Soon it will be December, the month of finality.
And it's also the month of mince pies. We've set up a chart at work to record the amount of mince pies brought in. Currently, I'm in joint first place with two points. This means I have brought two lots of mince pies in. Mince!
I like mince pies.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Monday, November 29, 2004
Weird Dreams
Last night I had some fantastically coherent dreams. In one, I met Noel Gallagher in a queue for a gig. He was really nice to chat to. Not sure why he was queueing as Oasis were headlining in the venue. I also had a chat to one of the support bands. Like in real life, I knew them all, but unlike real life, they weren't all who they normally are. Dreams: eh???
The other dream was maybe part of the same one, or maybe different. It was incredibly coherent and could make the basis of a one hour TV show. It never will though, unless someone wants to get in touch and license the inside of my head.
If someone does want to get in touch, then please do. I don't think my idea could run for a whole season, but it could make one great episode.
The other dream was maybe part of the same one, or maybe different. It was incredibly coherent and could make the basis of a one hour TV show. It never will though, unless someone wants to get in touch and license the inside of my head.
If someone does want to get in touch, then please do. I don't think my idea could run for a whole season, but it could make one great episode.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
The Incorrect Way To Use An Advent Calendar
My father brought home a chocolate advent calendar for my mother the other day. This is a gift which should give her great pleasure every day from the 1st December through to either the 24th or the 25th. Well, maybe "great" is a slight exaggeration, but you get the point.
As of teatime on the 27th November, she had scoffed all the chocolates and binned the calendar. That's just wrong.
I'd have got in so much trouble if I'd have done that as a kid.
As of teatime on the 27th November, she had scoffed all the chocolates and binned the calendar. That's just wrong.
I'd have got in so much trouble if I'd have done that as a kid.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Voucher Irritation
I was irritated this morning to find myself on the way to the supermarket having forgotten my voucher to save three pounds when I spent thirty. My irritation was relieved on finding I only spent twenty nine pounds and six pence.
Friday, November 26, 2004
5 Ways I Can Tell I'm Getting Old
1. I had completely forgotten it was the day of the first actuarial exams until I was reminded yesterday evening. They really need to start tightening standards... :-)
2. I find business plans quite exciting.
3. Early nights are also quite exciting.
4. This week I made my first ever official complaint about a planning application. (though thanks to the internet, this did not involve me lying in the mud in front of a yellow bulldozer).
5. I can't even get to number 5 on a list like this without having to cheat.
Friday!
2. I find business plans quite exciting.
3. Early nights are also quite exciting.
4. This week I made my first ever official complaint about a planning application. (though thanks to the internet, this did not involve me lying in the mud in front of a yellow bulldozer).
5. I can't even get to number 5 on a list like this without having to cheat.
Friday!
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Abandoned Bicycle
On the way home today, I passed a bicycle lying on its side in the street. From a distance away, it looked just like a normal bicycle. I thought it was a bit lax of someone to just leave their bike lying there like that - anyone could just ride away with it.
On closer inspection, this was not in fact the case, since the bicycle was missing a front wheel. Anyone attempting to ride it away would have had to be exceptionally good at balancing. This was still a bit strange though, as why would a wheel-less bike be just left lying around? Had someone just stolen a front wheel? Was the bike being stolen by a small weak person who could only carry one part of it at a time? Maybe it was the Borrowers? I was unsure.
When I was at university, bikes were very common and it was not unusual to see single front tyres chained to fences, where people had in fact stolen the entire rest of the bike. I often used to wonder what they did with these one-wheeled entities.
Well, now I have a theory: maybe each of those thieves carefully rides 200 miles north to York, balanced precariously on a one wheeled mountain bike. Upon reaching York, they ride around until they find an abandoned matching bike from which they can steal a matching wheel. They'd then have formed a full bike, and could use it to go to the shops, or to drug deals or whatever it is modern criminals do on bikes.
Yes, I expect that is what happened.
I don't think I'll ever fully understand the criminal mind.
On closer inspection, this was not in fact the case, since the bicycle was missing a front wheel. Anyone attempting to ride it away would have had to be exceptionally good at balancing. This was still a bit strange though, as why would a wheel-less bike be just left lying around? Had someone just stolen a front wheel? Was the bike being stolen by a small weak person who could only carry one part of it at a time? Maybe it was the Borrowers? I was unsure.
When I was at university, bikes were very common and it was not unusual to see single front tyres chained to fences, where people had in fact stolen the entire rest of the bike. I often used to wonder what they did with these one-wheeled entities.
Well, now I have a theory: maybe each of those thieves carefully rides 200 miles north to York, balanced precariously on a one wheeled mountain bike. Upon reaching York, they ride around until they find an abandoned matching bike from which they can steal a matching wheel. They'd then have formed a full bike, and could use it to go to the shops, or to drug deals or whatever it is modern criminals do on bikes.
Yes, I expect that is what happened.
I don't think I'll ever fully understand the criminal mind.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Phone calls are like buses
I was chatting to someone at work today about how nobody ever phones me on my mobile phone. I walked away and went back to my desk, and literally a minute later I got a call. And then another one 10 minutes later (albeit from the same person). And then another one once I got home.
Tomorrow I plan to chat someone about how I don't have a girlfriend.
Although three would be excessive. Maybe I should be careful what I talk to people about. Perhaps there are special wishing people people out there who when you talk to them give you what you want. Like genies without the bottles and the obscure wish restriction rules.
Tomorrow I plan to chat someone about how I don't have a girlfriend.
Although three would be excessive. Maybe I should be careful what I talk to people about. Perhaps there are special wishing people people out there who when you talk to them give you what you want. Like genies without the bottles and the obscure wish restriction rules.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
The Biro Issue
So I was in a meeting today with some people I'd (mostly) not met before. Quite an important meeting, but not one where I needed to try hugely to impress. But on the other hand, I was keen to avoid looking like a complete doofus. I can save that for when they know me better. Anyway, I'd taken along my favoured meeting pen of choice, a 20p, work issue, Black Bic Crystal Biro, medium tip. It's a good workhorse of a pen. You know where you are with a Crystal Bic. And perhaps more importantly, you know when it's going to run out since you can see right through into the ink reservoir.
So near the start, one of the main guys, I'll call him J (since that's not his name - unless it is), spots I have a pen and that he has none, and then furthermore realises he needs a pen to write notes and can't, because he does not have a pen. Quite reasonably, he asks if he may borrow my pen. I say yes. It's just a black Bic, I'm not particularly attached to it in any way, it has no emotional resonance and it is in no sense a "lucky" pen. So I let J use my pen. I expect he was really grateful for this unexpected act of kindness, in fact, I could tell he was by the twinke in his smile.
I now didn't have a pen, but that's ok, I hadn't planned to write anything anyway. I'd only taken the pen along for appearances.
The meeting passes sucessfully.
At the end, I notice J has stuffed my biro into his filofax. This was not good as it put me in something of a dillemma. I could either
a) Ask for my biro back. Everyone would see me do this, and would think "My, what a cheapskate, asking for a 20p biro back. Surely he doesn't have any emotional attachment to a cheap pen like that one?". I would look like an utter cheapskate asking for my 20p biro back like that. Some people who may not have seen me lend the biro in the first place, might even suspect me of trying to con poor, dimwitted, J out of a pen he had brought along himself. Not that J is dimwitted. They just might think he was if he let himself be conned out of a biro in such an obvious way.
b) Pretend I hadn't noticed that J still had my pen, and let him close his filofax and walk away with my lovely possesion, albeit one that only cost 20p. If anyone noticed that this had happened, they'd no doubt think "My, what a weak spineless, unassertive boy he is! Why on earth didn't he ask for his own pen back?". And they'd be right, for surely J could not object to handing back an item he had unwittingly stolen. But in this scenario, he takes the pen and never even realises he's done wrong. I leave penless due to my spineless lack of assertiveness.
There was only a split second for all this to go through my mind. In this time I carefully weighed the options. a)... or... b)... or... a)... or... b)... or... and so on. I chose. I made my decision. Now I'd have to live with this decision for the rest of my life.
I said to J: "Can I have my pen back please?". He said "Ok" and passed me the pen. Nobody else was paying attention.
So I think that worked out alright.
Although I suspect J does think I'm a cheapskate for claiming back the 20p pen that he coveted.
So near the start, one of the main guys, I'll call him J (since that's not his name - unless it is), spots I have a pen and that he has none, and then furthermore realises he needs a pen to write notes and can't, because he does not have a pen. Quite reasonably, he asks if he may borrow my pen. I say yes. It's just a black Bic, I'm not particularly attached to it in any way, it has no emotional resonance and it is in no sense a "lucky" pen. So I let J use my pen. I expect he was really grateful for this unexpected act of kindness, in fact, I could tell he was by the twinke in his smile.
I now didn't have a pen, but that's ok, I hadn't planned to write anything anyway. I'd only taken the pen along for appearances.
The meeting passes sucessfully.
At the end, I notice J has stuffed my biro into his filofax. This was not good as it put me in something of a dillemma. I could either
a) Ask for my biro back. Everyone would see me do this, and would think "My, what a cheapskate, asking for a 20p biro back. Surely he doesn't have any emotional attachment to a cheap pen like that one?". I would look like an utter cheapskate asking for my 20p biro back like that. Some people who may not have seen me lend the biro in the first place, might even suspect me of trying to con poor, dimwitted, J out of a pen he had brought along himself. Not that J is dimwitted. They just might think he was if he let himself be conned out of a biro in such an obvious way.
b) Pretend I hadn't noticed that J still had my pen, and let him close his filofax and walk away with my lovely possesion, albeit one that only cost 20p. If anyone noticed that this had happened, they'd no doubt think "My, what a weak spineless, unassertive boy he is! Why on earth didn't he ask for his own pen back?". And they'd be right, for surely J could not object to handing back an item he had unwittingly stolen. But in this scenario, he takes the pen and never even realises he's done wrong. I leave penless due to my spineless lack of assertiveness.
There was only a split second for all this to go through my mind. In this time I carefully weighed the options. a)... or... b)... or... a)... or... b)... or... and so on. I chose. I made my decision. Now I'd have to live with this decision for the rest of my life.
I said to J: "Can I have my pen back please?". He said "Ok" and passed me the pen. Nobody else was paying attention.
So I think that worked out alright.
Although I suspect J does think I'm a cheapskate for claiming back the 20p pen that he coveted.
Monday, November 22, 2004
The Animated Tale of PTHIX: Yikes!
The following post has been sent in by Fred from Scooby Doo - he's asked me to share it with you lot. Take it away Fred!
Hello world! I'm Fred from Scooby Doo (you know, the cool blonde one). Last Thursday, after months of preparation and hard thinking and drinking, it was finally the day of the Ninth Actuarial Pub Treasure Hunt, or PTHIX. This time it was being organised by myself and the rest of the Scooby Gang, with a general cartoony theme. We were hoping to see lots of our toon friends out in York, having a good time and getting a little merry. Unfortunately, things started badly. Shortly after me, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and the two dogs had arrived in York in the Mystery Machine, Scooby Doo got kidnapped!
This was not what we had planned. To be honest, if it was Scrappy that had been stolen, we wouldn't have bothered to search. But Scoob's different. He's like family. Hell, to Shaggy he's like a wife. Luckily, we had a secret weapon to help up us get him back. Well, not so much a weapon, more an army. Twenty teams of toons, desperate to help us get our favourite dog back.
Here's a picture of me and Shaggy at the start. Don't let our smiles decieve you: we are actually quite worried.
The girls and Scrappy were also quite worried:
One by one, we beckoned the teams to the table and gave them their instructions. Would they be able to decipher the cryptic clues to discover the identity of the kidnapper and the location where Scoob was being held? Would they be able to answer the many trivia questions to prove their cleverness? Would they be able to drink, drink, drink and still walk? Would they find any good Treasure to bring back to us? And most importantly, would they be able to keep hold of their unique fruit or vegetable (from raisin to watermelon, and all sizes in between) that they won in the First Scooby Doo Fruit & Veg Raffle? Only time would tell.
It took the best part of a couple of hours to send everyone on their way, but eventually we found ourselves with empty beer glasses and hungry stomachs. Dinner time. Shaggy agreed to eschew the traditional abandoned empty mountainside kitchen, and instead we opted for Thai. During the meal, I asked for a doggy bag for Scrappy but they just laughed at me.
Towards the end of the meal, we received a tip-off that the real identity of the kidnapper was not what it appeared. In fact, the whole thing had been masterminded by evil Rolf Harris! I tried to inform the teams of this, but due to some magic, my text message ended up being encoded with their quiz sheets. A final piece of the puzzle for the teams to wrestle with. Not to worry, that wasn't my problem, and the meal was lovely and most welcome.
We began to meet the teams in the prearranged meeting place, the hostelry known as Thomas's. Our friends had journeyed far and wide around York, and some had found evidence of where Scooby was being held, enough so that by the end of the evening, we were able to rescue the poor little doggy and have Nasty Rolf incarcerated at her majesty's pleasure, where he remains to this day.
There was much partying and drinking and revelling and carousing. But I had to decline the offer of a trip clubbing, mainly due to having tonnes of stuff to carry home. Scrappy went though, and as far as I'm aware, didn't get into a single fight! Shaggy took Scooby Doo home to recover.
It took us a few days to finish off the marking, mainly because most of the rest of the gang were unavailable at the weekend. But finally, we were able to crown a winner: Some of the Wacky Racers had been able to take time off from the racing calendar and come down to York for the evening:
They scored well across the board in most categories and ended with a mighty 199 points, 15 clear of second the second place team (a team of toons united only by their small-animalness: Dangermouse and Penfold, Jess the Cat and Minnie Mouse). And just behind them, was Evil Dick Dastardly, as ever failing to quite beat the more fair-playing Racers.
As a special treat, we gave all teams the opportunity to eat a lovely dog biscuit when they returned to us. They were Scrappy's favourite brand, as you can see below:
A final word from Scrappy Doo: "Buy yummy Bonio dog biscuits! For Puppy Power! Yum!"
And a final word from me, Fred from Scooby Doo: Bye folks!
And so ends Fred's message. Well, it sounds like people had a good time - shame I had to miss it. I'd have liked to have seen the Smurf dancing too (I'm not sure Fred was aware he'd missed something so exciting!) This has been the third PTH of the year, so it's hopefully time for a short rest. But the next one is due to be the first actuarial pub treasure hunt not organised by Actuarial (Hello the girls from Marketing!), which should maybe breathe some fresh life and new ideas into things.
Hello world! I'm Fred from Scooby Doo (you know, the cool blonde one). Last Thursday, after months of preparation and hard thinking and drinking, it was finally the day of the Ninth Actuarial Pub Treasure Hunt, or PTHIX. This time it was being organised by myself and the rest of the Scooby Gang, with a general cartoony theme. We were hoping to see lots of our toon friends out in York, having a good time and getting a little merry. Unfortunately, things started badly. Shortly after me, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and the two dogs had arrived in York in the Mystery Machine, Scooby Doo got kidnapped!
This was not what we had planned. To be honest, if it was Scrappy that had been stolen, we wouldn't have bothered to search. But Scoob's different. He's like family. Hell, to Shaggy he's like a wife. Luckily, we had a secret weapon to help up us get him back. Well, not so much a weapon, more an army. Twenty teams of toons, desperate to help us get our favourite dog back.
Here's a picture of me and Shaggy at the start. Don't let our smiles decieve you: we are actually quite worried.
The girls and Scrappy were also quite worried:
One by one, we beckoned the teams to the table and gave them their instructions. Would they be able to decipher the cryptic clues to discover the identity of the kidnapper and the location where Scoob was being held? Would they be able to answer the many trivia questions to prove their cleverness? Would they be able to drink, drink, drink and still walk? Would they find any good Treasure to bring back to us? And most importantly, would they be able to keep hold of their unique fruit or vegetable (from raisin to watermelon, and all sizes in between) that they won in the First Scooby Doo Fruit & Veg Raffle? Only time would tell.
It took the best part of a couple of hours to send everyone on their way, but eventually we found ourselves with empty beer glasses and hungry stomachs. Dinner time. Shaggy agreed to eschew the traditional abandoned empty mountainside kitchen, and instead we opted for Thai. During the meal, I asked for a doggy bag for Scrappy but they just laughed at me.
Towards the end of the meal, we received a tip-off that the real identity of the kidnapper was not what it appeared. In fact, the whole thing had been masterminded by evil Rolf Harris! I tried to inform the teams of this, but due to some magic, my text message ended up being encoded with their quiz sheets. A final piece of the puzzle for the teams to wrestle with. Not to worry, that wasn't my problem, and the meal was lovely and most welcome.
We began to meet the teams in the prearranged meeting place, the hostelry known as Thomas's. Our friends had journeyed far and wide around York, and some had found evidence of where Scooby was being held, enough so that by the end of the evening, we were able to rescue the poor little doggy and have Nasty Rolf incarcerated at her majesty's pleasure, where he remains to this day.
There was much partying and drinking and revelling and carousing. But I had to decline the offer of a trip clubbing, mainly due to having tonnes of stuff to carry home. Scrappy went though, and as far as I'm aware, didn't get into a single fight! Shaggy took Scooby Doo home to recover.
It took us a few days to finish off the marking, mainly because most of the rest of the gang were unavailable at the weekend. But finally, we were able to crown a winner: Some of the Wacky Racers had been able to take time off from the racing calendar and come down to York for the evening:
They scored well across the board in most categories and ended with a mighty 199 points, 15 clear of second the second place team (a team of toons united only by their small-animalness: Dangermouse and Penfold, Jess the Cat and Minnie Mouse). And just behind them, was Evil Dick Dastardly, as ever failing to quite beat the more fair-playing Racers.
As a special treat, we gave all teams the opportunity to eat a lovely dog biscuit when they returned to us. They were Scrappy's favourite brand, as you can see below:
A final word from Scrappy Doo: "Buy yummy Bonio dog biscuits! For Puppy Power! Yum!"
And a final word from me, Fred from Scooby Doo: Bye folks!
And so ends Fred's message. Well, it sounds like people had a good time - shame I had to miss it. I'd have liked to have seen the Smurf dancing too (I'm not sure Fred was aware he'd missed something so exciting!) This has been the third PTH of the year, so it's hopefully time for a short rest. But the next one is due to be the first actuarial pub treasure hunt not organised by Actuarial (Hello the girls from Marketing!), which should maybe breathe some fresh life and new ideas into things.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
A trip to Club Z
After living in York for getting on four years, I last night visited the third (and last) of the city centre nightclubs for the first time. For no particular good reason that I can determine, other than that it seemed like a good idea at the time, we took a trip to Ziggys, or Club Z as it is sometimes known.
Entering it is a bit like going into someone's house. On the left is a living room with some sofas, and then the next door along is some kind of big dining room (with a bar in it). Upstairs and downstairs are more clublike.
It all seemed relatively relaxed, they let you have drinks on the dancefloor, and the music varied from tolerable to good. Certainly better than its reputation would leave one to believe. Though it could have had more nice girls in it.
I went to the toilet at one point and thought it was quite strange that there were no urinals in there, but some places are a bit odd, so I didn't let it phase me too much. After I'd finished, I left the stall, and as I was washing my hands, a girl came into the toilets. Although this was a bit unusual, it is something that happens quite a lot in clubs, as the girls are very slow and often have to queue. Occasionally the more adventurous ones will use the men's toilets to save time. So I just assumed she was being a bit naughty and using the gents because she was desperate.
She looked at me and I looked at her. She said something along the lines of "Why are you in the girls toilets?". I had a moment of realisation, looked embarassed, mumbled something and quickly left.
Well, despite that, a good time was had, even if I was dead on my feet by the end of the evening.
Compare and contrast
Entering it is a bit like going into someone's house. On the left is a living room with some sofas, and then the next door along is some kind of big dining room (with a bar in it). Upstairs and downstairs are more clublike.
It all seemed relatively relaxed, they let you have drinks on the dancefloor, and the music varied from tolerable to good. Certainly better than its reputation would leave one to believe. Though it could have had more nice girls in it.
I went to the toilet at one point and thought it was quite strange that there were no urinals in there, but some places are a bit odd, so I didn't let it phase me too much. After I'd finished, I left the stall, and as I was washing my hands, a girl came into the toilets. Although this was a bit unusual, it is something that happens quite a lot in clubs, as the girls are very slow and often have to queue. Occasionally the more adventurous ones will use the men's toilets to save time. So I just assumed she was being a bit naughty and using the gents because she was desperate.
She looked at me and I looked at her. She said something along the lines of "Why are you in the girls toilets?". I had a moment of realisation, looked embarassed, mumbled something and quickly left.
Well, despite that, a good time was had, even if I was dead on my feet by the end of the evening.
Compare and contrast
Saturday, November 20, 2004
A bit of wet
I noticed that the carpet was a bit wet the other day, just by the door to my kitchen. I wasn't sure where the wet had come from, but I dried it off with Kitchen Roll and went to bed (since it was late at night when I spotted it). It seemed to stay dryish for a few days, but today has gone wet again, so I lifted the edge to look under, and the concrete below did seem to be a little wet too.
So I investigated further and lifted the lino in the kitchen and under that it was really quite wet. Strange... I am assuming that there is a leaky pipe somewhere or something. It doesn't seem to be making huge amounts of water though, so I'm treating it as non-urgent.
But I'm going to have to get a man in to sort it out. Hopefully it'll be covered by the 10 year new homes guarantee that my flat is still under.
I have accidentally ripped the kitchen floor (a little bit) though when I was pulling it up. Whoops clumsy me. On a plus side, once I get the wet sorted, maybe this will finally inspire me to get the new hard flooring I've been claiming I was going to get since I moved in eighteen months ago.
----------
Update:
Hmmm, after some inspection of my documents it seems that the guarantee probably doesn't cover this sort of thing (though I'm sure my insurance would).
Ok, here's my plan of action then:
1. Tomorrow I will remove the lino from the kitchen completely.
2. Then I will allow the floor to dry.
3. Assuming it dries, I will then carry out normal activities until I find something that makes it wet again.
4. Then I will fix that thing.
5. Or get a man in to fix that thing.
6. Then I will replace the floor covering.
If any of that sounds like a bad idea, please tell me as I have no real concept of what I'm supposed to do when faced with these responsible adult type issues.
So I investigated further and lifted the lino in the kitchen and under that it was really quite wet. Strange... I am assuming that there is a leaky pipe somewhere or something. It doesn't seem to be making huge amounts of water though, so I'm treating it as non-urgent.
But I'm going to have to get a man in to sort it out. Hopefully it'll be covered by the 10 year new homes guarantee that my flat is still under.
I have accidentally ripped the kitchen floor (a little bit) though when I was pulling it up. Whoops clumsy me. On a plus side, once I get the wet sorted, maybe this will finally inspire me to get the new hard flooring I've been claiming I was going to get since I moved in eighteen months ago.
----------
Update:
Hmmm, after some inspection of my documents it seems that the guarantee probably doesn't cover this sort of thing (though I'm sure my insurance would).
Ok, here's my plan of action then:
1. Tomorrow I will remove the lino from the kitchen completely.
2. Then I will allow the floor to dry.
3. Assuming it dries, I will then carry out normal activities until I find something that makes it wet again.
4. Then I will fix that thing.
5. Or get a man in to fix that thing.
6. Then I will replace the floor covering.
If any of that sounds like a bad idea, please tell me as I have no real concept of what I'm supposed to do when faced with these responsible adult type issues.
Friday, November 19, 2004
A slight delay
Too tired to write anything sensible. Sorry. Tomorrow, I promise the full story of PTH IX, plus some photos.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Lucky little foxes
It's looking like fox-hunting with dogs will finally be banned by Parliament today. The House of Commons is going to overrule the House of Lords by using The Parliament Act. I find it quite hard to really have an opinion on this one, but at least this should stop the thing coming back around every six months and taking up time that could be used to discuss more important things.
And foxes are quite cute. At least the ones in my head are.
And foxes are quite cute. At least the ones in my head are.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Question time
Before yesterday's wine tasting, there was a Question Time session where us plebs were able to put questions to a panel of Knowledgeable Actuaries. We had been invited to submit questions in advance, but I had not done this due to not thinking of anything early enough. I did think of a question whilst listening to them arguing about pension scheme funding. Here's My Question.
"Over the last weekend, many of today's top pop stars recorded a new version of "Do They Know It's Christmas" to raise money for the poor in Africa. This one, Band Aid 20, is the third version, 20 years after the original. Should actuaries in Ethiopia be sueing Bono and Bob Geldof for doing so much to make invalid the mortality tables they had been comfortably using until 1984?"
Sadly, I didn't get chance to ask it.
"Over the last weekend, many of today's top pop stars recorded a new version of "Do They Know It's Christmas" to raise money for the poor in Africa. This one, Band Aid 20, is the third version, 20 years after the original. Should actuaries in Ethiopia be sueing Bono and Bob Geldof for doing so much to make invalid the mortality tables they had been comfortably using until 1984?"
Sadly, I didn't get chance to ask it.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Drinking from a different cup
Well, since tonight was Tuesday night, it must have been Wine Tasting Night! Not just any Wine Tasting, but Actuarial Wine Tasting! You non-actuaries maybe can't imagine quite the excitement I had. And. Not. Just. Actuarial Wine Tasting, but Competitive Actuarial Wine Tasting (with prizes). Here's the rules:
1. There are eight rounds.
2. In each round you will taste one wine.
3. The first four wines are white.
4. The second four wines are red.
5. There is no rose. That's for girls.
6. In each round, you must determine the country, then the grape, then the region.
7. In that order.
8. 1 point each.
9. The team with most points in each round wins either a) a bottle of the wine you've just tasted; or b) a corkscrew.
10. The team with most points at the end is the overall winner and has a Lot Of Prestige.
We were four teams of six or so... What would follow here would be a blow by blow account of exactly how it went down. But I have neglected to remember all the details. So in summary: Round 1: We won. Round 2: We won. Both these wins were pretty much down to me having very lucky guesses on the country. Rock. Rounds three and four we still got the country right, but other teams had started to get their game together and we lost both rounds. However, we still had a clear two point lead at the end of the white wines.
On to reds. First country we got. But then... Oops. And we failed to win either of the next three rounds. With one round left, three teams had won two bottles, one had won one. Strangely, nobody had chosen the corkscrew option. So far.
One round left, all to play for.
We got one point. It was enough. Other teams also scored one, but we were first to hand our sheet in, which clinched the round for us. Three bottles won, and also we claimed the title of Best Tasters Of Wine (Red and White) October 2004 (Actuarial Section) or BTOW(RW)O04(AS). A prestigious title indeed.
And more importantly, we beat all the other teams, including the one which my boss was in, and the one in which the Second Most Senior Actuary in the company was in. That's not his official job title by the way. This was ok, because new roles had been sorted out against the wall yesterday. I was bound by virtue of drinking from the Cup Of Choosing, and so they could not retrospectively use the fact of me defeating them in a Wine Tasting Competition against me.
1. There are eight rounds.
2. In each round you will taste one wine.
3. The first four wines are white.
4. The second four wines are red.
5. There is no rose. That's for girls.
6. In each round, you must determine the country, then the grape, then the region.
7. In that order.
8. 1 point each.
9. The team with most points in each round wins either a) a bottle of the wine you've just tasted; or b) a corkscrew.
10. The team with most points at the end is the overall winner and has a Lot Of Prestige.
We were four teams of six or so... What would follow here would be a blow by blow account of exactly how it went down. But I have neglected to remember all the details. So in summary: Round 1: We won. Round 2: We won. Both these wins were pretty much down to me having very lucky guesses on the country. Rock. Rounds three and four we still got the country right, but other teams had started to get their game together and we lost both rounds. However, we still had a clear two point lead at the end of the white wines.
On to reds. First country we got. But then... Oops. And we failed to win either of the next three rounds. With one round left, three teams had won two bottles, one had won one. Strangely, nobody had chosen the corkscrew option. So far.
One round left, all to play for.
We got one point. It was enough. Other teams also scored one, but we were first to hand our sheet in, which clinched the round for us. Three bottles won, and also we claimed the title of Best Tasters Of Wine (Red and White) October 2004 (Actuarial Section) or BTOW(RW)O04(AS). A prestigious title indeed.
And more importantly, we beat all the other teams, including the one which my boss was in, and the one in which the Second Most Senior Actuary in the company was in. That's not his official job title by the way. This was ok, because new roles had been sorted out against the wall yesterday. I was bound by virtue of drinking from the Cup Of Choosing, and so they could not retrospectively use the fact of me defeating them in a Wine Tasting Competition against me.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Up against the wall
A while ago I wrote about the restructure that we have been going through at work. Today it finally finished (for me at least).
As we got to work, the actuarial directors didn't let us into the building straight away. Instead, we were made to stand along the outside wall of the office, in a line, with our backs to the wall. It was quite cold, so I was glad of my coat and scarf. We had to stand there for around half an hour until over 90% of the actuarial staff had arrived. At this point, the Actuary King blew a horn, and a trapdoor in the road opened. I think it was not a sewer entrance, but a hitherto secret entrance to the office.
Out of this open pit climbed out, one by one, beasts like I have never seen unto this world before. Beasts of all sizes, of all smells, and of many gaits. Each one of us standing there against the wall was scared for our own lives.
Well, maybe that last paragraph was a slight exagerration... What actually came out of the hole was all the Departmental Heads. And lest you get the wrong idea, they are proper whole people, not just Heads on sticks or in jars or displayed in some other freakish manner. That sort of thing may go on at some other insurance companies, but in York we employ a more civilised kind of Head.
The appointment process was about to begin.
The process was to involve each Head in turn stepping up to a line on the road in front of us (just to the right of the hole). Then they would look along the lined up people. First to the left, then to the right, then to the middle. They would raise an arm and point and intone the sacred word: "YOU". If you were lucky enough to be selected in this way, then you'd walk to the Head, and drink from the Cup Of Choosing that they held. Each Cup contained a different brew, but drinking it would bind you to that Head for ever more. Or at least until the next restructure. I guess they have to utter an incantation to break the spell of previous drinkings.
After drinking from a cup of choosing you were allowed to go inside and actually do some work.
Due to the slightly ceremonial nature of this ceremony, it was a bit on the slow side. After the first hour, only six people had been chosen, and there were two thousand and sixty more to go (It's a very long wall by the way). I was not one of those six. This was annoying because I needed to use the lavatory. And it was still cold, even with the heat generated by the various Cups Of Choosing.
But my wait would soon be over. After three more people had been appointed, my current boss stepped up to the line. He looked to the left, then he looked to the right. Then he looked to the middle. I held my breath - I was on the right. He kept looking to the middle. And then, for one last time, he looked to the left. This was actually towards me since he was facing us. He raised his hand, and smiled a wicked, wicked smile. He opened his mouth and said "YYYYOOOOOOOUUUUU".
I stepped up and looked him in the eyes. He passed me the cup and I drank deeply. It was Lemsip. Yum!
Then, finally I was able to head inside and get on with my new job, which is just the same as my old job was yesterday.
This is all entirely true and exactly like it happened.
As we got to work, the actuarial directors didn't let us into the building straight away. Instead, we were made to stand along the outside wall of the office, in a line, with our backs to the wall. It was quite cold, so I was glad of my coat and scarf. We had to stand there for around half an hour until over 90% of the actuarial staff had arrived. At this point, the Actuary King blew a horn, and a trapdoor in the road opened. I think it was not a sewer entrance, but a hitherto secret entrance to the office.
Out of this open pit climbed out, one by one, beasts like I have never seen unto this world before. Beasts of all sizes, of all smells, and of many gaits. Each one of us standing there against the wall was scared for our own lives.
Well, maybe that last paragraph was a slight exagerration... What actually came out of the hole was all the Departmental Heads. And lest you get the wrong idea, they are proper whole people, not just Heads on sticks or in jars or displayed in some other freakish manner. That sort of thing may go on at some other insurance companies, but in York we employ a more civilised kind of Head.
The appointment process was about to begin.
The process was to involve each Head in turn stepping up to a line on the road in front of us (just to the right of the hole). Then they would look along the lined up people. First to the left, then to the right, then to the middle. They would raise an arm and point and intone the sacred word: "YOU". If you were lucky enough to be selected in this way, then you'd walk to the Head, and drink from the Cup Of Choosing that they held. Each Cup contained a different brew, but drinking it would bind you to that Head for ever more. Or at least until the next restructure. I guess they have to utter an incantation to break the spell of previous drinkings.
After drinking from a cup of choosing you were allowed to go inside and actually do some work.
Due to the slightly ceremonial nature of this ceremony, it was a bit on the slow side. After the first hour, only six people had been chosen, and there were two thousand and sixty more to go (It's a very long wall by the way). I was not one of those six. This was annoying because I needed to use the lavatory. And it was still cold, even with the heat generated by the various Cups Of Choosing.
But my wait would soon be over. After three more people had been appointed, my current boss stepped up to the line. He looked to the left, then he looked to the right. Then he looked to the middle. I held my breath - I was on the right. He kept looking to the middle. And then, for one last time, he looked to the left. This was actually towards me since he was facing us. He raised his hand, and smiled a wicked, wicked smile. He opened his mouth and said "YYYYOOOOOOOUUUUU".
I stepped up and looked him in the eyes. He passed me the cup and I drank deeply. It was Lemsip. Yum!
Then, finally I was able to head inside and get on with my new job, which is just the same as my old job was yesterday.
This is all entirely true and exactly like it happened.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
There's a Silence
Today was this year's Rememberance Sunday. A day to remember the war dead for 2 minutes in silence, as opposed to all day which would tend to interfere with people's busy diaries. I for example would have been hard pressed to use my whole day to remember dead soldiers, since I have had more pressing things to attend to (eg food shopping).
I did feel a bit cheated in that I'd already observed some silence on Thursday, which was the 11th of November, or 11/11 as the Americans might call it. That silence was only a minute long, but I thought of things really fast during it, so it was equivalent to the slightly slower-witted two minutes I experienced today.
Rather than just be silent on my own, I listened to the silence on the radio, live from the Cenotaph, London. It's a bit strange, since it's not actually properly silent. What you hear is kind of a quiet hush, almost a buzzing. I turned up the volume to hear it better. I hadn't realised that the end of the silence is marked by some kind of gun or cannon being set off. *BANG* It sounded very loud in my flat and made me jump somewhat.
I suppose I could have avoided this scare by just turning the radio off.
Or by not being silent. It does seem unfair that occasionally the world is deprived of me talking for short lengths of time.
I did feel a bit cheated in that I'd already observed some silence on Thursday, which was the 11th of November, or 11/11 as the Americans might call it. That silence was only a minute long, but I thought of things really fast during it, so it was equivalent to the slightly slower-witted two minutes I experienced today.
Rather than just be silent on my own, I listened to the silence on the radio, live from the Cenotaph, London. It's a bit strange, since it's not actually properly silent. What you hear is kind of a quiet hush, almost a buzzing. I turned up the volume to hear it better. I hadn't realised that the end of the silence is marked by some kind of gun or cannon being set off. *BANG* It sounded very loud in my flat and made me jump somewhat.
I suppose I could have avoided this scare by just turning the radio off.
Or by not being silent. It does seem unfair that occasionally the world is deprived of me talking for short lengths of time.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Going Soft
I think I'm going soft in my old age.
I've been on a mini pub crawl tonight (six pubs and back home by nine). Before hand, I did a speck of shopping - wanted to pick up the new Eminem album. This task I achieved: Well done me. However, at the same time, I also (through the evils of a "buy 2 save £5" offer) also bought the new album by... The Beautiful South. Not cool.
Good stuff though! It's an album of just covers, featuring amongst others, Don't Fear The Reaper and Ciao! (the duet between Lush and Jarvis Cocker). It's good (mostly). Really.
And anyway, I think Eminem cancels out The Beautiful South, in the same way that walking up the stairs at work cancels out the bacon sandwich you've bought on the way in, or that wearing a tie cancels out comedy socks saying "I Love Beer".
In other music related news, it was good to see that Helen Love have managed to potentially expose themselves to an audience by having a song on the new Dave Gorman DVD. When I saw DG last year, I was quite surprised to hear a Helen Love track on the PA before he came on. I said to the people with, in an excited way, "Ooooooh, it's Helen Love!". They probably don't remember, or weren't listening, or both. Mr Gorman must be a Helen Love fan. For any of you who have not caught onto their delights yet, I recommend Radio Hits Vol. 3.
I've been on a mini pub crawl tonight (six pubs and back home by nine). Before hand, I did a speck of shopping - wanted to pick up the new Eminem album. This task I achieved: Well done me. However, at the same time, I also (through the evils of a "buy 2 save £5" offer) also bought the new album by... The Beautiful South. Not cool.
Good stuff though! It's an album of just covers, featuring amongst others, Don't Fear The Reaper and Ciao! (the duet between Lush and Jarvis Cocker). It's good (mostly). Really.
And anyway, I think Eminem cancels out The Beautiful South, in the same way that walking up the stairs at work cancels out the bacon sandwich you've bought on the way in, or that wearing a tie cancels out comedy socks saying "I Love Beer".
In other music related news, it was good to see that Helen Love have managed to potentially expose themselves to an audience by having a song on the new Dave Gorman DVD. When I saw DG last year, I was quite surprised to hear a Helen Love track on the PA before he came on. I said to the people with, in an excited way, "Ooooooh, it's Helen Love!". They probably don't remember, or weren't listening, or both. Mr Gorman must be a Helen Love fan. For any of you who have not caught onto their delights yet, I recommend Radio Hits Vol. 3.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Phone Con
A conversation I had earlier today on the phone:
Me: Hi Matt
Matt: Hello!
Me: Um... Did I speak to you on the phone yesterday?
Matt: No...
Me: Oh ok. I thought I did.
Matt: No...
Me: Bye then!
I was sure it had been him...
Me: Hi Matt
Matt: Hello!
Me: Um... Did I speak to you on the phone yesterday?
Matt: No...
Me: Oh ok. I thought I did.
Matt: No...
Me: Bye then!
I was sure it had been him...
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Just some things
So, some things:
1. Why did nobody tell me that The Crimea put an album out about six months ago??? You gits. They topped my Festive 20 last year, so it's not like you didn't know I liked them. I bet you all have copies and have been laughing at me continuously ever since. Gits.
2. I don't own a car, but if I did, I'd consider a Honda because I really like their adverts. Today I got a free Honda "Hate something - Change something" bag in the post. It has that smell that you normally associate with inflatables. I have no idea what a Honda car looks like. Or even what colour they are.
3. Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Choices to be made. Or I could just wait and let things turn out however they turn out. And maybe lose an opportunity instead...
4. I got the DVD of series one and two of Big Train in the post yesterday. Although occasionally a bit hit and miss, there were some fantastic sketches in there (made all the better by Simon Pegg, Mark Heap et al being in most of them). Two I particularly remember as cracking me up: the one in an office where a new rule is brought in banning masturbation in the office; the one with the government minister who doesn't really understand scale models. Possibly they are funnier if you actually see them.
5. I'm looking forward to having some empty, free time soon. I intend to use it to stare into space, aimlessly for a while. Yum.
1. Why did nobody tell me that The Crimea put an album out about six months ago??? You gits. They topped my Festive 20 last year, so it's not like you didn't know I liked them. I bet you all have copies and have been laughing at me continuously ever since. Gits.
2. I don't own a car, but if I did, I'd consider a Honda because I really like their adverts. Today I got a free Honda "Hate something - Change something" bag in the post. It has that smell that you normally associate with inflatables. I have no idea what a Honda car looks like. Or even what colour they are.
3. Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Choices to be made. Or I could just wait and let things turn out however they turn out. And maybe lose an opportunity instead...
4. I got the DVD of series one and two of Big Train in the post yesterday. Although occasionally a bit hit and miss, there were some fantastic sketches in there (made all the better by Simon Pegg, Mark Heap et al being in most of them). Two I particularly remember as cracking me up: the one in an office where a new rule is brought in banning masturbation in the office; the one with the government minister who doesn't really understand scale models. Possibly they are funnier if you actually see them.
5. I'm looking forward to having some empty, free time soon. I intend to use it to stare into space, aimlessly for a while. Yum.
A review of a gig what I went to tonight (21)
Third time at Fibbers within seven days. Maybe eight days if you are really arsey about timing. I was there last Wednesday anyway, and there again tonight which was also a Wednesday. Tonight was one of those reasonably rare occasions when I knew nothing about the headline act. So we'll move onto him later...
First on tonight, York's own Motu One. A Band that seems to have a higher member turnover rate than most call centres. It's hard to be properly criticistic of a band when you know the lead singer, but I'll try anyway. One Pos, One Neg. Pos: I like the violin schtick. I've always been a sucker for strings. Neg: The spoken bit in one of the new songs was way too REM.
Four Day Hombre were middle on. They were excellent, as they are so often. It was nice to see the return of the Kate Bush cover after a few gigs without it. I'm running up that hill too.
And finally Ethan Daniel Davidson. He's an American from (possibly) Alaska, who does what can only sensibly be described as Country. Favourite song had to be "I can't drink you pretty", though I'm not sure if it was an original or a cover. The basic sentiment was the country classic of "You're a minger, and however many whiskeys I drink tonight, you'll still be a minger. Do you wanna get together anyhow?".
Tonight in Fibbers, there were three actuaries and one trainee. That'd be 3.5 on the AR(SE) scale I think.
5.0: Puressence
4.5: Trachetenburg Family Slideshow Players
3.5: Easyworld / Snow Patrol 1 / Graham Coxon / Keane / The Brakes / ED Davidson
3.0: The Open 2 / Thirteen Senses 1 / David Devant
2.5: Four Day Hombre 1 / Snow Patrol 2
2.0: Delays / Athlete / Dawn of the Replicants
1.5: The Ordinary Boys
1.0: The Open 1 / J. Richman / Four Day Hombre 2 / Simon & Garfunkel / Seafood / Thirteen Senses 2 / Cherry Falls
Next up, The Bluetones at Fibbers in December. It's sold out, and will be great.
First on tonight, York's own Motu One. A Band that seems to have a higher member turnover rate than most call centres. It's hard to be properly criticistic of a band when you know the lead singer, but I'll try anyway. One Pos, One Neg. Pos: I like the violin schtick. I've always been a sucker for strings. Neg: The spoken bit in one of the new songs was way too REM.
Four Day Hombre were middle on. They were excellent, as they are so often. It was nice to see the return of the Kate Bush cover after a few gigs without it. I'm running up that hill too.
And finally Ethan Daniel Davidson. He's an American from (possibly) Alaska, who does what can only sensibly be described as Country. Favourite song had to be "I can't drink you pretty", though I'm not sure if it was an original or a cover. The basic sentiment was the country classic of "You're a minger, and however many whiskeys I drink tonight, you'll still be a minger. Do you wanna get together anyhow?".
Tonight in Fibbers, there were three actuaries and one trainee. That'd be 3.5 on the AR(SE) scale I think.
5.0: Puressence
4.5: Trachetenburg Family Slideshow Players
3.5: Easyworld / Snow Patrol 1 / Graham Coxon / Keane / The Brakes / ED Davidson
3.0: The Open 2 / Thirteen Senses 1 / David Devant
2.5: Four Day Hombre 1 / Snow Patrol 2
2.0: Delays / Athlete / Dawn of the Replicants
1.5: The Ordinary Boys
1.0: The Open 1 / J. Richman / Four Day Hombre 2 / Simon & Garfunkel / Seafood / Thirteen Senses 2 / Cherry Falls
Next up, The Bluetones at Fibbers in December. It's sold out, and will be great.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Use of Chapters
Having just opened the new Terry Pratchett book for the first time, I can only say...
Arrrrrggghhh!! WTF???? Chapters? What the f**k is he playing at, using actual chapters??? Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I'm confused.
Arrrrrggghhh!! WTF???? Chapters? What the f**k is he playing at, using actual chapters??? Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I'm confused.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
How to do 3D on the cheap
I developed a new way of seeing the world in 3D today, using commonly available objects. All you need is:
- 2 Clamshell style Camera Phones (they don’t need to be identical, but the camera does need to be behind the screen)
- Lots of sticky tape
Open up both phones, lay them on their sides and orient the two screens so that they are next to each other. Use tape to attach them together securely – don’t cover up the camera lenses too much though. Now, put both phones into camera mode.
If you hold the combined device up to your eyes and look at the left screen with your left eye and the right screen with your right eye, then you should be able to merge the two pictures in your brain and since they are being taken from slightly different angles, then they should merge into a fully 3D moving picture.
It’s just like actually being there,
You can walk around town, and you’ll experience the full 3D effect, as if you were actually walking around town. And you’ll look like that bloke of Star Trek.
If anyone has any venture capital to help me develop this idea, drop me an email with the subject line “Hey, you’re better than that Da Vinci bloke”.
- 2 Clamshell style Camera Phones (they don’t need to be identical, but the camera does need to be behind the screen)
- Lots of sticky tape
Open up both phones, lay them on their sides and orient the two screens so that they are next to each other. Use tape to attach them together securely – don’t cover up the camera lenses too much though. Now, put both phones into camera mode.
If you hold the combined device up to your eyes and look at the left screen with your left eye and the right screen with your right eye, then you should be able to merge the two pictures in your brain and since they are being taken from slightly different angles, then they should merge into a fully 3D moving picture.
It’s just like actually being there,
You can walk around town, and you’ll experience the full 3D effect, as if you were actually walking around town. And you’ll look like that bloke of Star Trek.
If anyone has any venture capital to help me develop this idea, drop me an email with the subject line “Hey, you’re better than that Da Vinci bloke”.
Monday, November 08, 2004
It's Chriiiiissssttttmasssss!!!
With Bonfire night out of the way, it looks like Christmas is now officially here. Early signs of Christmas include:
1. Christmas songs playing in shops (eg Next) at lunchtime.
2. Mulled wine on sale in The Old White Swan (tasty stuff).
3. Mince pies brought into work by a colleague this afternoon.
4. I sat on Santa's lap today.
Ok, so I lied about number 4, but even so, it seems TOO EARLY for Christmas. I know that this same thing happens every year, but that doesn't make it right. There are probably many other signs of Christmas that are out there that I just haven't noticed, because you don't class things as being particularly odd when they are there for over a sixth of a year.
If I was four years old again, I'd lap this stuff up. I'd probably still enjoy fireworks too. Or maybe I'd be scared by the loud bangs and totally frightened to pant-messing level by the evil smelling fat man in the red coat and dirty beard. But I'm not four years old. Not any more. I used to be that age, but I was forced to grow up by time, parents and a desire to have my own flat.
Yes, now I am an adult and can willingly spit on Christmas coming early, on fireworks going on too long, and on other people having fun. Pah, darn them all.
Humbug.
1. Christmas songs playing in shops (eg Next) at lunchtime.
2. Mulled wine on sale in The Old White Swan (tasty stuff).
3. Mince pies brought into work by a colleague this afternoon.
4. I sat on Santa's lap today.
Ok, so I lied about number 4, but even so, it seems TOO EARLY for Christmas. I know that this same thing happens every year, but that doesn't make it right. There are probably many other signs of Christmas that are out there that I just haven't noticed, because you don't class things as being particularly odd when they are there for over a sixth of a year.
If I was four years old again, I'd lap this stuff up. I'd probably still enjoy fireworks too. Or maybe I'd be scared by the loud bangs and totally frightened to pant-messing level by the evil smelling fat man in the red coat and dirty beard. But I'm not four years old. Not any more. I used to be that age, but I was forced to grow up by time, parents and a desire to have my own flat.
Yes, now I am an adult and can willingly spit on Christmas coming early, on fireworks going on too long, and on other people having fun. Pah, darn them all.
Humbug.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Staring at goats
I've just been watching a TV programme, The Crazy Rulers of the World about the use of psychological and parapsychological warfare in the US military over the last 30 years. There's a summary of most of the programme here.
It seems there's some strange stuff going down. Major General Stubblebine reasoned that since atoms are mostly space, and people and walls are made of atoms, then people and walls are mostly made of space, so it should be quite straightforward to merge one through the other. To train soldiers to pass straight through solid walls. He banged his nose a lot. But respect to the guy for having the courage of his convictions and attempting to do the feat himself in his office rather than ordering the lower ranks to run straight at walls themselves.
Elsewhere, at Fort Bragg, there is Goat Lab. Goat Lab is where the army practices stopping the hearts of goats using the power of their minds alone. This is not easy to do, but there are a couple of people who claim to be able to do it. One is now dead (either killed in a helicopter accident, or run over and killed by a jeep whilst attempting to show that it wouldn't harm him to be run over by a jeep, depending on which story you believe). The other runs a dance/martial arts studio and recently killed his own hamster by staring at it, because the hamster was irritating him.
Goat Lab used to be called Dog Lab, but they changed because it was "just about impossible to form an emotional bond with a goat".
Also revealed are plans that would have seen US special forces entering hostile territory carrying young lambs, playing "indigenous music and words of peace" through loudspeakers and giving "automatic hugs" to any hostiles they encountered. Now I have zero combat experience (apart from some paintball), but I'm pretty sure that if I was a Hostile, I wouldn't let the enemy come towards me carrying lambs and playing Fleetwood Mac covers with a view to hugging me. I expect I'd shoot, or maybe just run away. But I wouldn't let enemy soldiers come and hug me. Though the originator of these ideas does accept that there was "a possibility that these measures might not be enough to pacify an enemy". No shit.
It seems that this, in part, has led to the torture that was going on in Guantánamo Bay and Abu Ghraib. A second article gives details of the a strange use of the music of Matchbox Twenty and Kris Kristofferson by the US military on a guy from Manchester who was held (and later released) in the Bay for two years. Strange...
It seems there's some strange stuff going down. Major General Stubblebine reasoned that since atoms are mostly space, and people and walls are made of atoms, then people and walls are mostly made of space, so it should be quite straightforward to merge one through the other. To train soldiers to pass straight through solid walls. He banged his nose a lot. But respect to the guy for having the courage of his convictions and attempting to do the feat himself in his office rather than ordering the lower ranks to run straight at walls themselves.
Elsewhere, at Fort Bragg, there is Goat Lab. Goat Lab is where the army practices stopping the hearts of goats using the power of their minds alone. This is not easy to do, but there are a couple of people who claim to be able to do it. One is now dead (either killed in a helicopter accident, or run over and killed by a jeep whilst attempting to show that it wouldn't harm him to be run over by a jeep, depending on which story you believe). The other runs a dance/martial arts studio and recently killed his own hamster by staring at it, because the hamster was irritating him.
Goat Lab used to be called Dog Lab, but they changed because it was "just about impossible to form an emotional bond with a goat".
Also revealed are plans that would have seen US special forces entering hostile territory carrying young lambs, playing "indigenous music and words of peace" through loudspeakers and giving "automatic hugs" to any hostiles they encountered. Now I have zero combat experience (apart from some paintball), but I'm pretty sure that if I was a Hostile, I wouldn't let the enemy come towards me carrying lambs and playing Fleetwood Mac covers with a view to hugging me. I expect I'd shoot, or maybe just run away. But I wouldn't let enemy soldiers come and hug me. Though the originator of these ideas does accept that there was "a possibility that these measures might not be enough to pacify an enemy". No shit.
It seems that this, in part, has led to the torture that was going on in Guantánamo Bay and Abu Ghraib. A second article gives details of the a strange use of the music of Matchbox Twenty and Kris Kristofferson by the US military on a guy from Manchester who was held (and later released) in the Bay for two years. Strange...
Remember, remember
It's now two days after bonfire night, and there still seem to be hundreds of fireworks being let off outside. Bang, bang, bang. It's like living in Baghdad, except I guess they don't have bonfire night in Iraq. Or anywhere else in the world now I come to think of it.
I'm not really a fan of fireworks. You turn up, go "ooohh" a lot and then realise that that was it, an anticlimax as normal. I'd blame this on me getting old and miserable, but I've not enjoyed them particularly for many years. So I'll have to blame it on me just being miserable. And don't get me started on how expensive they are! Actually, I don't really know how much they are, as I never buy them.
Bonfire night is when we in Britain celebrate/commemorate the attempt of local York man, Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605. He didn't manage it, as he got caught before being able to light the epxlosives. And then he was executed. After a lot of torture, obviously. So now on November the 5th each year, we build big bonfires, and put an effigy of Guy on top. Then we burn the whole lot, along with any hedgehogs that have crawled into the fire for a little nap. We don't really burn Fawkes in a nasty way, more an affectionate "Oh that was bad, don't do it again, ahhh, look at you with your cute little hat".
Anyway, because of him and his cute little hat, I now have to put up with lots of bangs outside my window for days on end. Git.
I'm not really a fan of fireworks. You turn up, go "ooohh" a lot and then realise that that was it, an anticlimax as normal. I'd blame this on me getting old and miserable, but I've not enjoyed them particularly for many years. So I'll have to blame it on me just being miserable. And don't get me started on how expensive they are! Actually, I don't really know how much they are, as I never buy them.
Bonfire night is when we in Britain celebrate/commemorate the attempt of local York man, Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605. He didn't manage it, as he got caught before being able to light the epxlosives. And then he was executed. After a lot of torture, obviously. So now on November the 5th each year, we build big bonfires, and put an effigy of Guy on top. Then we burn the whole lot, along with any hedgehogs that have crawled into the fire for a little nap. We don't really burn Fawkes in a nasty way, more an affectionate "Oh that was bad, don't do it again, ahhh, look at you with your cute little hat".
Anyway, because of him and his cute little hat, I now have to put up with lots of bangs outside my window for days on end. Git.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
A review of a gig what I went to last night (20)
And the gig counter hits twenty (ish).
Last night was Thirteen Senses at Fibbers, more than ably supported by Four Day Hombre. The bar staff all had matching TS t-shirts, the audience were dressed more variably. Audiences tend to do that.
Both bands were excellent. Say no more. I'll be seeing FDH again next week - which will take me to a total of five for the year.
Soon the AR(SE) table can be laid to rest, but for now, here it is updated for this weeks gigs. Both scored a rubbish one. Hey, Actuaries! Go to gigs more!
5.0: Puressence
4.5: Trachetenburg Family Slideshow Players
3.5: Easyworld / Snow Patrol 1 / Graham Coxon / Keane / The Brakes
3.0: The Open 2 / Thirteen Senses 1 / David Devant
2.5: Four Day Hombre 1 / Snow Patrol 2
2.0: Delays / Athlete / Dawn of the Replicants
1.5: The Ordinary Boys
1.0: The Open 1 / J. Richman / Four Day Hombre 2 / Simon & Garfunkel / Seafood / Thirteen Senses 2 / Cherry Falls
Next up, Ethan Daniel Davidson at Fibbers on Wednesday. I have no real idea who he is.
Last night was Thirteen Senses at Fibbers, more than ably supported by Four Day Hombre. The bar staff all had matching TS t-shirts, the audience were dressed more variably. Audiences tend to do that.
Both bands were excellent. Say no more. I'll be seeing FDH again next week - which will take me to a total of five for the year.
Soon the AR(SE) table can be laid to rest, but for now, here it is updated for this weeks gigs. Both scored a rubbish one. Hey, Actuaries! Go to gigs more!
5.0: Puressence
4.5: Trachetenburg Family Slideshow Players
3.5: Easyworld / Snow Patrol 1 / Graham Coxon / Keane / The Brakes
3.0: The Open 2 / Thirteen Senses 1 / David Devant
2.5: Four Day Hombre 1 / Snow Patrol 2
2.0: Delays / Athlete / Dawn of the Replicants
1.5: The Ordinary Boys
1.0: The Open 1 / J. Richman / Four Day Hombre 2 / Simon & Garfunkel / Seafood / Thirteen Senses 2 / Cherry Falls
Next up, Ethan Daniel Davidson at Fibbers on Wednesday. I have no real idea who he is.
Friday, November 05, 2004
Counting Actuaries
I have just been so close to winning a pound from my staff. He had noticed that a lot of the photos of people in this month's The Actuary magazine, were of people dancing or doing gymnastics. He was correct - there are several. This led us to make a bet on what the profession of most of the people pictured was.
I bet one pound that the majority of them would be actuaries. He bet a pound that the majority wouldn't be. We counted and classified people as best we were able.
This gave a count of 31 to each side, with one person we just couldn't decide on. Research on the internet was unable to settle the matter either. So we were forced to concede a draw. Darn. No pound for me.
Disclaimer: Because some actuarial judgment had to be used in this exercise, the conclusion we came to may not be definitive. I don't care.
I bet one pound that the majority of them would be actuaries. He bet a pound that the majority wouldn't be. We counted and classified people as best we were able.
This gave a count of 31 to each side, with one person we just couldn't decide on. Research on the internet was unable to settle the matter either. So we were forced to concede a draw. Darn. No pound for me.
Disclaimer: Because some actuarial judgment had to be used in this exercise, the conclusion we came to may not be definitive. I don't care.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
A new dawn
(last political post for a while... promise)
It's the morning after, and there's no pill that'll sort things out today. I suspect if Bush had his way there'd be no morning-after pill full stop.
We'll never know what President Kerry Edwards would have been like. Oh well. What kind of a boy's name is Kerry anyway? A rubbish one, that's what it is. It's not a good manly Famous Five style name like George (and on the subject of names, isn't it nice how well the names President Bush and Vice-President Dick go together?).
But I suspect that President Edwards would have been better for the world as a whole than monkey-man will be.
Well, hopefully everyone will just put the whole sorry fiasco behind them and just start being nice to each other for a change. Cos if you give a little love, then it all comes back to you (la la la la la la la). You know we're gonna be remembered for the things that we say and do (la la la la la la la)...
Final thought: The Bush administration has just stood by its approval for a book being sold in US National Parks museums and book-shops. The book claims that the Grand Canyon is only a few thousand years old and was caused by Noah's great flood. I think that speaks for itself.
It's the morning after, and there's no pill that'll sort things out today. I suspect if Bush had his way there'd be no morning-after pill full stop.
We'll never know what President Kerry Edwards would have been like. Oh well. What kind of a boy's name is Kerry anyway? A rubbish one, that's what it is. It's not a good manly Famous Five style name like George (and on the subject of names, isn't it nice how well the names President Bush and Vice-President Dick go together?).
But I suspect that President Edwards would have been better for the world as a whole than monkey-man will be.
Well, hopefully everyone will just put the whole sorry fiasco behind them and just start being nice to each other for a change. Cos if you give a little love, then it all comes back to you (la la la la la la la). You know we're gonna be remembered for the things that we say and do (la la la la la la la)...
Final thought: The Bush administration has just stood by its approval for a book being sold in US National Parks museums and book-shops. The book claims that the Grand Canyon is only a few thousand years old and was caused by Noah's great flood. I think that speaks for itself.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
A review of a gig what I went to tonight (19)
Is it naive to think that if all America just got together, sat down and watched a few bands over a couple of pints of decent bitter, then they could all just be friends, look to the future and hope for the best? Obviously it would have to be a bloomin' big bar, but I'm sure it'd help things.
I went to see some more bands at Fibbers tonight. They made me feel good, and nobody had to invade anybody else to provide that feeling.
I was all on my lonesome again, mainly this time because I hadn't bothered to ask (almost) anyone else along. But that didn't really worry me. And the first guy on was also on his own, though he did seem to have a lot of friends in the audience.
Thom Mills was his name. I'm still not sure about that spelling of Tom. I know yer Radiohead blokey has been using it for years, but it seems slightly wrong. Does anybody know any Tims who spell their name "Thim"? No, of course you don't, it'd be ridiculous and people would laugh at them. So why do we allow "Thom"s to get away with it? And don't give me any crap about "Thomas" having an "h" in it either...
But despite the crazy spelling, he was really good. Looked a bit like Will Young, but had some great songs, and a great voice. He appealed for people to join him as drummers or extra guitarists for future gigs. I refrained from offering my services because I suspected he wanted people who were competent. And also he wasn't very tall and I'd have made him look little if I was near him.
After him... I Am Jack. There were more than one of them though, and I don't know if any of them actually were called Jack. Lead singer looked like a grey (one of them alien types, not one of them accountant types). But other than that, they were again really good. Not unique, but very enjoyable. Don't think they were happy about the election result though...
And so then onto tonight's headliners, Cherry Falls. I've seen them once before, supporting Ooberman back in March '03. I don't really remember what they were like, but I'd managed to remember them in a positive enough light for me to have bought their last two singles. Which then hadn't impressed me hugely... But live, they were a different proposition. Think of early period Travis (which I mean as a compliment). Lead singer (and probably the whole band) is Scottish and very chatty and personable. Good tunes.
So I had a pretty decent night out, all told. To cap it all, I heard the new single from Grandaddy, "Nature Anthem" on the radio on the way into town, which is a fantastic little tune.
"I want to walk up the side of the mountain,
I want to walk down the other side of the mountain,
I want to swim in the river and lie in the sun,
I want to try and be nice to everyone."
And that's the entirety of the lyrics. It builds nicely and has a kid's choir towards the end. It's too early to tell whether it's one of those songs whose simplicity will make it a classic, or whether it will just become annoying.
On the subject of that band, I think my favourite song of theirs is "He's simple, He's dumb, He's the pilot". Remind you of anybody? :-)
I went to see some more bands at Fibbers tonight. They made me feel good, and nobody had to invade anybody else to provide that feeling.
I was all on my lonesome again, mainly this time because I hadn't bothered to ask (almost) anyone else along. But that didn't really worry me. And the first guy on was also on his own, though he did seem to have a lot of friends in the audience.
Thom Mills was his name. I'm still not sure about that spelling of Tom. I know yer Radiohead blokey has been using it for years, but it seems slightly wrong. Does anybody know any Tims who spell their name "Thim"? No, of course you don't, it'd be ridiculous and people would laugh at them. So why do we allow "Thom"s to get away with it? And don't give me any crap about "Thomas" having an "h" in it either...
But despite the crazy spelling, he was really good. Looked a bit like Will Young, but had some great songs, and a great voice. He appealed for people to join him as drummers or extra guitarists for future gigs. I refrained from offering my services because I suspected he wanted people who were competent. And also he wasn't very tall and I'd have made him look little if I was near him.
After him... I Am Jack. There were more than one of them though, and I don't know if any of them actually were called Jack. Lead singer looked like a grey (one of them alien types, not one of them accountant types). But other than that, they were again really good. Not unique, but very enjoyable. Don't think they were happy about the election result though...
And so then onto tonight's headliners, Cherry Falls. I've seen them once before, supporting Ooberman back in March '03. I don't really remember what they were like, but I'd managed to remember them in a positive enough light for me to have bought their last two singles. Which then hadn't impressed me hugely... But live, they were a different proposition. Think of early period Travis (which I mean as a compliment). Lead singer (and probably the whole band) is Scottish and very chatty and personable. Good tunes.
So I had a pretty decent night out, all told. To cap it all, I heard the new single from Grandaddy, "Nature Anthem" on the radio on the way into town, which is a fantastic little tune.
"I want to walk up the side of the mountain,
I want to walk down the other side of the mountain,
I want to swim in the river and lie in the sun,
I want to try and be nice to everyone."
And that's the entirety of the lyrics. It builds nicely and has a kid's choir towards the end. It's too early to tell whether it's one of those songs whose simplicity will make it a classic, or whether it will just become annoying.
On the subject of that band, I think my favourite song of theirs is "He's simple, He's dumb, He's the pilot". Remind you of anybody? :-)
Whoops!
Oh, you silly Americans, what have you gone and done now?
On a plus point, you've at least given the rest of world statistical justification for claiming that the majority of Americans are arrogant selfish idiots...
On a plus point, you've at least given the rest of world statistical justification for claiming that the majority of Americans are arrogant selfish idiots...
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Cliche Warning
Here's a thought: every bad thing that has ever happened to you, somebody will have found it really funny. It was probably me. That's how people work. Every break-up, every loss, every death, every mistake, somebody will have found it hilarious.
The sooner you are able to agree with them, the sooner you'll be actually happy yourself. Because, really, everything has a funny side. Face the world with a smile, and the world will smile back at you. You give a little love and it all comes back to you (as they said in Bugsy Malone).
It's all true.
The sooner you are able to agree with them, the sooner you'll be actually happy yourself. Because, really, everything has a funny side. Face the world with a smile, and the world will smile back at you. You give a little love and it all comes back to you (as they said in Bugsy Malone).
It's all true.
Mild irritation
Does anyone else get very slightly midly irritated by the way that often when you wash your hands after using the toilet, it's just after you've flushed said toilet? This tends to mean that the water from the tap is at a lower pressure than normal and doesn't wash you as well as it could.
So then of course you turn the tap up more than you would normally, and when the pressure returns to normal, you get soaked.
This is only really an issue in places where the toilet cistern is right by the toilet - eg in the bathroom of a private house. Public toilets tend not to be as affected, especially ones that mostly contain urinals.
In other, possibly unrelated, news it looks like the monkeys are choosing a new chief chimp today. Choose wisely, my ape bretheren. And sistren. And cistern. See, it was related after all. Where are my tablets?
So then of course you turn the tap up more than you would normally, and when the pressure returns to normal, you get soaked.
This is only really an issue in places where the toilet cistern is right by the toilet - eg in the bathroom of a private house. Public toilets tend not to be as affected, especially ones that mostly contain urinals.
In other, possibly unrelated, news it looks like the monkeys are choosing a new chief chimp today. Choose wisely, my ape bretheren. And sistren. And cistern. See, it was related after all. Where are my tablets?
Monday, November 01, 2004
The end of Summer
British Summer Time ended in its usual way yesterday with the clocks going back to where they used to be. On Saturday at this time it was coming up to eight o'clock. Now it's only coming up to seven. This has the effect that it's REALLY DARK when I come home from work, even if I get away at five. This doesn't seem fair.
I am losing an hour of good evening light just so that some Scottish farmers can see their cows udders of a morning. Or something. Many studies have shown that a lot of accidents would be avoided if we didn't do this time movement every year, but more importantly, leaving work in the dark makes me feel miserable. It makes me feel like I'm leaving at eight or some evil time like that. It's wrong. But it doesn't have to be this way...
We don't have to let ourselves be dictated to in this way. Let's face it, the only reason it's now seven and not eight is because Tony Blair says it is. Nothing actually changed in the world yesterday. Nothing in nature forces us do partake of this madness each year.
So I think it's time for some mass civil disobedience. Change all your clocks back to where they were on Saturday. Reset the clock on your computer at work. Reset the clock on a colleague's computer at work. If you work in a church, change the church clock back. Maybe you're even a scientist at Greenwich? If so, change all your posh clocks. Let's stay in British Summer time for the whole winter.
If you don't have access to clocks, then just turn up to work at 8 (on the evil time system) and leave at 4 (on the evil time system). In your head you'll be doing the classic Dolly Parton hours, and that's what matters.
And this could even have hidden benefits. Pubs will still be on the standard Mr Blair time zones, and they will close at 11 (OTETS). But if you are in the pub and have been following my advice, then it'll be like they are actually closing at midnight. A whole extra hour's drinking just from changing your own timeframe! Racing to catch that last post collection at 5pm (OTETS)? Not a problem any more - now you have until 6! Missed your favourite soap opera? Not any more! It's on an hour later than normal! So many everyday problems just vanish.
So come on my people. If together we all say that it's two o'clock, then it will be two o'clock. Time is an illusion, but it's one that we can control. We just have to grasp the proverbial clock-hands and all push together.
And more vitally, I'd be able to leave work in daylight. For an extra week at least.
I am losing an hour of good evening light just so that some Scottish farmers can see their cows udders of a morning. Or something. Many studies have shown that a lot of accidents would be avoided if we didn't do this time movement every year, but more importantly, leaving work in the dark makes me feel miserable. It makes me feel like I'm leaving at eight or some evil time like that. It's wrong. But it doesn't have to be this way...
We don't have to let ourselves be dictated to in this way. Let's face it, the only reason it's now seven and not eight is because Tony Blair says it is. Nothing actually changed in the world yesterday. Nothing in nature forces us do partake of this madness each year.
So I think it's time for some mass civil disobedience. Change all your clocks back to where they were on Saturday. Reset the clock on your computer at work. Reset the clock on a colleague's computer at work. If you work in a church, change the church clock back. Maybe you're even a scientist at Greenwich? If so, change all your posh clocks. Let's stay in British Summer time for the whole winter.
If you don't have access to clocks, then just turn up to work at 8 (on the evil time system) and leave at 4 (on the evil time system). In your head you'll be doing the classic Dolly Parton hours, and that's what matters.
And this could even have hidden benefits. Pubs will still be on the standard Mr Blair time zones, and they will close at 11 (OTETS). But if you are in the pub and have been following my advice, then it'll be like they are actually closing at midnight. A whole extra hour's drinking just from changing your own timeframe! Racing to catch that last post collection at 5pm (OTETS)? Not a problem any more - now you have until 6! Missed your favourite soap opera? Not any more! It's on an hour later than normal! So many everyday problems just vanish.
So come on my people. If together we all say that it's two o'clock, then it will be two o'clock. Time is an illusion, but it's one that we can control. We just have to grasp the proverbial clock-hands and all push together.
And more vitally, I'd be able to leave work in daylight. For an extra week at least.
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