It’s a phrase I even catch myself using, and I despise it. Whose idea was it to turn ‘parent’ into a verb? It implies that it’s something you do to your kids, rather than something you are. And with this implication comes the inevitable pressure to do it right. ‘Parenting advice’ is a huge market now, and from what I can tell, most of the advice out there can be distilled down as follows:
continue reading "Parenting"

As I was at home today I happened to speak with a relative in Australia. OK, it was early evening his time and early morning my time, but he happened to mention that – apart from having had a couple of G&Ts – he was listening to some cheesy Christmas tracks.

This, spookily, got me thinking. I do like some Chrismas songs – carols are good for example – but… and here’s where I think a Shitopedia entry is deserved, WTF is/are ‘Do they know it’s Christmas?’ or ‘Fairytale of New York’ about?! I find it highly unlikely that a muslim child in Somalia is going to understand the relevance of Christmas, and what has a random Irish song about a boat (at its most obvious) got to do with the festive season?

Then there’s Wham.

Oh, and Elton John.

’nuff said I think.

Christmas songs (but not carols!) – shite.

Happy Christmas and/or relevant festive occasion to one and all.

{edit – slapping myself for a superfluous apostrophe}

The Age has produced a fantastic report on the use of management speak in government. We’re quoting them here but click on this link to see the original report:

British bureaucrats have been warned: no more synergies, stakeholders or sustainable communities.

The body that represents the country’s local authorities has told its members to stop using management buzz words, saying they confuse people and prevent residents from understanding what local governments do.

The Local Government Association, whose members include hundreds of district, town and county councils in England and Wales, on Friday sent out a list of 100 “non-words” that it said officials should avoid if they want to be understood.

The list includes the popular but vague term “empowerment,” “coterminosity,” a situation in which two organisations oversee the same geographical area; and “synergies,” combinations in which the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

continue reading "Management Speak Invades Local Government"

“Er, could you fax those signed documents over to me by the close of business?”

“FAX – HELL NO – ITS NOT 1985!”

An obvious entry, but really, nobody likes them, do they?

Traffic wardens per se are not a bad thing. The fundamental problem with a Traffic Warden is their inability to see anything other than black or white (or lines of yellow) – “I’m just stopping for three minutes to unload my car” – TICKET.

Couple that flaw with an appetite for power somewhere on the anti-social side of Genghis Khan, and you see that we have a real social ill developing.

Enough said.

Traffic Wardens: ‘nobody likes us, we don’t care.’

Having been resoundingly lambasted for several of my recent posts, I’d like to make it clear that I actually like Deal or No Deal. As the title of this website suggests, though, even the best things in life can be shit. Deal or No Deal certainly has some shitty aspects.

Infuriating, even.

I’m talking, here, about the UK version of Deal or No Deal, which is aired on Channel 4 in a mid afternoon / early evening (or later on More 4 or E4 or some other version of 4 if you actually have a job) – not the Australian version, which I have also watched, and from which I can gather that the game can be played entirely differently (if not in as good a way).

Here are my problems with Deal or No Deal:

1. Noel Edmonds;
2. The emotional energy that contestants seem to invest in what is essentially a game of absolute chance.

I’ll pick up on my second point – having, as I mentioned, witnessed Deal or No Deal being played in Australia, I have seen a far more straightforward approach to what is, at its very core, a straightforward game: opening boxes at random.

However, we Brits feel the need to attach as much emotion to this game as we can; we feel the need to use “special numbers”; we simply need this money because “my grandad’s dog just died of leukemia” (or some other self-pitying rationale); we won’t pick that box because its our “friend” or “I just have this feeling about number 16 today”.

Utter claptrap.

It’s a game of chance.

Its funny how seemingly intelligent, rational human beings can suddenly regress into paganistic superstition as soon as their name is selected and they carry their little red box to the front of the studio. But thats not the worst of it – I can tolerate a bit of quaint number choice, however, the self-indulgence is something else.

We get life stories; tales of how people are “doing it for their kids”; family photos and all manner of other crap. Honestly, at Noel’s little interview (which has, over time, grown and grown to take up the entire first quarter of the show) we get all sorts of deeply personal (if not irrelevant) information, and have the displeasure of learning about some nobodies family circumstances: WE DON’T CARE, JUST GET ON WITH OPENING THE BOXES. It is as if, having been handed their fifteen minutes of fame (or even an hour), the contestent wants to milk the moment for everything, leaving us all feeling a little violated.

Its not about you!

Just watch how much love there is in the room here – too much:

Deal or No Deal (UK) an episode of Oprah, followed by some meaningful box opening.

Banana flavoured foods are horrible.

There are some flavours that simply cannot be replicated, and banana is one of them – think about it, banana milkshake, banana yoghurt, banana angel delight, and – my personal favourite – banana medicine.

Imagine the scene – I, a seven year old boy, with a mild illness am being treated by an elderly male doctor:

Doctor: We’re going to give you some medicine.

Child: OK.

Doctor: Obviously, you’ll want the banana flavour, what with being a young boy and all.

Child: Erm, no thanks Doc, I’d rather have plain old medicine or, if possible, tablets.

Doctor: But banana flavour medicine is just like banana milkeshake – its loverly!

Child: Doc, not to put too fine a point on it, banana milkshake is god-awful, and banana flavour medicine is medicine flavoured banana milkeshake – it’s Lucifer’s elixir.

Doctor: Okay, banana flavour medicine it is (writes out prescription)

Child: Thanks Doctor

The conversation may not actually have played out like that, but it proves my point: there is no banana flavoured product in the world that tastes at all nice.

The only banana flavoured thing that does taste good, is a banana.

Every now and then, a fashion or style comes along that leaves sensible people the world over shaking their heads in disbelief. One of the worst, and most frustratingly here-to-stay, is the Metrosexual Male.

There are several examples of metrosexual styling, not least in the mish-mash world of sporting celebrity, just think of the following:

• David Beckham (sarongs, long hair, short hair, permatan, etcetera)
• Christiano Ronaldo (greasy ever-changing hairstyles, purse carrying, permatan)
• Dennis Rodman (an early adopter of metrosexual style: coloured hair, hout cuture (i.e. ridiculous) fashion, etc)
• Most soccer players (permatan, straightened hair, pink shirts)

For reasons only known to the world of fashion, some time around the year 2001, men everywhere suddenly decided that hair-straighteners were for them; that moisturiser was a must-have product; and that anyone who didn’t use a sunbed at least once a week was clearly not as special as them. They were wrong.

At the time, I was relatively unconcerned: this must surely disappear as all other fads and fashions are apt, however, it seems, I was wrong.

One can only imagine the bathroom hours that are now entirely wasted by men who, in years gone by, would simply have sprayed a bit of deoderant on and brushed some water through their day old hair-gel.

Now everywhere I look in the city streets, all I can see is baby-faced boys, with highlighted hair, wearing pink, sipping moccha lattes.

Unfortunately, it would seem that metrosexuals are here to stay – there is now a cornucopia of mens health and other such magazines on the market. Even FHM, once the domain of men’s men, now features “products” – by products, I of course mean useless overpriced creams, and shaving products designed to give “that day old stubble look” which are in fact just ordinary soap which costs 20 times the normal price.

The worst aspect of all of this (and this is another aspect which is creeping into society as a whole) is that the metrosexual male has fostered the belief that he is somehow a celebrity. He wants VIP access to nightclubs; to drink the finest champagne; to have the latest and greatest hair care products; and a new hair-do each week. And all of this on a builder’s wages.

Metrosexual males: over-preened, over-tanned and over-drawn.

Sporks: those half spoon, half fork monstrosities.

No reasoned arguments for and against here, I just don’t like them.

Fuel boycotts are utterly useless.

Here’s the premise: fuel (petrol, gasoline) is too expensive, what can we do? Boycott fuel for a day (or a week, or, as the French enjoy so much, block all the fuel trucks in with tractors/wagons)! Then they’ll surely reduce the price. Cash back for all!

Except the issue just isn’t that simple, now, is it?

1. Not buying your fuel for one day, or one week, or even a month, does not reduce the reliance we, as a society, and as individuals, have on petrol and other oil based fuel;
2. Oil is a dwindling resource, basic economics would dictate that an ever increasing demand (more and more people requiring more and more fuel) will lead to an increase in price whether you wait until Tuesday to buy your gas or not;
3. The burning of fossil fuels is a leading contributory factor in climate change (global warming) – this is scientifically proven FACT, despite what some people still try to argue – making fuel cheaper would not help the situation improve (and, no, simply pointing the finger at China, or America, does not absolve YOU from responsibility).

If all the people who get so indignant every time the fuel price increases by a marginal, affordable, amount actually put their heads together to lobby, in some way, for a viable alternative to fossil fuels, perhaps human society could develop in a more sustainable fashion.

Instead, we make knee-jerk reactions and attempt to fight an impossible battle: against time, and market forces.

Am I the only one who sees this as crazy behaviour?

It is precisely the same people who moan and groan the loudest about the price of fuel who will say things like “well the Chinese are the worst greenhouse gas emitters, and they’ll never stop, so I don’t see why I should have to pay £1 per litre.”

A hideous argument, that smacks of the type of selfishness which has seen the world hold back development in the name of profit and the bottom line. Think about it.

Do these people really think we could not have developed a carbon neutral car if we’d put any real effort or thought into it? We have split the atom. We have developed nuclear weapons that have the capability of destroying the Earth, and probably the rest of the solar system too. We have the technology and skill to clone human beings. Do you really believe that we could not have developed a simple electric car?

So this is an open message to anyone who is still suggesting a fuel boycott in order to reduce the price of petrol (gasoline / any other type of fossil fuel):

Shut your mouths. Get some perspective.