I started reading J.M. Coetzee’s (Wikipedia tells me it’s a common Afrikaans name pronounced “kut’se”) book ‘Disgrace’. Coetzee is the recipient of the Nobel prize for Literature in 2003 and the Booker Prize in 1999.

The book ‘Disgrace’ is about a 52-year old professor at a Cape Town university who has an affair with a student that goes sour. It’s a beautifully written book with a humanistic approach, a multilayered masterpiece, so I’ll give you an excerpt that really hit me last evening.

Intro: The Professor used to teach Classics and Modern Languages at the university, but that faculty has been closed down and so he stays on as a redundant Communications professor; a job for which he has no love, and so fails to inspire any in his students. Soraya is a prostitute, a moralistic prostitute, he visits every Thursday afternoon:-

He continues to teach because it provides him with a livelihood; also because it teaches him humility, brings it home to him who he is in the world. The irony does not escape him: that the one who comes to teach learns the keenest of lessons, while those who come to learn learn nothing. It is a feature of his profession on which he does not remark to Soraya. He doubts there is an irony to match it in hers.

“He touched a lot of people”

Famous, Rich and Homeless

Format: Five Celebrities (whatever that means) attempt to live the lives of homeless people in three-day trials that get tougher.

Prize: None

Great show on the Beeb brought to light the perils and hardships that homeless people in Britain face. Must watch for everyone. Some of the stories brought tears to my eyes.

I watched a programme yesterday about wildlife refuges in London, and they showed a beautiful rooftop garden, the largest in Europe, on top of an ex-department store. They are open to the public unless booked, and accessible through a doorway marked ‘99 Kensington High Street’. The garden had oak trees in 18 inches of topsoil and four swans, a couple of which where called Splosh and Pecks!

Heard this beautiful song on the radio today. By British Singer/Songwriter John Martyn.

May you never lay your head down without a hand to hold
May you never make your bed out in the cold

You’re just like a great strong brother of mine and you know that I love you true
You never talk dirty behind my back and I know there are those that do
Won’t you please, won’t you please, won’t you bear in mind
Love is a lesson to learn in our time
Won’t you please won’t please won’t you bear in mind for me

May you never lay your head down without a hand to hold
May you never make your bed out in the cold

And you’re just like a good close sister me and you know that I love you true
You hold no blade to stab me in the back and I know that some do
Won’t you please won’t you please won’t you bear in mind
Love is a lesson to learn time
Won’t you please won’t you please won’t you bear it mind for me

May you never lay your head down without a hand to hold
May you never make your bed out in the cold

May you never lose your temper if you get hit in a bar room fight
May you never lose your woman over night

May you never lay your head down without a hand to hold
May you never make your bed out in the cold

May you never lose your temper if you get hit in a bar room fight
May you never lose your woman over night

I just read about the humble pond skater. More precisely, about how male pond skaters are forced to dance for sex.

Apparently, the females of one species have evolved a genital shield (now there’s a scary thought; sort of like a portcullis/guillotine (both of these French words, I note) clamping shut when she’s not happy) and only mate with the male if they like the song he taps out on the water surface.

Reminds me of Sting’s eight-hour sexathon claim, which he says included “four hours of begging then dinner and a movie”.

Yes, according to New Scientist it takes “an elaborate mating ritual lasting about 15 minutes” before the poor male will get a nod and a leg over. Which makes you wonder how much energy he’ll have left…

You can’t make these things up, and here’s the proof. The next time I see a male red-backed water strider, usually found in stationary pools beside mountain streams in Korea, Japan and China I’m reliably told, I will send a genuine wave of empathic feeling his way.

I watched a documentary on BBC2 yesterday presented by reporter Kate Adie who was on the scene in Beijing during the Tiananmen Square massacre of June ‘89. Returning 20 years later for the first time, her views, memories and impressions were very interesting.

I did not realise that the People’s Liberation Army actually did most of the slaughtering in the side alleys leading off the square, where the narrow streets were turned into shooting galleries, and people were injured and killed by bullets flying through thin walls.

I was also unaware of the fact that this episode in the history of China has largely gone missing from public record, and a new generation has grown up unaware of the atrocities committed. Banyan of The Economist has also reported in his article this week “The Party goes on” on the effective white-washing of the incident by the Chinese Government, and noted the fact that modern youth will look to this year’s military parade with a sense of pride in a symbol of Chinese resurgence and power.

I wondered why I hadn’t had a discussion on this topic with my numerous Chinese friends here in the UK.

I applaud the courage of the students and workers, and mourn the unnecessary loss of life. I note that 20 years on the Politburo hasn’t changed its modus operandi much.

Celebrating four years of running this blog, and the BBC Poetry Season on at the moment, I’ll link to an old post from this blog from May 2005:- State of Mind.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams
your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And - which is more - you’ll be a Man, my son!

I’ve spoken about the Great last.fm internet radio station before. Yesterday I heard Joe Bonamassa playing ‘Blues Deluxe’ live, and went straight on to play.com. He absolutely shreds the guitar in wailing howls.

I first heard Bonamassa, and ‘Blues deluxe’ but not the live version, on Planet Rock. Where he is a DJ. Speaking of Planet Rock, I don’t know if I mentioned Alice Cooper, but he DJs there as well, in the mornings. The guy has the driest sense of humour ever, and is always cracking me up.

I’m also really loving the song by La Roux constantly played on the radio- “Going in for the kill”

The new bike (yes, I went in to Cycle Logic in Chorlton last Saturday morning to get my old bike’s crank fixed, and ended up with a shiny new blue Falcon Colorado) is handling well, it’s a large beast and harder work than my old Tornado because it’s heavier and grippier.

Going hiking again early Sat; Hannah’s friend Nick, back from Aus-trah-lia, will be joining.

Very enjoyable hike with the Manchester Uni Hiking Club on Sat; gorgeous views around Edale from Kinder Plateau. Bit of rain towards the end but otherwise smashing weather. Nice little pub at the end.

Finished reading Iain M. Banks’ State of the Art. I can see where his big ideas have emerged from in this short story collection.

Finally got my Doppelganger CD; my first purchase off play.com.

Bicycle needs fixing. Football tonight and the pedals are coming off!

Great shows by BBC recently; I really enjoyed Horizon’s How Violent Are You? with Michael Portillo’s take on violence residing in us all yesterday. Also have to mentioned; South Pacific, Coast and The Weather.

Driving up to Scotland Tuesday.

Been reading a lot of poetry on the train recently. I’ll leave you with one by Arthur Hugh Clough (1819-61) that describes the forlorn but valiant hope during the Great World War. I love “If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars”.

SAY not the struggle naught availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke conceal’d,
Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright!

Looking forward to the 16 km in the Peaks tomorrow!!

Continuing from the previous post, I’ve also decided to post one of Carol Ann Duffy’s poems as a salute; more are available (but not the adult ones it seems) to read from this school website William Howard School:

We Remember Your Childhood Well

Nobody hurt you Nobody turned off the light and argued
with somebody else all night. The bad man on the moors
was only a movie you saw. Nobody locked the door.

Your questions were answered fully. No. That didn’t occur.
You couldn’t sing anyway, cared less. The moment’s a blur a Film Fun
laughing itself to death in the coal fire. Anyone’s guess.

Nobody forced you. You wanted to go that day. Begged. You chose
the dress. Here are the pictures, look at you. Look at us all,
smiling and waving, younger The whole thing is inside your head.

What you recall are impressions; we have the facts. We called the tune.
The secret police of your childhood were older and wiser than you, bigger
than you. Call back the sound of their voices. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Nobody sent you away. That was an extra holiday, with people
you seemed to like. They were firm, there was nothing to fear.
There was none but yourself to blame if it ended in tears.

What does it matter now? No, no, nobody left the skidmarks of sin
on your soul and laid you wide open for Hell. You were loved.
Always. We did what was best. We remember your childhood well.

I received an e-mail from the Newsnight crew at BBC Two today informing me of Kirsty Wark’s upcoming interview tonight with our first female Poet Laureate in 341 years (congrats!) Carol Ann Duffy, currently of Manchester (woohoo!).

In honour of this acheivement, the Newsnight programme schedule came in haiku form. Here it is in its entirety:-

Spending cuts on mind
Crick and Urban talk defence
Should Trident face axe?

Go to our website
Click on What Would You Cut link
Tell us your cut plan

Sri Lanka crisis
Looking at new attack claim
Did troops bomb haven?

Carol Ann Duffy
First time female laureate
Talks to Kirsty Wark

Please join us tonight
10.30pm on Two
That’s BBC Two

Quote of the day from a newsagent in Bolton when asked if he had a copy of the latest Economist:

“You won’t find The Economist in Bolton mate.”

To a follow up question regarding the availability, for purchase, of a copy of New Scientist he said:

“Same.”

Imagine a popular (once-popular but still famous, perhaps) family board-game. Let’s say, Monopoly. Pleasant enough entertainment for a rainy afternoon indoors, one might imagine. After all, the opportunity to triumph over one’s fellow contestants must set one’s blood coarsing.

But imagine a game of monopoly where this important, indeed central, element is absent! The game is interminable; with the possibility of triumph removed is devoid of any purpose and pleasure. Now imagine, if you can, not even playing such an accursed game, but being compelled to witness somebody else play this game! And play it badly! Moreover, being compelled for over eight and a half hours a day, five days a week to witness this, imagine still that you are powerless to even comment on the futility and absurdity of it all!

This must be torture indeed!

While flicking through the telly yesterday I caught sight of an advert that looked a lot like those ads for slim cigarettes we used to see. By which I mean cool, sophisticated lifestyle ads.

I did a double take when I undertood what was actually being advertised. It was an injection! Yes ladies and gentlefolk, we now have an advert for a cosmetic injection on our tellies at 9 o’clock in the evening! The Juvederm Ultra is marketed as the “gentler, comfortable injection” which means that they have somehow acheived what years of medical science has not been able to!

I haven’t checked, but I’m sure it contains some kind of pseudo-scientific “PRO-something” or “ANTI-something” or “DERMA-something “”technology” or “bacteria” or some other hoax.

Oh, and it’s available from your nearest “medical aesthetic practitioner”; whatever that pseudo-job title actually means.

Take me away from here!!!!!!

Crammed a lot of action in since my last post.

So, in no particular order:-

Went Ape at Go Ape in Poole’s Cavern, Buxton. Fellow chimps were Saadia and Nina. Tarzan’s leap and zip-lining backwards are highlights, vids of us being daft should be up on Arsebook soon enough. You must have a go, see website goape.co.uk (NOT gape.co.uk) Pub lunch in Buxton, Chicken pasta Alfredo washed down with a pint of Abbot’s Ale. And roast dindin at Saadia’s later with Ioan, Jess and Rob to say bye-byes to Nina going back to Germany to work so the Euro funding can continue to flow.

Lounge 31 in town got a look-in over the weekend with Rob and Kenyan mates after lubrication in Chorlton’s The Pub got a bit out of hand.

Belter of a footie match, no not United/Porto, but the Scouse/Chelski one. Chelski through on aggregate 7-5 after the 4-4 thriller. United are also in the semis, obviously! (Who was all - “No English team has ever one in Portugal before”?) Oh, almost forgot, I went to see the Man U Porto one last week!

Also had BBQ at the Verdelis’s, a half sunny-half rainy affair, feeding fishies to the cat. We all had a good chin wag and went bowling at Parrs Wood later, where I won once!!

Website designing is back with a bang, rattandirect.co.uk should be up and running just in time for when our ad comes out in glam rag Lancashire Life. Signs are going up next week. Photo shoot needs completing now the studio lights and tripod are here. CRM needs beta-testing. Real Biz Dev is finally happening.

Oh, and trying to dust and arrange all the music I own in Compact Disc format. Hercules had it easy, I tell thee!

Here’s an unusual post. Even for me.

I often listen to a song and remember a person who introduced me to that music, or was around when I heard it. Now I owe a lot to other people influencing me during my formative years for my eclectic (well, if not eclectic, then wide-ranging) taste in music. So I decided to list the song-person links that I can remember (work ongoing). I’ve of course left my sister out because we share way too many songs.

Dire Straits/Clapton - Our Man (Rajiv Menon)
Frank Zappa - Thomas Majlath
Slayer - Khaled
Rush - Akki
Bad Company - Shivani Sharma
Faith No More/Mr. Jones (Counting Crows) - Lena Subbotina
Angie (Rolling Stones) - Alicia
Holy Smoke (Iron Maiden) - Hubert D’Mello
Try (Nelly Furtado) - Lena Kubin
Ojos de Brujo - Lara Lopez
Lady Jane (Queensryche) - Crazy Russian Fella who had to sing this every time

and finally

Ghulam Ali/Simon&Garfunkel/Mehdi Hassan/Stevie Wonder/Cat Stevens - Dad

——–continuous update———

Getting away with it (James) - Ioannis Verdelis
Demis Roussos - Konstantinos Charalampous
Beirut Hal Zarafat (Fairouz), Halleluljah (Jeff Buckley), Canto della Terra (Andrea Bocelli) - Ali
Estrella Morente - Raul Martin

Has been a long weekend. Saturday’s drive to Brighton / Eastbourne and back was exhausting, and having woken up at 5 am I had planned to hit the sack early. Then at 10 I get a call to go to Fallowfield for ‘trinken’ at The Gin Club w Ioan, Jess, Hannah and Kat. Had a few caipirinhos and mojitos and made it home for 3 am. After 4 hours sleep it was up again to head to the Peak district. We did the Longdendale Trail in glorious weather, and rounded it off with a great pub lunch in the Peel’s Arms, Padfield (with Doom Bar ale, Sharps Brewery). Still have to finish reading/correcting Karen’s 200-page PhD dissertation that I started on the Saturday drive.

Oh, and obviously I’m off to see the Man United v Porto match today; should be great after the heart-stopper 3-2 against Villa on Sunday. Last-minute wonder-goal scorer Macheda will start on the bench, I’m told.

After reading the (almost interminable) introductions and prefaces and forewords I got to start Homer’s The Odyssey as translated by Mr. E.V. Rieu and introduced by Mr. Peter Jones.

One thing that struck me most was how similar in style it felt to Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Especially the bits with the “rosy-fingered Dawn” (even though I was forewarned, if I never hear that phrase again it’ll be too soon) and “godlike people” served by “faithful servants”. Now I’m not accusing Homer of ‘lifting’ from Tolkien; apparently Homer may have been blind and not that good at reading anyway. But the similarities are there, and perhaps this repetition of adverbs is the crux of what good story-telling is all about. More of this later.

I am currently a bit puzzled about the relationship between “Zeus’ daughter” Helen (back from Troy, the little slut) and “auburn-haired” Menelaus though; it’s all sweet words saying how she was such a bitch and walked around the wooden horse trying to get the soldiers killed, etc.

An interesting concept I found at the Visual Complexity website: A heat map of a city that highlights streets according to the frequency of mention the street gets in the media. It’s called City Murmur, which I believe is a very apt name. At the moment they have only done Madrid, and I’m not even sure if there are plans to take this any further. But it is another beautiful merge if geography with information. You can select the type (newspaper, blog, etc.) and theme (education, immigration, etc.) of media articles that have mentioned the streets.

Take a look at the very attractive website at http://madrid.citymurmur.org

I was searching online for a poster of the famous ‘Earthrise’ photo taken by the Apollo 8 mission, Christmas Eve 1968, when I came across these lines by T.S. Eliot in a related Guardian article.

‘We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.’

They’re taken from ‘Little Gidding’, the last of the ‘Four Quartets’. I believe these lines perfectly sum up the human spirit and our space endeavours.

I will light the match this morning, so I won’t be alone
Watch as she lies silent, for soon light will be gone
I will stand arms outstretched, pretend I’m free to roam
Oh, I will make my way, through, one more day in Hell…
How much difference does it make?
How much difference does it make?

I’ll swallow poison, until I grow immune
I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room
How much difference?
How much difference does it make?

-from Pearl Jam’s second album ‘Vs.’, October 1993.

Garbage In Garbage Out

Employee:- “Our Risk Management Software says your idea is too risky”
Boss:- “Try reducing one of the inputs”
Employee:- “Which one?”
Boss:- “Honesty”

Thanks to Dilbert once again!

Went to the Ladybower reservoir in the Upper Derwent Valley, Peak District on Sunday to do the walk along the High Peak ridge, see the Lost Villages, up to Back Tor and then down to Bamford House, through Derwent along the reservoir and back to the car. Co-hikers were Ioan, Jessy, Saadia and Rob.

The reservoirs in the Upper Derwent Valley are most famous for the fact that they were used by RAF’s 617 Squadron, the Dambusters, to practice their famous Dambuster raid against the Ruhr dams in Germany in 1943. The movie “The Dambusters” was also filmed here.

The hike was exhilarating, snow was predicted but we managed to avoid bad weather on the ascent. All was going swimmingly and jokingly until we reached the exposed moors on the ridges, when we had the fortune to see grouse flapping about and wonderful rock formations. We also saw vicious sleet coming horizontally, sometimes even upwards! My ‘Lifesystems ™’ 100 dB Mountain Whistle, bought at the princely sum of £3.50 and indestructible (Salesperson: “It can even be stepped upon!”), stopped working, leaving us with no method of summoning that rescue helicopter should we have needed it.

And then we sat in a little hollow to consume a modest lunch, when suddenly things turned nasty. The temperature dropped without warning and we lost good men to hypothermia.

We finally made our way down with a huge group of hikers, who had come all the way from Liverpool by coach just to be miserable somewhere other than where they usually are, I suppose.

Hot chocolate and brandy was at the wonderful Ladybower Inn, with great atmosphere and food, and homemade ice-cream. We made it in just in time before a blizzard hit and obliterated everything for 15 minutes.

And for the next adventure, I recommend the BBC’s excellent Railway Walks on disused and abandoned railway tracks that criss-cross the UK, which the even more excellent “hiker’s totty” Julia Bradbury showcased on telly yesterday.

In his article on micro-credit, the Undercover Economist Tim Harford asks “Does no-one want to take money from the poor?”

An interesting quote:

The trouble with living on two dollars a day is that you don’t actually get two dollars a day. One day you might get five, then nothing for the next three days. Income is unpredictable. Outgoings, too, are irregular. Emergencies crop up. Under the circumstances, the most basic financial product, such as an easy-access savings account, would be invaluable.

Obvious perhaps, but something I had never given thought to.

According to Science, Medicine and Bioelectrical Impedence Analysis (a coin-operated machine in ASDA) I have a Fat Index of 23.1%.

This means of the 89 kilogrammes of mass I’m lugging around, 20.5 kilogrammes is pure fat. In old money that’s 3 stone 3 pounds of quivering, translucent jelly.

At a density of around 0.9 grams per mil, the volume of this fat: Volume = Mass / Density = 20500 / 0.9 = 22777 ml is equivalent to a 22 litre bag. For comparison see the excellent FUXIN mini fridge. (A product of a company whose motto is FUXIN TECHNOLOGY ‘Creat together, All-Win, Share’. Bless those ruddy Communists).

And on to another Ryan: My old friend and drumming guru Ryan Colaco had his dream come true over the weekend when his metal band ‘Kryptos’ headlined for the Iron Maiden ‘Somewhere Back in Time 2009′ tour in Bangalore.

Ryo has been a long-standing fan of Maiden drummer Nicko and way back when my sis was in the group ‘Angel Dust’ they honed their talents together playing a lot of Iron Maiden covers. My favourites are still ‘Aces High’ and ‘Hallowed be thy Name’ because of them.

Ryo has posted some pics of him and Maiden on facebook.

20 Feb update: Iron Maiden were announced “Best British Live Act” at the Brits on Wednesday. They released this article on their website to announce it, and in the accompanying photo Bruce Dickenson (in the middle clutching the statuette) is wearing a Kryptos ‘Ark of Gemini’ t-shirt!

“Giggs, Giggs will tear you apart, again”

Seems like the movement to support Manchester United’s evergreen hero Ryan Giggs, OBE for this year’s Footballer of the Year award is growing in momentum.

I personally think there is no better footballer on and off the pitch today.

He’s the most decorated player in English history. His haul includes 10 Premier League winner’s medals, 4 FA Cup Winner medals, 2 Champion’s League Winner medals and 2 League Cup Winner meals. This is not including the 5 more winner’s medals he’ll get this season

He has stayed with the same club throughout his career in a time when footballers switch loyalties faster than they crash their Ferraris.

He has never been sent off the pitch in his entire club career. This in a club record 788 appearances so far!

Yesterday I went to listen to a debate on this topic at Manchester University’s Whitworth Hall. It is the same grand hall I received my post grad honours in. The debate was organised by the Centre for New Writing and the debators were the writers Martin Amis and Howard Jacobson.

I’ve been a long-standing fan of Amis (his autobiography ‘Experience’ is the only one of an author I’ve ever read) and was delighted when he came to Manchester as the Professor of Creative Writing at Manchester Uni in February 2007.

I’ll jot down the key points of the debate as an aide memoire for posterity.

Host intro: The Labour Party phases of Britain 1) Cool Britannia - pop, art. 2) Multicultural Britain - Zadie Smith’s ‘White Teeth’. 3) Return of the Empire, Britain Day - Kipling.

Amis: Death of the comic novel.

(…to be continued)

Literally.

I was rather surprised by this little news item that popped up on tea-time telly yesterday regarding the stationer W.H.Smith. Apparently they have discontinued their ‘Playboy’ line of school stationery that was being purchased, amongst others, by primary school girls.

What I don’t understand is how the decision was made to launch this line in the first place. Was it National Straw-for-Brains Week? Imagine the electric brainstorming session at W.H.Smith Product Development and Marketing!

Alex: “Fire away all the words you associate with school, my homies”
Max: “Lunch”
Daryl: “Exams”
Trix: “Playground”
“Bullies”
“Rabbits”
“Playboy”
“Cricket”
“Science projects”
Alex: “Whoa, back it up, back it up. Playboy, you say”
“That’s catchy!”
“We have a winner”
“Everyone knows Playboy”

And apparently there has been pressure on W.H.Smith by parent and consumer groups for years before they retracted the line. What’s to argue? Couldn’t they just apologise, hold their hands up and admit it was daft. This is of course part of a larger debate about sexualising youngsters, and reminds me of a stand-up comedian on telly doing a routine about what slogans can be seen written on kids t-shirts / etc. nowadays.

also known as

“A kidney here, a liver there, it all adds up you know”

We’ve all heard of key-hole surgery. It minimses unsightly scars and is less invasive than the old cut-n-spread technique so beloved of doctors and Viktor Frankenstein. But now you can have ‘natural orifice’ surgery. Here’s the science bit: Doctors at John Hopkins have removed a lady donor’s kidney via her wazoo. Yes, thats via her lady bits. You know, “down there”. The Unmentionables.

Yes indeed. New Scientist is calling it the Final Frontier. No, I’m not making this up.

Here’s a totally random sentence I picked from the blog:

“A string attached to the bag allowed them to pull the bag and kidney out of her vagina.”

I’d pay to see a trick like that. Derren Brown, are you listening?

According to the lead surgeon Robert Montgomery “the procedure could encourage more women to donate their kidneys.” Hmmm….. let’s visit that quote again;

“A string attached to the bag allowed them to pull the bag and kidney out of her vagina.”

Course it will encourage them Dr. Course it will.

Went to watch The Wrestler yesterday, Orange Wednesday and all that. It was going to be Slumdog Millionaire but it was too busy, and there was no way I was going to be able to take my McDonald’ses out of my jacket pockets and scoff them with so many people around.

The movie was engaging and different; it exceeded my expectations because I thought I knew the story and so it would drag on.

A brief synopsis of the plot:

The tale is set in Nazi Germany (as all good films with Oscar pretensions have to be). A much-decorated officer Claus von Stauffenberg (Tom Cruise) in the Waffen-SS falls in love with Hanna Schmitz, a Dutch girl from a Jewish family (Kate Winslet), but he is sent by Wilhelm Keitel on an expedition to Bombay (Mumbai) in India to capture an elusive and endangered rare Mammoth Walrus nicknamed ‘The Wrestler’ (Mickey Rourke in an eye-watering performance. Literally.) Wandering through the slums of Bombay, Claus hears a fable from local quiz-show host Prem Kumar (Anil Kapoor) and realises that the walrus is a very curious case indeed. It is aging backwards, and instead of getting older it is getting younger everyday. This of course is causing all sorts of problems in its relationship with its mate Daisy Fuller (Cate Blanchett as a very convincing female walrus).

Amongst the highlights of the film are the gory 3D effects when a defiant Tuvia (Daniel Craig) emerges from the East European forest hideout he shares with other Jewish war refugees and gets a pickaxe lobbed into his face.

Some or all of the above may be untrue.

Having finished Neil Gaiman’s wonderful collection of twisting tales called “Fragile things” I picked up Stiglitz’s book that was lying on my coffee table. Joseph Stiglitz is an economist, amongst other things a Nobel Prize winner, former World Bank Chief Economist and ex-Chairman of Clinton’s Council of Economic advisors. His 2002 book is called Globalisation and its discontents, I think I’ve reviewed it earlier in these pages. As I flipped through the book again, Jeremy Paxman was chatting with Paul Mason, their economics editor on BBC’s Newsnight. (P.S. And as I later visit the Newsnight website I see that, coincidence of coincidences, Mr. Stiglitz is on the show tonight).

I decided to list some thoughts on aspects of global economics.

Beggar thy neighbour - Globalisation vs Nationalisation is something I have already mentioned in another arena (Sarkozy preventing Sovereign Wealth Funds of other nations from buying up French companies). Stiglitz brings this home very clearly in his examination of protectionist tendencies of so-called “free markets”. Countries that have failed to unite to introduce economic measures together will now do so with national interests put first, as is happening with the UK auto industry as we speak.

Borrowing - All economics is essentially housekeeping. Global economics is housekeeping on a larger scale. This means the same rules apply to both, such as “You can’t have outgo without income”.

Quis custodiet ipsos cutodiare? - Who watches the watchmen, or in this case who regulates the regulators?

Cui bono? - Who benefits? One of the two prime considerations in any good murder mystery is motive. The other is opportunity. Stiglitz says:

…Wall Street regards inflation as the worst thing in the world: it erodes the real value of what is owed to creditors, which leads to increases in interest rates, which in turn lead to declines in bond prices. To financiers, unemployment is far less of a concern.

The next bubble - The Essentials for any bubble are scarcity and demand. Both of these can be artificial. Look for precious resources like water being squeezed next. There’s also money to be made in “Going Green”.

Juggling - In any news feature or documentary, why does the word ‘Globalisation’ have to be accompanied by a clip of a hippie juggling? Watch out for it the next time.

I’ll end by paraphrasing a famous quote.

“Making a speech on economics is a lot like pissing down your leg. It seems hot to you, but it never does to anyone else.”

Look at your hand. If you are male and your index (2nd) finger is longer than your ring (4th) finger, you are a testosterone-driven manimal, and likely to be a successful financial trader.

More info can be found on Tim Harford’s site.

Meanwhile, on the radio this morning I heard someone being described as “…a person whose father stays up all night going through his birth records looking for a loophole”.

Man, that’s gotta hurt!

Last fm radio has dragged up for me names like

Porcupine Tree (Anesthetise)

Demians (Temple)

Coheed and Cambria (The Suffering)

Tera Melos (Melody 3)

Riverside (Out of Myself)

and of course, without which no prog rock list could be complete,

The Fall of Troy (Mouths like Sidewinder Missiles)

Listen up! There’s a whole world of prog rock out there!

Tim Harford does a satirical take on the credit crunch in this response to a Dear Economist letter.

The story revolves around a girl called Consumerella, who wanted to buy lots of pretty things…

Finally back to a wintry Manchester.

Barcelona was great, managed to do a lot more this time around.

List of activities include:

Catching up with Ana, Papitu and Cuca, and having tapas and beer in a Beatles-themed bar.

Making friends with Amelia, (the first person we met therefore by the Rules of Travel an Australian!) and having generous EUR 2.50 mojitos in Ryans on Ample.

Watching Barcelona v Valencia at the Camp Nou (finishing in a 4-0 thrashing for Valencia).

Visiting Castell de Montjuic again via the cable car (not walking this time, phew!).

Looking down from the Estadi Olimpic towards the beautiful Telefonica statue set against an azure blue sky, then walking down to the gorgeous interior and views from Museu Nacional d’ Art Catalunya, Poble Espanyol and Placa Espanya.

Seeing the Sagrada Familia again, taking the lift all the way to the top of the spires and walking down them.

Clubbing at the huge, multi-venue Razzmatazz where I saw Ladyhawke perform live.

Visiting Barcelona Zoo and seeing the angry mutha hippo charging at everyone and everything. The dolphins were also great.

Strolling the Parc Guell till I had Gaudi coming out of my ears.

Consuming Pita Shawarma at Pita Hut, abusing the metro, EUR 1 beers, EUR 3 ciggies, smoking with the Frenchies…

And not to forget, a Mexican-themed visit to the Hotel Aranea!

Just seen this here.

“T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the block,
Not a creature was stirring, thanks to my Glock”