The Meaning Of Matter
In honour of the experiments due to take place tomorrow at the CERN laboratories in Switzerland where two beams of subatomic hadrons will be blasted into each other at speeds approaching the speed of light in order to determine the true nature of matter, the universe and God Himself I too have decided to conduct my own particle acceleration experiment from my modest laboratory here in Leamington Spa.
In order to rip apart the very building blocks of existence and unravel the secrets of life at the subatomic level I shall at some point tomorrow, armed with my own homemade Large Hadron Collider (a pea shooter) be firing matter at speeds a little under the speed of light at the back of my boss’s head when he isn’t looking.
I confess that I do not know what will happen when the pea matter collides with the skull matter. I’m hoping that new particles will be created and / or liberated which will give me clues as to how the universe itself began. It is true also that a black hole may open up in the skull matter and small amounts of blood may be seen emerging from the aperture. What this will mean for the future of my own personal existence I do not know though I am certain I can guarantee the continued safety of the rest of you. Do not be afraid.
My friends, we stand upon the brink of a new dawn. A new Aeon is about to begin for all of us.
Fellow citizens of earth I salute you. Wish me luck.
Check out my official blog at: Bloggertropolis
Published Date:
09/09/2008
Modified Date:
09/09/2008
You’re An Embarrassment
Much as I’ve enjoyed Boris Johnson’s various idiosyncratic performances on the BBC’s Have I Got News For You and find it reassuring that even rabid Tories can have a sense of humour (and thus stand a chance of becoming human) I have to say I cringed during the Olympic handover ceremony yesterday.
Am I the only Brit to have found our Olympic reps utterly embarrassing?
Boris looked a complete scruff-bag. Whilst everyone else ponced about in suits so sharp you could slice bacon wafer thin on the lapels Boris shambled about in what looked like one of Patrick Moore’s old cast-offs. His suit plainly didn’t fit him. His trousers looked like they’d collapsed inwards at the knees and the jacket looked like it had been used to smuggle African elephants through Chinese customs. To make it worse Boris sauntered around with his jacket undone, his shirt scruffed up and even slouched around with his hands in his pockets at one point. What must the world have been thinking? Is this the best Britain can offer? Is this Britain’s much rumoured but rarely seen sartorial elegance?
When Boris grabbed the Olympic flag he looked like a tramp on a stick.
And then came our much-vaunted “artistic interpretation”, designed to whet the Olympic village’s appetite for 2012.
Jesus. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life. Is this how we wish to portray ourselves to the world? Double Decker buses. Privet hedges. Umbrellas and David effing Beckham?
Is this a true representation of Britain? Of London? Is this all we amount to? An Austin Powers pastiche of lazy stereotypes and Mary Poppins tomfoolery?
I have real fears for 2012. Fears that we are going to embarrass ourselves hugely.
I can see it now. After the spectacular glories of Beijing the Olympic community will stand agog as they witness London’s Pearly Kings and Queens ‘rolling out the barrel’, gag as they consume their free bargain buckets of whelks and jellied eels, guffaw as Boris Johnson and all the Olympic big-nobs conduct their speeches from within the centre of a giant bouncy castle and all the athletes will compete dressed up as giant dogs and cats in the style of It’s A Knockout. Sooty and Sweep will host the televisual coverage and the relay race will be accompanied by multiple shouts of “He’s behind you…!”
Oh God.
Is it too late to apply for Chinese nationality?
Check out my official blog at: Bloggertropolis
Published Date:
26/08/2008
Modified Date:
26/08/2008
Strange Fruit
It’s confession time, folks. And I am, I admit, a mite embarrassed by this one.
Now, I consider myself to be fairly au fait with new technologies. PCs. MP3s, mobile phones, digital cameras, data projectors, toilet eco flush systems... I’m familiar with the lot and have embraced them within the scope of my everyday existence. I even run a part time web design business for God’s sake. The internet is practically my living room, bedroom and office. But, er, let’s not discuss the bedroom part right here, ok?
So all things considered I’m a bit of a techno-head. A gadget geek.
But for the life of me I just cannot get my head around Blackberry’s. Not the device itself but the name. For some reason I have a real blind spot where the term Blackberry is concerned. No matter what I do it keeps coming out as Blueberry.
To the point where I now actively avoid discussing such devices in public because I know “Blueberry” will just slip out before I can stop it.
Is this how old age begins? Or Alzheimer’s?
Will I wake up next week referring to PCs as WCs? Digital cameras as those new fangled box brownie things?
Is there a help line number I can contact?
Via pigeon post naturally...
Check out my official blog at: Bloggertropolis
Published Date:
16/05/2008
Modified Date:
16/05/2008
Blofeld Is My Next Door Neighbour
It’s not often that my hometown makes the national news (winning Britain In Bloom for the umpteenth time running is never front page material) but when it does it does so with style.
You’ll all no doubt have heard the news of James Bond’s fabled Aston Martin taking an unnecessary nosedive into some picturesque Italian lake on route to the film set of “A Quantum Of Solace”...
Well, it’s with a quantum of pride that I learn that the driver hailed from good old Leamington Spa... our small Midland’s spa town that brought forth such luminaries into the world as Aleister Crowley, Terry Frost and yours truly.
And now we can add Fraser Dunn to that list, the hapless driver who lost control on a steep mountainous Italian bend in wet weather and took out Bond’s trademark wheels big time.
Fraser escaped unharmed (naturally) and merely brushed off his tux as the car was craned out of the drink by Italian contractors. Reports that the lake was filled with remote-controlled sharks with lasers attached to their foreheads are so far unfounded.
Mr Bond himself was unavailable for comment being up to his hips in posh, chest-heavy totty but Blofeld was heard to scream a tirade of curses before pounding his p*ssy to death in angered frustration.
Er...
Or have I got that the wrong way round?
Check out my official blog at: Bloggertropolis
Published Date:
22/04/2008
Modified Date:
22/04/2008
The Homeopath's Guide To Drinking
The wife and I came up with a great way to combine the virtues of homeopathy with the many vices of drinking yesterday.
You take a pint of your favourite tipple – in the wife’s case, vodka – and then add just the tiniest, micro-droplet of orange juice or whatever healthy drink takes your fancy. Basically it’s the same science that lies behind products like Rescue Remedy and Mimulus.
Now your vodka will be imbued with all the goodness and nutritional excellence of orange juice in a way that will be disproportionately more effective than if you’d drunk a whole pint of orange juice on its own.
Absolutely fantastic!
Well... I think that’s the way you’re meant to do it anyway...
Check out my official blog at: Bloggertropolis
Published Date:
09/04/2008
Modified Date:
09/04/2008
Of Doorbells And Telephones
I’m sure that my irascibility this week has been caused by lack of sleep (we're trying to train our 5 month old baby to sleep through the night) but it’s curious to note that it has had some positive effects.
I’ve noticed that during any R&R time that I’ve managed to claw to myself over the last few days I’ve been more reluctant than usual to answer the doorbell or the telephone.
In fact “reluctant” is an understatement.
I’ve just refused outright to do it. And it’s felt absolutely great.
Not that I’m shutting out friends or neighbours you understand – I’m 99.9% positive that most of these would be intruders were cold callers, charity workers and salesmen. You can always tell. Usually I at least open the door and give them a polite no thanks but this week I’ve just ignored them completely – and taken great delight in the fact that the TV and any ambient household conversations were all perfectly audible.
On the occasion that the telephone has rung and I haven’t recognized the number I haven’t answered it. Sorry. Too bad. Not interested. Even if you are Keeley Hawes begging me for a pint, a curry and a tongue sarnie.
It feels wonderful to be free of the slavery to the ring tone.
I’ll communicate when I’m ready to, thanks.
And when I want new windows I’ll do my own research and make my own decision in my own free time.
Until then the drawbridge is pulled up and there are sharks in the moat. Attempt to cross at your peril.
Check out my official blog at: Bloggertropolis
Published Date:
04/04/2008
Modified Date:
04/04/2008
Bin Thief
To the thief who stole my newly delivered garden waste bin within hours of it being delivered on Thursday I'd like to say that I hope your life provides you with enough crap for you to make good use of it...
Published Date:
10/02/2008
Modified Date:
10/02/2008
Breaking The Law! Breaking The Law!
Having opted to take Geography rather than History at school it is hopefully quite understandable why the following intriguing nugget of information completely passed me by until I had the usual post-breakfast conversation with my wife this morning...
Apparently it is officially illegal in England (and possibly the whole of the UK) to celebrate Christmas. A law was set down during the time of Oliver Cromwell declaring that the celebration of Christmas was to be outlawed and it has never ever been repealed. When Charles II, all round funkster, hip-happening-guy and disco king, ascended the throne everybody just thought buggery to Ollie and started celebrating Christmas like there was no tomorrow (i.e. no Boxing Day) and completely forgot about undoing Ollie Crommie’s silly little law.
It still stands.
So. We are all officially breaking the law.
Hmm.
Suddenly the fun element of Christmas has increased a hundred-fold...!
Merry Christmas and merry rebellion one and all!
Check out my official blog at: Bloggertropolis
Published Date:
21/12/2007
Modified Date:
21/12/2007