxes too.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Nada's Nadir 3rd July, 2011 x 3
Source: The Independent.
Rafael Nadal , the clay court champion and twice former Wimbledon champion was defeated here at Wimbers by Novak Djokovitch. The match was watched by a delighted Serbian president, Boris Tadic.
A different Boris
is a Tad delighted for
Novelty Novak.
Nada for Nadal;
clay court king reaches nadir,
has champ's feet of clay.
Rafael Nadal , the clay court champion and twice former Wimbledon champion was defeated here at Wimbers by Novak Djokovitch. The match was watched by a delighted Serbian president, Boris Tadic.
A different Boris
is a Tad delighted for
Novelty Novak.
Nada for Nadal;
clay court king reaches nadir,
has champ's feet of clay.
Friday, July 15, 2011
QE2 haikus x 2 04.07.2011
Source: The Financial Times
Policymakers at the Bank of England are to discuss a further injection of cash money into the economy, pushing back the prospect of a rise in interest rates from the all-time low of .5%
So far 200 billion has already been injected. This will be the second cash injection and is therefore known colloquially as QE 2, a reference to the process, quantitative easing.
Southerly, point five,
easing more slowly; money
shipping forecast.
Quantitatively,
QE2, big ship's really
a great big shit.
Policymakers at the Bank of England are to discuss a further injection of cash money into the economy, pushing back the prospect of a rise in interest rates from the all-time low of .5%
So far 200 billion has already been injected. This will be the second cash injection and is therefore known colloquially as QE 2, a reference to the process, quantitative easing.
Southerly, point five,
easing more slowly; money
shipping forecast.
Quantitatively,
QE2, big ship's really
a great big shit.
More Rowling in it x 3 04.07.2011.
Source: The Telegraph
JK Rowling, the Harry Potter author, in a 1997 interview said 'I remember getting a letter. I assumed it was a rejection letter but inside the envelope was a letter saying 'Thankyou. We would be pleased to receive the balance of your M/S on an exclusive basis.'
The letter came from Christopher Little, publishers who initially rejected the work as rubbish. Rowling has since defected from Little.
Mr Little is considering legal action but the new 'literary agent' is a lawyer. His name, ominously, is Blair.
Joanne, rolling in
it, dumps Christopher Little,
who spotted Potter.
Voldemort author
takes dark tone, sends talent scout
to deathly hallows.
Rowling turns Blodwynn
Bludd, Blair may turn out to be
Caratacus Burke.
JK Rowling, the Harry Potter author, in a 1997 interview said 'I remember getting a letter. I assumed it was a rejection letter but inside the envelope was a letter saying 'Thankyou. We would be pleased to receive the balance of your M/S on an exclusive basis.'
The letter came from Christopher Little, publishers who initially rejected the work as rubbish. Rowling has since defected from Little.
Mr Little is considering legal action but the new 'literary agent' is a lawyer. His name, ominously, is Blair.
Joanne, rolling in
it, dumps Christopher Little,
who spotted Potter.
Voldemort author
takes dark tone, sends talent scout
to deathly hallows.
Rowling turns Blodwynn
Bludd, Blair may turn out to be
Caratacus Burke.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Even more Rowling in it x 24th July, 2011
Source: The Times, The Independent.
Literary agent Christopher Little signed up an unknown author, Joanne K Rowling when she was poor with a six-figure deal. Now after 5 billion copies of the Potter books have been sold, and millions made on film and other spin-offs, the author has defected to a Mr.Blair, a lawyer who has gone into publishing.
Beware of lawyers
called Blair. Greed could undo rich,
pisspoor JKR.
The stuff of nightmares,
fairytales, Potter books. Rich
scribe betrays mentor.
Literary agent Christopher Little signed up an unknown author, Joanne K Rowling when she was poor with a six-figure deal. Now after 5 billion copies of the Potter books have been sold, and millions made on film and other spin-offs, the author has defected to a Mr.Blair, a lawyer who has gone into publishing.
Beware of lawyers
called Blair. Greed could undo rich,
pisspoor JKR.
The stuff of nightmares,
fairytales, Potter books. Rich
scribe betrays mentor.
Creativity springs eternal 24.06.2011.
Source: The Independent
Controversial reforms to the national curriculum tests for 11 year olds have headed off the threat of a teacher's boycott next year.
A government-appointed review panel recommended scrapping tests in creative writing (because it was felt that teachers drilled their pupils for them)
Instead teachers will assess creative writing throughout the year.
Creativity
is for life and not just for
Christmas, teachers told.
Controversial reforms to the national curriculum tests for 11 year olds have headed off the threat of a teacher's boycott next year.
A government-appointed review panel recommended scrapping tests in creative writing (because it was felt that teachers drilled their pupils for them)
Instead teachers will assess creative writing throughout the year.
Creativity
is for life and not just for
Christmas, teachers told.
Salmon secrets revealed 24.06.2011.
Source: The Guardian.
As salmon mature, their scales absorb carbon isotopes, chemical signatures whose proportions vary according to what part of the sea the fish are feeding in. Every salmon then, has its own chemical 'tag.'
Scientists keep tabs
on each salmon... and this helps
them exactly how?
As salmon mature, their scales absorb carbon isotopes, chemical signatures whose proportions vary according to what part of the sea the fish are feeding in. Every salmon then, has its own chemical 'tag.'
Scientists keep tabs
on each salmon... and this helps
them exactly how?
Monday, July 11, 2011
Apple's sinister technology haiku x 2 16th June, 2011
Source: The Times.
Apple have plans to build a system that will sense when a person is trying to film a live event (like billionaire DonaldTrump trashing the Balmeanie estate for example and sending in his thugs to intimidate the folk who live there???) Ostensibly, it's to stop people filming concerts, sports events etc., putting them out there for people to view without paying but they will of course be used to 'protect'' the illegal activities of, for example, the IDF when 'covering over' tracks of anyone who happens to have been able to film their assassinations, house demolitions etc on their mobile.
A patent application filed by Apple will use their own technology to switch off the mobile of a person who holds up their iphone to film an event...the device triggers infra-red sensors at events like Wimbledon, Olympics. Other features like texting and phoning will remain intact... obviously as it is Apple who spawned them.
Apple created
spyware. Now they've invented
spyware for spyware.
Apple have plans to build a system that will sense when a person is trying to film a live event (like billionaire DonaldTrump trashing the Balmeanie estate for example and sending in his thugs to intimidate the folk who live there???) Ostensibly, it's to stop people filming concerts, sports events etc., putting them out there for people to view without paying but they will of course be used to 'protect'' the illegal activities of, for example, the IDF when 'covering over' tracks of anyone who happens to have been able to film their assassinations, house demolitions etc on their mobile.
A patent application filed by Apple will use their own technology to switch off the mobile of a person who holds up their iphone to film an event...the device triggers infra-red sensors at events like Wimbledon, Olympics. Other features like texting and phoning will remain intact... obviously as it is Apple who spawned them.
Apple created
spyware. Now they've invented
spyware for spyware.
Trump trashes Scotland. 21.06.2011
Source: The Observer
Donald Trump, the self-aggrandizing billionaire whose name sounds like a cross between a cartoon character and an obscenity flew into Aberdeen ( the folks must ha'e been fair sickent) to announce that 'his' 18-hole golf course would be open next July. He 'bought' the Meanie estate and dunes, one of the very few SSSI's which had been untouched by human hand in 2005, bribing Aberdeenshire Council. Expect him to name the site after himself, then.
A cinema in Aberdeen, the Belmont, is extending its run of 'You've been Trumped' due to an amazing response to the film. In the film, Trump's paid intimidators harrass those who live on the estate .
Trump denounces their protests as a fraud and brushes aside conflicts with David and Moira Milne, coastguard station owners ( now having to live in a caravan) and Michael Forbes, whose land Trump has built on.
Trump trashes Scotland,
tells inhabitants that
they are trailer trash.
Trump's thugs make Clearance-
style clearance of Scots natives
and native Scotland.
Donald Trump, the self-aggrandizing billionaire whose name sounds like a cross between a cartoon character and an obscenity flew into Aberdeen ( the folks must ha'e been fair sickent) to announce that 'his' 18-hole golf course would be open next July. He 'bought' the Meanie estate and dunes, one of the very few SSSI's which had been untouched by human hand in 2005, bribing Aberdeenshire Council. Expect him to name the site after himself, then.
A cinema in Aberdeen, the Belmont, is extending its run of 'You've been Trumped' due to an amazing response to the film. In the film, Trump's paid intimidators harrass those who live on the estate .
Trump denounces their protests as a fraud and brushes aside conflicts with David and Moira Milne, coastguard station owners ( now having to live in a caravan) and Michael Forbes, whose land Trump has built on.
Trump trashes Scotland,
tells inhabitants that
they are trailer trash.
Trump's thugs make Clearance-
style clearance of Scots natives
and native Scotland.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Whingeingdon Haiku 29.06.2011
Source: The Times.
The Williams sisters, regularly seen bulldozing and bellowing their way to hollow victories, sending bloodcurdling cries and bullet-like shots over to opponents whose names they don't care to pronounce threw a hissy fit the other day, complaining that there had been a 'conspiracy' as they were shunted onto Court No 2. Maybe someone was trying to tell them something?
Said Serena Williams "They like to put us on Court No.2 for whatever reason...actually, Venus and I have won more Wimbledon together than a lot of other players... I don't make a big issue out of it but maybe I should do" So saying, she did!
Serene anger shows
Women may be from Venus
but Venus is from hell.
The Williams sisters, regularly seen bulldozing and bellowing their way to hollow victories, sending bloodcurdling cries and bullet-like shots over to opponents whose names they don't care to pronounce threw a hissy fit the other day, complaining that there had been a 'conspiracy' as they were shunted onto Court No 2. Maybe someone was trying to tell them something?
Said Serena Williams "They like to put us on Court No.2 for whatever reason...actually, Venus and I have won more Wimbledon together than a lot of other players... I don't make a big issue out of it but maybe I should do" So saying, she did!
Serene anger shows
Women may be from Venus
but Venus is from hell.
Greek tragedy haikus x 2 24.06.2011
Source: The Financial Times
The Government and Germany were locked in a debate over whether the UK should contribute to a planned second bailout for the ailing Greek economy. Greece has been struggling since the downturn in the European and American economy.
Greek urnings need to
rise in order to avert
a Greek Tragedy.
Big, fat Greek Wedding
is all over. Best to be
philosophical, then.
The Government and Germany were locked in a debate over whether the UK should contribute to a planned second bailout for the ailing Greek economy. Greece has been struggling since the downturn in the European and American economy.
Greek urnings need to
rise in order to avert
a Greek Tragedy.
Big, fat Greek Wedding
is all over. Best to be
philosophical, then.
See Naples and Die Haikus x 3 24.06. 2011
Source: The Metro.
2,400 tonnes of uncollected rubbish in Naples was set alight by members of the public who blocked refuse workers from collecting it.
Naples resembles
one very large pizza,
Napolitana
See Naples and die-but
first dump Berlusconi there
as King of Refuse.
Stench of corruption
in Naples even worse than
its gigantic tip.
2,400 tonnes of uncollected rubbish in Naples was set alight by members of the public who blocked refuse workers from collecting it.
Naples resembles
one very large pizza,
Napolitana
See Naples and die-but
first dump Berlusconi there
as King of Refuse.
Stench of corruption
in Naples even worse than
its gigantic tip.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
'Must love dogs'..the art world au courant 14.06.2011
Source: The Independent Review
Canaletto painted loads of dogs and this is duly noted in a new book by Don Thompson in which he talks about how painting pets and 'loved' animals increased (and does to this day) the 'value' of the work. The breed of dog, he observes, determines the value of a painting. A pure bred animal, pictured traditionally in a painting meant it was worth more than a depiction of a mongrel, etc.,
David Nash, a present day N.Y. art dealer has a rule for animals in art. 'Cows never do well. Never.'
'Cows are so passe
darling. So Victorian.
So, well, yesterday.'
Canaletto painted loads of dogs and this is duly noted in a new book by Don Thompson in which he talks about how painting pets and 'loved' animals increased (and does to this day) the 'value' of the work. The breed of dog, he observes, determines the value of a painting. A pure bred animal, pictured traditionally in a painting meant it was worth more than a depiction of a mongrel, etc.,
David Nash, a present day N.Y. art dealer has a rule for animals in art. 'Cows never do well. Never.'
'Cows are so passe
darling. So Victorian.
So, well, yesterday.'
'New' Monopoly..five haikus 12.06.2011
Source: The Metro.
Hasbro, makers of Monopoly have just marketed the Monopoly Revolution, £29.99. It has a circular board. Old Kent Road is on the market for 600k whilst Mayfair is 4k.
Paper money has been replaced with debit cards.The players still play with a boot, iron, racing car and all the usual pieces...
Your mortgage interest
payments are due. Pay 1k
now or take a chance.
'Fenchurch Mews offers
affordable living space
Sir. The trains? What trains?'
You've reached your credit
limit. Oh go on, one more
k won't break the bank.
Community chest.
Voluntary work scheme ends. Go
directly to jail.
Balfour Beattie buy
Park Lane, Trafalgar Square. Go
Back To Old Kent Road.
Hasbro, makers of Monopoly have just marketed the Monopoly Revolution, £29.99. It has a circular board. Old Kent Road is on the market for 600k whilst Mayfair is 4k.
Paper money has been replaced with debit cards.The players still play with a boot, iron, racing car and all the usual pieces...
Your mortgage interest
payments are due. Pay 1k
now or take a chance.
'Fenchurch Mews offers
affordable living space
Sir. The trains? What trains?'
You've reached your credit
limit. Oh go on, one more
k won't break the bank.
Community chest.
Voluntary work scheme ends. Go
directly to jail.
Balfour Beattie buy
Park Lane, Trafalgar Square. Go
Back To Old Kent Road.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Lab-produced meat.12.06.2011
Source: The Times.
'Cultured' meat i.e. lab-produced tissue for consumption could lessen the impact of wide-scale destruction of our rainforests, which are culled to raise crops and graze animals for slaughter to feed the world's burgeoning meat-eating populations. Emergent economies like China and India are meat-orientated.
The science is likely to be developed in five years time. Scientists from Oxford and Amsterdam Universities are working on the production of lab-grown tissue.
Environmental
issue spawns tissue, culture
of lab-grown lamb crowns.
'Cultured' meat i.e. lab-produced tissue for consumption could lessen the impact of wide-scale destruction of our rainforests, which are culled to raise crops and graze animals for slaughter to feed the world's burgeoning meat-eating populations. Emergent economies like China and India are meat-orientated.
The science is likely to be developed in five years time. Scientists from Oxford and Amsterdam Universities are working on the production of lab-grown tissue.
Environmental
issue spawns tissue, culture
of lab-grown lamb crowns.
Roni Size haikus 21.06.2011.
Source The Guardian Review
Drum and bass pioneer rapper Roni Size, aged 41, accused of GBH, was found not guilty in court of throwing his girlfriend down the stairs at his Bristol home. Size was a Mercury Prize winner in 1997.
He was born Ryan Williams.
Man with giant-sized
ego ( no mark) makes lots of
marks on his girlfriend.
Act your age, not your
shoe size, Roni (we know your
real name is Ryan.)
Base behaviour thrown
out of court. Roni gets just
rap over knuckles.
Drum and bass pioneer rapper Roni Size, aged 41, accused of GBH, was found not guilty in court of throwing his girlfriend down the stairs at his Bristol home. Size was a Mercury Prize winner in 1997.
He was born Ryan Williams.
Man with giant-sized
ego ( no mark) makes lots of
marks on his girlfriend.
Act your age, not your
shoe size, Roni (we know your
real name is Ryan.)
Base behaviour thrown
out of court. Roni gets just
rap over knuckles.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
A robin alarmed
A robin on a
fence post
puffs himself out
for all he's worth,
dipping and tittering,
shaking like an alarm clock.
He knows his enemies
in a linear way,
knows the way of all flesh.
So he squares up
to this sudden shocking plunder
of bulldozing proportions,
squares up to something
forty times
his size.
fence post
puffs himself out
for all he's worth,
dipping and tittering,
shaking like an alarm clock.
He knows his enemies
in a linear way,
knows the way of all flesh.
So he squares up
to this sudden shocking plunder
of bulldozing proportions,
squares up to something
forty times
his size.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Wimbledon balls 20.06.2011
Source The Independent
Wimbledon opened for business today... 25,000 bottles of champers will be knocked back and a punnet of strawberies will set you back £2.50 for ten (berries). Bubbly has risen to £61 per bottle. The sliding 80k roof has only been used twice since it opened in 2009.
Much vaunted vaulting
comes to sliding stop, champagne
may leave punters flat.
Twenty five thousand
bottles of bubbly knocked back,
like balls at Wimbers.
Ten strawberries for
how much? Champers for Sixty
quid? What a racket!
Wimbledon opened for business today... 25,000 bottles of champers will be knocked back and a punnet of strawberies will set you back £2.50 for ten (berries). Bubbly has risen to £61 per bottle. The sliding 80k roof has only been used twice since it opened in 2009.
Much vaunted vaulting
comes to sliding stop, champagne
may leave punters flat.
Twenty five thousand
bottles of bubbly knocked back,
like balls at Wimbers.
Ten strawberries for
how much? Champers for Sixty
quid? What a racket!
RIP Brian Haw, a straight haiku 19.06.2011.
Source The Indpendent.
On the same day that a Nato airstrike killed 9 civilians in Tripoli, Britain's longest protest against these illegal adventurist wars of occupation in the Middle East mounted by a single person, and the longest solo peace rally ever ended when the heroic and dignified Brian Haw died.
Dear Brian, may you
rest in peace as a tireless,
dignified peace warrior.
On the same day that a Nato airstrike killed 9 civilians in Tripoli, Britain's longest protest against these illegal adventurist wars of occupation in the Middle East mounted by a single person, and the longest solo peace rally ever ended when the heroic and dignified Brian Haw died.
Dear Brian, may you
rest in peace as a tireless,
dignified peace warrior.
Nat us 20.06.2011
Source The Guardian.
Martin Fletcher reports from Tripoli.
A NATO arstrike killed 9 citizens in an apartment block in an early morning strike.
"Nato regrets the loss of innocent civilian lives and takes great care in conducting strikes against a regime determined to use violence against its own citizens" said Lt.Gen. Bouchard, commander of 'Operation United Protection'.
It was not clear, reported The Times, which nation in the Alliance fired the errant missile.
Nato unity's
so strong that no-one's owning up
to targetted strike.
Martin Fletcher reports from Tripoli.
A NATO arstrike killed 9 citizens in an apartment block in an early morning strike.
"Nato regrets the loss of innocent civilian lives and takes great care in conducting strikes against a regime determined to use violence against its own citizens" said Lt.Gen. Bouchard, commander of 'Operation United Protection'.
It was not clear, reported The Times, which nation in the Alliance fired the errant missile.
Nato unity's
so strong that no-one's owning up
to targetted strike.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Dell'Olio balls 16th June, 2011
Source: Times Review
Nancy Dell' Olio, cited in an article by Carol Midgley. " Im a very loved person...women and men, they both love me and this is because I'm one of the kindest people I know".
Dell'Olio digs
herself into holier
than thou holio.
Nancy Dell' Olio, cited in an article by Carol Midgley. " Im a very loved person...women and men, they both love me and this is because I'm one of the kindest people I know".
Dell'Olio digs
herself into holier
than thou holio.
Apple's appl. 16.06.2011
Source: The Times.
A patent application filed by Apple will use technology to switch off the mobile of a person who holds up their iphone to film an event...the device will trigger infra-red sensors at events like Wimbledon, Olympics. Other features like texting and phoning will remain intact , needless to say although one day that may be censored by apps. too....funny that, as it is Apple who spawned Iphones and Applemacs in the first place.
Spy app will play I-
spy -with -my -little- eye but
this will be no fun
Apple core exposed.
Spyware inventors invent
spyware for spyware
A patent application filed by Apple will use technology to switch off the mobile of a person who holds up their iphone to film an event...the device will trigger infra-red sensors at events like Wimbledon, Olympics. Other features like texting and phoning will remain intact , needless to say although one day that may be censored by apps. too....funny that, as it is Apple who spawned Iphones and Applemacs in the first place.
Spy app will play I-
spy -with -my -little- eye but
this will be no fun
Apple core exposed.
Spyware inventors invent
spyware for spyware
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Sony no longer walking 11.06.2011.
Source The Metro.
Sony has pulled production of its world famous and iconic Walkman.
Cassette production
reeled in. No more Alison
Moyet while jogging.
Sony has pulled production of its world famous and iconic Walkman.
Cassette production
reeled in. No more Alison
Moyet while jogging.
Friday, June 10, 2011
More football howlers 28.05.2011.
Source: Live BBC transmission. Match of The Day Man Utd v Barcelona.
"The main soloist in a solo effort for his team does it again"
"Rooney going on an individual run"
"You expect them (Barca) to have lots of possession"
"The mountain they had to climb after Messi's second half goal became an Eiger after Villa's.
"The main soloist in a solo effort for his team does it again"
"Rooney going on an individual run"
"You expect them (Barca) to have lots of possession"
"The mountain they had to climb after Messi's second half goal became an Eiger after Villa's.
Benefit fraud firsts...28.05.2011
Source: The Times
Claire Jones, of Tonypandy, South Wales was paid £6,000 between April, 2008 and August 2010 by the DWP for disability. She performed a skydive in Oct. 2008 for charity.
Bit of ducking and
diving meant sky wasn't just
Claire's only limit.
Claire Jones, of Tonypandy, South Wales was paid £6,000 between April, 2008 and August 2010 by the DWP for disability. She performed a skydive in Oct. 2008 for charity.
Bit of ducking and
diving meant sky wasn't just
Claire's only limit.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Obama's sin-laden decision. 02.05.2011.
Source: The Financial Times
President Obama calmly announced the assasination of Osama Bin Laden after ten years of him being staked out unsuccessfully by the US administration. I have a feeling that the zeitgeist was to keep him on the wanted list for as long as possible, to keep the flame of Islamophobia alive and also because no-one actually dared to kill him. He was a hot potato. Even in death, his killers were afraid to to bury him on the ground in a traditional way and slyly 'lost' his body in the Indian Ocean.
Obama Hussein Barrack took the unpopular step of killing a man with a name and cultural background not unlike his own, presumably to 'distance' himself from the 'charge' that he was a Muslim (Oh My God!!!) and had no birth certificate, having him dispached in a cowardly, hands-off, hands-on way in order to prove that he was no coward, and to boost his flagging popularity in time for the mid-term elections. There was something rather Shakespearean about the whole sordid affair.
I would have thought that Obama knew enough about history to realise that, no matter what 'acts of bravery' he carries out, these will never be enough for his rivals, or for the fickle public who will soon start baying that he didn't go far enough, that it wasn't him who 'got the scalp' etc., etc.,
Barrack's sin-laden
Shakespearean killing makes
dark blood on his hands.
President buys support
by blowing up 'enemy'.
Hmmm-sounds familiar.
President Obama calmly announced the assasination of Osama Bin Laden after ten years of him being staked out unsuccessfully by the US administration. I have a feeling that the zeitgeist was to keep him on the wanted list for as long as possible, to keep the flame of Islamophobia alive and also because no-one actually dared to kill him. He was a hot potato. Even in death, his killers were afraid to to bury him on the ground in a traditional way and slyly 'lost' his body in the Indian Ocean.
Obama Hussein Barrack took the unpopular step of killing a man with a name and cultural background not unlike his own, presumably to 'distance' himself from the 'charge' that he was a Muslim (Oh My God!!!) and had no birth certificate, having him dispached in a cowardly, hands-off, hands-on way in order to prove that he was no coward, and to boost his flagging popularity in time for the mid-term elections. There was something rather Shakespearean about the whole sordid affair.
I would have thought that Obama knew enough about history to realise that, no matter what 'acts of bravery' he carries out, these will never be enough for his rivals, or for the fickle public who will soon start baying that he didn't go far enough, that it wasn't him who 'got the scalp' etc., etc.,
Barrack's sin-laden
Shakespearean killing makes
dark blood on his hands.
President buys support
by blowing up 'enemy'.
Hmmm-sounds familiar.
Monday, May 30, 2011
E-confessions. 09.06.2011.
Source: The Times.
Roman Catholic bishops have approved a new iphone app. that allows users to to make confessions with a virtual priest over the internet.
'Confessions: a Roman catholic App.' on sale this week offers 'a personalized examination of conscience for each user.' Sins are listed by misdeed and omission. A button lists 'customary sins' gluttony, envy, greed, etc. Each sin is check-boxed. A 'next' command brings up one of the Acts of Contrition. Users then press 'Receive Absolution and respond Amen' before going to 'Finish.' A spiritual quote then comes up.
It was made by 'Little Apps'
Forgive me father
for coveting my neighbour's
phone, deleting sins.
Father Ted, eat your
heart out. Virtual Churches,
priests, sins are here now!
I can say ten Hail
Marys, watch Babe Station and
shop at the same time.
Roman Catholic bishops have approved a new iphone app. that allows users to to make confessions with a virtual priest over the internet.
'Confessions: a Roman catholic App.' on sale this week offers 'a personalized examination of conscience for each user.' Sins are listed by misdeed and omission. A button lists 'customary sins' gluttony, envy, greed, etc. Each sin is check-boxed. A 'next' command brings up one of the Acts of Contrition. Users then press 'Receive Absolution and respond Amen' before going to 'Finish.' A spiritual quote then comes up.
It was made by 'Little Apps'
Forgive me father
for coveting my neighbour's
phone, deleting sins.
Father Ted, eat your
heart out. Virtual Churches,
priests, sins are here now!
I can say ten Hail
Marys, watch Babe Station and
shop at the same time.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Open Reach girl 20.07.2011.
Tall, quiet, assured,
you came right to
the address,
no messing.
Unassuming you were,
though people,
I assume,
assumed.
You read my notice;
'Bell not working-
knock loudly. Thankyou.'
You knocked loudly.
As I opened up, you
stood before me-
all there in navy blue and
high viz, a paramedic
of the wires;
apologised for
knocking loudly,
took down my details,
assured me that
there would be a line.
Smiled a mile-wide
smile.
At the olive green
junction box, you rearranged
combinations, threw switches,
did not flinch,
separated wires,
bundled the twisted
red and yellow pairs.
Worked alone.
Phoned home.
Reaching the van
you pulled down the ladder,
threw up the climbing gear,
made your way up the gaffs,
got down to it,
gathered up the loops
on the dead-end pole,
hard-hatted and braced
for anything,
spidered up there.
You hugged the pole, peered
at the wire web,
pulled on mechanic's
white gloves,
reached the supply space,
cradled the box,
opened it.
Intent on the problem
you knew you could solve,
you worked it out,
stared it out,
embraced it as
the unforgiving sun glanced
off your linesman's hard hat,
faded your vest,
glinted on your tool pouch,
heated the creosote,
shone fiercely.
I revelled in your
level-headedness.
The way you,
sure-footed
and booted,
outshone others without
meaning to,
climbed poles
whether greasy or not,
gripped the gaffs,
twisted the wires,
inspired-
accidentally.
Afterwards, you shouldered
the ladders, slotted them
back on the van roof,
thanked me for nothing,
three-point-turned neatly;
left, no sweat.
you came right to
the address,
no messing.
Unassuming you were,
though people,
I assume,
assumed.
You read my notice;
'Bell not working-
knock loudly. Thankyou.'
You knocked loudly.
As I opened up, you
stood before me-
all there in navy blue and
high viz, a paramedic
of the wires;
apologised for
knocking loudly,
took down my details,
assured me that
there would be a line.
Smiled a mile-wide
smile.
At the olive green
junction box, you rearranged
combinations, threw switches,
did not flinch,
separated wires,
bundled the twisted
red and yellow pairs.
Worked alone.
Phoned home.
Reaching the van
you pulled down the ladder,
threw up the climbing gear,
made your way up the gaffs,
got down to it,
gathered up the loops
on the dead-end pole,
hard-hatted and braced
for anything,
spidered up there.
You hugged the pole, peered
at the wire web,
pulled on mechanic's
white gloves,
reached the supply space,
cradled the box,
opened it.
Intent on the problem
you knew you could solve,
you worked it out,
stared it out,
embraced it as
the unforgiving sun glanced
off your linesman's hard hat,
faded your vest,
glinted on your tool pouch,
heated the creosote,
shone fiercely.
I revelled in your
level-headedness.
The way you,
sure-footed
and booted,
outshone others without
meaning to,
climbed poles
whether greasy or not,
gripped the gaffs,
twisted the wires,
inspired-
accidentally.
Afterwards, you shouldered
the ladders, slotted them
back on the van roof,
thanked me for nothing,
three-point-turned neatly;
left, no sweat.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Your Mother's Daughter 12.08.2011.
Your black Kompressor Estate
swirled into the car park,
scudded gravel that spat out
from beneath tyres.
You sprang out of a beaded seat,
clipped the door shut,
hived off any nonsense,
made the point.
The wisp of split-blonde
shoulder-length hair
echoed your passenger's
grey, shoulder-cut hair,
yet you were altogether different.
You pulled forward a black cardigan,
smoothed it down
over troubles.
Sliding round to the car boot
(whose bumper sticker
announced a common
passion for Dobermanns)
you made it fly open;
made another point.
Finally, you rounded the
flank of the black car,
yanked open the
stubborn passenger door
(since your youthfulness seemed eternal)
prised out your wavering,
bewilderd mother, handcuffed her
to your arm, marched her
slowly after a minute of her arising
(which seemed to you an eternity)
willed her along the flagstones
like a category A prisoner.
Sighing below herself
your mother went along with it,
wishing for some kind of reaccord,
forgiveness always on her lovely lips.
You jabbered at her, gabbled out the words,
disquieted, not liking how you were,
you wished away the minutes,
the hours, the ties
that screamed the quiet truth
(even in your Singapore home)
that you were still
your mother's daughter.
From behind, you were two persons
connected by some length
of life that tarried behind you,
seethed around you.
From behind, you were still
your mother's daughter
and she was still
your mother.
swirled into the car park,
scudded gravel that spat out
from beneath tyres.
You sprang out of a beaded seat,
clipped the door shut,
hived off any nonsense,
made the point.
The wisp of split-blonde
shoulder-length hair
echoed your passenger's
grey, shoulder-cut hair,
yet you were altogether different.
You pulled forward a black cardigan,
smoothed it down
over troubles.
Sliding round to the car boot
(whose bumper sticker
announced a common
passion for Dobermanns)
you made it fly open;
made another point.
Finally, you rounded the
flank of the black car,
yanked open the
stubborn passenger door
(since your youthfulness seemed eternal)
prised out your wavering,
bewilderd mother, handcuffed her
to your arm, marched her
slowly after a minute of her arising
(which seemed to you an eternity)
willed her along the flagstones
like a category A prisoner.
Sighing below herself
your mother went along with it,
wishing for some kind of reaccord,
forgiveness always on her lovely lips.
You jabbered at her, gabbled out the words,
disquieted, not liking how you were,
you wished away the minutes,
the hours, the ties
that screamed the quiet truth
(even in your Singapore home)
that you were still
your mother's daughter.
From behind, you were two persons
connected by some length
of life that tarried behind you,
seethed around you.
From behind, you were still
your mother's daughter
and she was still
your mother.
Monday, May 23, 2011
More IMF chief haiku x 2 21.05.2011.
Source The Guardian.
The President of the IMF, arguably the world's leading banker has been had up for raping a chambermaid at a New York Sofotel. Dominique Strauss Kahn, who until now has been grooming himself for the Presidency of France, could be sent to Riker's Island to do time along with other categories of hardknock.
Chief banker tells world's
poor to tighten belts
while loosening his.
IMF rapist
may go down after making
girl go down on him.
Banker turns bonker,
does time after doing crime
with other hardknocks.
The President of the IMF, arguably the world's leading banker has been had up for raping a chambermaid at a New York Sofotel. Dominique Strauss Kahn, who until now has been grooming himself for the Presidency of France, could be sent to Riker's Island to do time along with other categories of hardknock.
Chief banker tells world's
poor to tighten belts
while loosening his.
IMF rapist
may go down after making
girl go down on him.
Banker turns bonker,
does time after doing crime
with other hardknocks.
In a doctor's waiting room 20.05.2011
The patients face each other
as if downstairs on a
double-decker bus
In this waiting room
there's some connection
that strings them together
unwillingly;
that reaches across discretion
unhappily;
In this place,
muteness alone
speaks.
In this place, the posters
talk to us, read us their
stories, ask us questions.
'Meningitis and Septicaemia-the signs'.
'Health MOT. Are you due?'
'Back Ache? Frozen Shoulder?
Joints and Points now have three clinics
on the Wirral'.
'If you had blurred vision
and a sore throat, would you know
what to do?'
'Breast Milk.It's amazing'
On one poster, the joyful figure
of £1,000 has been reached in felt-tip
for the Kenya Camp.
In this place, there is not a single murmur,
though the statuesque wait on with
their small protests; a cough here,
a shuffle there, a vacant stare,
the flipping of a mobile,
a rearrangement of clothing.
A man in workboots grunts
as he rises to the siren call,
heads for the red crisis LED lights.
In this place,
muteness alone
screams the truth.
as if downstairs on a
double-decker bus
In this waiting room
there's some connection
that strings them together
unwillingly;
that reaches across discretion
unhappily;
In this place,
muteness alone
speaks.
In this place, the posters
talk to us, read us their
stories, ask us questions.
'Meningitis and Septicaemia-the signs'.
'Health MOT. Are you due?'
'Back Ache? Frozen Shoulder?
Joints and Points now have three clinics
on the Wirral'.
'If you had blurred vision
and a sore throat, would you know
what to do?'
'Breast Milk.It's amazing'
On one poster, the joyful figure
of £1,000 has been reached in felt-tip
for the Kenya Camp.
In this place, there is not a single murmur,
though the statuesque wait on with
their small protests; a cough here,
a shuffle there, a vacant stare,
the flipping of a mobile,
a rearrangement of clothing.
A man in workboots grunts
as he rises to the siren call,
heads for the red crisis LED lights.
In this place,
muteness alone
screams the truth.
A parent-teacher meeting 13.01.2011
A parent-teacher meeting. 13.01.2011.
At six, the dark envelope
of a fleeing blackbird
folds itself down at the foot
of a beech hedge.
My bike wheels ticker
in the dusk-ink blue.
I pass the celebratory school room,
lit-up, as though
all its occupants were
tucking into something.
Around the computer desks,
shifting under the dark
bulk of parents,
shorn-headed boys
have been scrambled
for the night.
They sit small,
still wearing grey,
scrunch their fists
under the tables.
Their cheeks colour over
what has been glossed over,
what has come crashing
around their bright red ears.
Elephants tired of being
in the room have left,
have squeezed through
classroom doors,
have left them swinging.
'Too late to say it now'
thinks one lad.
Too late for the bright moment.
The bulky parents,
those who have finally
been drained of questions,
drained of care,
are loathe to leave.
Instead, at Nine,
the teachers rise
to leave them.
At six, the dark envelope
of a fleeing blackbird
folds itself down at the foot
of a beech hedge.
My bike wheels ticker
in the dusk-ink blue.
I pass the celebratory school room,
lit-up, as though
all its occupants were
tucking into something.
Around the computer desks,
shifting under the dark
bulk of parents,
shorn-headed boys
have been scrambled
for the night.
They sit small,
still wearing grey,
scrunch their fists
under the tables.
Their cheeks colour over
what has been glossed over,
what has come crashing
around their bright red ears.
Elephants tired of being
in the room have left,
have squeezed through
classroom doors,
have left them swinging.
'Too late to say it now'
thinks one lad.
Too late for the bright moment.
The bulky parents,
those who have finally
been drained of questions,
drained of care,
are loathe to leave.
Instead, at Nine,
the teachers rise
to leave them.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Night Journey on the M62
The motorway lights slide over
our driver's pate. His Doc Marten
issues play the soft pedal clutch
of this great white Wurlitzer.
Safety is in his wristwatched hand,
resting on a serge thigh,
and the knife-edge crease
of his pale-blue shirt.
Safety is the mannered flick of
the console switches.
Safety is the thud of studs as
he switches lanes,
the lay-by ghosting past.
Safety is the throbbing wheelbase,
is the cushioned hiss of
air brakes, the coach
kneeling down at his
Gardener's Arms stop.
striding forward,
billowing out, surging over
the Thelwall Viaduct.
Away over home, the neon
clusters, the billboards
say 'The Future's Knowsley'
and the mind roars with laughter,
mistranslates it:
The Future's Nowhere
A hundred novel pages read
do funny things to a night journey.
A thousand journeys say
you will be delivered safely
to your destination;
(we still say 'destination').
The driver takes us down
to 50, then 40;
after all that striding,
all that billowing
and surging
he takes us down a motorway that
fizzles out at Edge Lane,
the end.
our driver's pate. His Doc Marten
issues play the soft pedal clutch
of this great white Wurlitzer.
Safety is in his wristwatched hand,
resting on a serge thigh,
and the knife-edge crease
of his pale-blue shirt.
Safety is the mannered flick of
the console switches.
Safety is the thud of studs as
he switches lanes,
the lay-by ghosting past.
Safety is the throbbing wheelbase,
is the cushioned hiss of
air brakes, the coach
kneeling down at his
Gardener's Arms stop.
striding forward,
billowing out, surging over
the Thelwall Viaduct.
Away over home, the neon
clusters, the billboards
say 'The Future's Knowsley'
and the mind roars with laughter,
mistranslates it:
The Future's Nowhere
A hundred novel pages read
do funny things to a night journey.
A thousand journeys say
you will be delivered safely
to your destination;
(we still say 'destination').
The driver takes us down
to 50, then 40;
after all that striding,
all that billowing
and surging
he takes us down a motorway that
fizzles out at Edge Lane,
the end.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Newspeak
Spotted in The Guardian 23.03.2011
'emotional optics'. ' Background: Allied forces attack Libya.. indiscriminate bombing, random strikes kill many Libyan citizens.
'A Senior Cabinet Minister admitted that the emotional optics of cruise missiles raining down backed by coalition military briefings had unwelcome echoes of Iraq.'
In the same paper...
'mission creep'. Background: Allied forces attack Libyan citizens in the week in which a split between a military who urged caution and Cameron's pursuance of Gaddafi
'there was disquiet about 'mission creep' ..and whether the intervention would end in an unstable partition of Libya.
The head of US African Command Gen. Carter F.Ham said he was not worried about 'mission creep.'
'emotional optics'. ' Background: Allied forces attack Libya.. indiscriminate bombing, random strikes kill many Libyan citizens.
'A Senior Cabinet Minister admitted that the emotional optics of cruise missiles raining down backed by coalition military briefings had unwelcome echoes of Iraq.'
In the same paper...
'mission creep'. Background: Allied forces attack Libyan citizens in the week in which a split between a military who urged caution and Cameron's pursuance of Gaddafi
'there was disquiet about 'mission creep' ..and whether the intervention would end in an unstable partition of Libya.
The head of US African Command Gen. Carter F.Ham said he was not worried about 'mission creep.'
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Freud and co. cake it 20.03.2011
Source: The Observer.
Fat cat Matthew Freud's Freud Communications Co. is being paid £500,000 a year to 'advise' on the government's new anti-obesity campaign, Change4Life. Funny that, because it also helps obesity (and itself) along via a big dollop of fizzy drinks and sweets promotions.
The £250 million Change4Life programme provides vouchers for healthy foods. Yet Mars, Pepsicola et.al. have been paying Matthew Freud's company 1.5 million per annum for the last three yeras.
It's a family stitch-up really as the vouchers are carried in the News of the Screws, owned by none other than Ruper Murdoch, whose daughter is married to... you guessed it, Matthew Freud (grandson of Sigmund)
Incidentally, Freud schmoozed David Cameron on a big fat yacht last year...
Matthew's portions grow,
fatten Murdochdom by slipped
Freudian standards.
Fat cats Freud, Murdoch
cake it, grow corpulent on
our obesity.
Fat cat Matthew Freud's Freud Communications Co. is being paid £500,000 a year to 'advise' on the government's new anti-obesity campaign, Change4Life. Funny that, because it also helps obesity (and itself) along via a big dollop of fizzy drinks and sweets promotions.
The £250 million Change4Life programme provides vouchers for healthy foods. Yet Mars, Pepsicola et.al. have been paying Matthew Freud's company 1.5 million per annum for the last three yeras.
It's a family stitch-up really as the vouchers are carried in the News of the Screws, owned by none other than Ruper Murdoch, whose daughter is married to... you guessed it, Matthew Freud (grandson of Sigmund)
Incidentally, Freud schmoozed David Cameron on a big fat yacht last year...
Matthew's portions grow,
fatten Murdochdom by slipped
Freudian standards.
Fat cats Freud, Murdoch
cake it, grow corpulent on
our obesity.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Zuckerberg sucks 09.02.2011.
Source: The Guardian
Mark Zuckerberg, lists his Facebook profile interests as 'openness, making things that help people connect and share what's important to them'
Is that why he obtained a restraining order on Pradeep Manukonda, alleging that the 31 year old 'sent him flowers and tried to accost him.' He also accused Manukonda of writing a letter to tell him that he'd been 'an inspiration to all of us.'
Desire to connect
turns Fbook founder MZuch
into fuckoff schmuck.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Elton 'pops' sprog.
Source: The Times
The rock star Elton John, 63, has decided to become a gay dad with his partner David Furnish.
He hired a surrogate mother, a 'gestation carrier' as it is known in the USA at
£10,000 a pop ('that's 1.67 per hour, as the owner of the womb balefully announced) for the sprog he has named Zachary.
Elton also 'revealed' his desire to found a museum to house his huge photo collection and personal memorabilia.
'I've always wanted to leave all the photographs to the nation, and the memorabilia at the same time, to create a museum where you see my life' said Elton, formerly known as Reg. Dwight. 'Instead of doing a biography or autobiography' he mused 'you see my life through objects and you get to see the wonderful photographs I've collected over the years.
I'd love to do that but you have to find the space and get it funded-it's quite complicated.'
Elton can't write pop
any more. He's decided
to pop one instead.
Dwight, decrepit,
pays gestation carrier
to Furnish a son.
Loaded has-been Dwight
wants the world to pay to view
his off-loaded crap.
E-confessions.09.02.2011
Source: The Times.
Roman Catholic bishops have approved a new iphone/ipad app. that allows users to to make confessions with a virtual priest over the internet.
'Confessions: a Roman catholic App.' on sale this week offers 'a personalized examination of conscience for each user.' Sins are listed by misdeed and omission. A button lists 'customary sins' gluttony, envy, greed, etc. Each sin is check-boxed. A next command brings up one of the Acts of Contrition. Users then press 'Receive Absolution and respond Amen' before going to 'Finish.' A spiritual quote then comes up.
It was made by 'Little Apps'
Forgive me father
for coveting my neighbour's
app., deleting sins.
Father Ted, eat your
heart out. Virtual Churches,
priests, sins are here now!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Hospital cafe13.03.2011
Shelved, for a time
in the cafe queue,
the visitors glaze over,
dazed, gaze through the
thickets of care, of chat
and that;
seek crumbs, slices of
comfort- hot paninis,
steak pies,
Roquefort binlids
Roquefort binlids
something wholly
inappropriate;
burn fingers, mouths,
minds;
watch the green caps
and aprons rush around,
watch the green caps
and aprons rush around,
watch the incubation
of hot food.
Hospital visitors. 13.03.2011
Hospital visitors 28.01.2011.
The disarrayed folk collected here,
dragged out at strange times
are huddling behind the swish doors
that flap open, give way
to a fate that is
to a fate that is
death or deliverance.
We mass in the corridor,
just beyond the life support business.
The heart and heat of terror
seers, coalescing inside us.
We are aghast as never
before.
The hand cleansers
are salvation
We wash away certainty,
cleanse fear,
bacteria, everything
here at the font,
bathe sorrow over
and over again,
fist over fist.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Greedy Kraft 08.12.2010.
Source The Metro:
Kraft(y) plan to avoid British corporation tax by putting the newly-acquired Cadbury under the control of a Swiss-based holding company.
First they pretended that they would 'save' jobs by relocating from Bournville to Somerset, then they closed down the Somerset Cadbury operation and, moved it lock, stock and choc out of the UK altogether like I knew they would for tax avoidance purposes.
Flaky US firm
milks Cadbury's, Twirls out of
tax bill,
Craftiness...placing
Britain's last known firm
in Toblerone land.
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Daily Click 03.02.2011
Source: The Times.
The £30k launch of Rupert Murdoch's e-paper, 'The Daily', the first of its kind, means that 'users' will pay 61p a week to consume the product which offers 360 degree photography, H.D. video and audio soundtracks, animated graphics, etc...
E technology
makes new ways to tell fibs, tall
tales in taller ways.
News Corps scoops media
mart, pushes presses out of the
picture with e-pics.
The £30k launch of Rupert Murdoch's e-paper, 'The Daily', the first of its kind, means that 'users' will pay 61p a week to consume the product which offers 360 degree photography, H.D. video and audio soundtracks, animated graphics, etc...
E technology
makes new ways to tell fibs, tall
tales in taller ways.
News Corps scoops media
mart, pushes presses out of the
picture with e-pics.
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