We ain't no simple folk down 'ere

For the past three days, I have been in the land of the carrot crunchers, specifically Devon, more specifically Exeter, visiting Melly and incidentally hooking up with Tommy J and Lynny at the same time. On my way here, I thundered through gorgeous landscapes on the train, past rolling verdant landscapes on rolling hills, ponds half-smothered by lilies in bloom and picturesque canals dotted with quaint longboats. One could easily see the attraction of being a farmer because it's like this on your doorstep, at least in the summertime (winter would be more harsh for the rustic than living in the city).
On Friday, went out for dinner with the trio at the Double Locks, an archetypal rural pub next to a canal, but no worse for that. I had a steak and ale pie with mash and peas to soak up the gravy, though a little put out at first that it was the traditional pub way of putting the pastry covering top heavy on the contents rather than totally enveloping the meat. But it was still a swelegant meal. Many owners had brought their dogs who had great fun throwing balls into the canal for their dogs to chase after. It went a little too far when some owners threw their dogs into the canal without even the customary bait to swim for, so the dogs swam back, were picked up by the scruff of their necks and thrown back in again, as if it was some dog-throwing competition - maybe a West Country tradition.
On Saturday, we went to the beach at Budleigh Salterton with Melly's family as well, where it was windy and threatening to rain and while the others dressed up in windbreaker jackets and over-sized woolly jumpers, I prowled the promenade in nothing more than a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Despite the weather, it was warm and I even went for a paddle in the creek estuary leading out to the sea, something the others were prevented from doing by being overdressed. We moseyed on into town to partake of the ice-cream shop Melly recommended. I had a curious mixture of Turkish delight and Blackberry cream (the latter like raspberry ripple, only not) and I had to take care of those messy pups, Lynny and Tommy J (Tom's vanilla cream refusing to be sucked out by the bottom until the cone crumbled in his hands) with a paper napkin to the rescue. At the same time, I revealed my ignorance of these parts, asking if Taunton was nearby, having passed the station the day before, believing it to be a nearby summer seaside resort when it's actually landlocked and in the neighbouring county of Somerset. At night, we met up with friends of Melly and I had a twenty minute staring competition with one of her friends which ended in a draw, primarily because he had tried to make me laugh by opening an umbrella while sitting down, which had the accidental effect of knocking his drink over Lynny. After that, we just wanted to laugh like the others were doing. Just goes to show you shouldn't open an umbrella indoors.
The next day, I went to Exeter Cathderal and stayed for matins after the sung eucharist, one reason because I came in halfway through the first service as it started contrary to my expectations at 9.45am instead of the 10.30 of churches in Gillingham and 11am at Canterbury Cathedral.
And now I'm back to face more days without work in Kent. An antidote, I applied for a post within the Foreign Office but that will take about eight months to complete if I'm successful.

A little foresight, that's all it takes

I made a mistake today. I went with mum to see her mum (my grandmother) in a nursing home, an hour before midday. As it's easiest to get there by bus, that is the mode of transport we usually take, as opposed to walking. However, we chose to go today, the first day of the schoolkids holiday. We waited at the bus stop forty-five minutes for a bus that is supposed to come every fifteen. On my terse inquest with the driver when he did turn up, he said it was traffic gridlock. That's because everyone has to take their children down to the riverside or to the beach in their cars; it's no use thinking that people might forgo their cars on such a lovely day. Oh no, that's far too much. The irony is, people in cars complain about all the cars on the road. The driver also had to pick up a lot of families and each time he did so, he had to go back into the traffic gridlock, but only a little down the queue, so the bus right behind was virtually empty. Of course, it wouldn't be so empty and there wouldn't be so much of a traffic logjam if some people got out of their cars and used it.
Rather interesting factoids I heard on the radio today. Twenty years on from the last analysis, a sociologist, with some yardstick, came up with the hundred most important journalists in the country. It wasn't too hard - there are so many prominent journalists to near enough complete a century, anyway. A striking figure though was that the number of these journos who had been to private school had gone up from 46% in 1986 to 54 of the list today. This is despite private schools educating only 7% of the population. The journalistic trade isn't quite as bad as Oxbridge where 60% of graduates come form private schools, but, when questioned, the people on the list believed that the proportion of journalists who came from a background of priviledge would incraese in the future. There are a variety of reasons: wealthy youths can work on the notoriously low pay of the early years, those from priviledge have more access to back channels allowing a way into the profession, but the biggest reason for why the number is on the rise is because of the abolition of most grammar schools. This meant that people from poor backgrounds couldn't get top-notch education because without a grammar school, the only recourse was to a private school which, of course, the poor couldn't afford and their references therefore were not as lofty as those whose parents could afford private schools. And as more and more who had a private education get in, they'll recruit others of their ilk who they can associate with. I think that's wonderful - the Labour government of the sixties and seventies abolishing grammar schools to create an elitist news trade. You might say this is the result of the law of unintended consequences, but as old Labour figures continue to bang on about completing the process and putting an end to all grammar schools one might think it was all planned for this to happen.

Foreign affairs in a native land

Went to London today, not to see the queen, but to attend the Foreign Office job fair being held off King Charles' Street. Accompanied by Jon Williams, we went through the rudimentary rucksack checks, de rigeur for any access to government premises, and onto the rarerified surroundings of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. It was a freebie fest. I picked up one ringbinder folder, one map of Europe, one keyring, one ribbon keyring holder that you put round your neck, one CD-ROM of Foreign Policy Matters (ho-ho, what a pun), two pens (one UK Trade and Investment, the other UK Office of the European Parliament), one bookmark detailing how much power each country holds in the European parliament, one toffee sweet a bit like Finnish salmiakki, one over-sweet cake from the Indian subcontinent, a savoury pastry wrap with meat inside also from India and many, many brochures. And that wasn't all that was going on offer. Lucky, I took a rucksack (although there were FCO bags that wouldn't look out of place in Selfridges available). With the food alone, it shouldn't have been a recruitment day for the Foreign Office, they should have invited in the homeless. It was so crowded around every table it was hard to see the attractions. I wasn't impressed by the MENAD (Middle East and North Africa Department) table - they weren't giving away anything. There was a video in the Locarno Suite, with talking heads gushing about all the work they did. There was one rather exciting part where officials were rescuing British nationals from forced marriages in Asia. First, an official in glasses was saying to frightened women "we'll take you directly to Islamabad [and from thence to an airport]" and then it was like "go, go, go" as they hurried through dusty backstreets (with all the jerkiness of a handheld camera) and into a waiting minivan and then quickly sped off. The video did include the ambassador to Saudi Arabia, Sherard Cowper-Coles, whose name I think was intended to rattle any oiks not fresh out of Oxbridge. In the main courtyard, they were some rather vacuous displays with cringeworthy exhibits in perspex boxes. To illustrate climate change, one box had a dehydrated shrub sticking out of a clump of sandy earth; another, to show how important international finance is, had a pile of old Financial Times papers inside. Pitiful. There were plenty of jovial Foreign Office people wandering around, happy to take questions, so you could avoid the crush at the tables, but neither Jon nor myself availed ourselves of the opportunity. The tables were a bit of a red herring anyway, since you would get posted wherever the FCO deemed you should go. I had got the basics of what the Foreign Office was like from two officials present at a voluntary lecture at Kent Uni back in May 2005. We were there for an hour and coming out at 11.45am, we observed a massive queue to get in, snaking round the corner of King Charles' Street and right back along it, whereas we had next to no queue at all.
I've been doing some thinking with all these historical comparisons flying about being applied to Israel. My initial feeling motioned towards the Empire of Germany in 1914, feeling surrounded by enemies and lashing out, incidentally causing a world war. With the news that more than half a million Lebanese are internally displaced by this war, my mind turned to Serbia and its wars in the former Yugoslavia, but you can't say that. Those wars were a result of nasty old Slobodan Milsosevic, cuddly Ehud Olmert couldn't do that. I don't want to disown those images altogether, but a more prescient idea has come to mind. Israel is the Millwall of the Middle East. "No-one likes us, we don't care," is their mantra and they take to extreme violence to prove how hard they are, to cite a few of the similarities. Some Millwall supporters would say that, this too is a historical comparison, given their attempts to clean up their off-field antics. Though the Israelis may believe it, it's not the case that everyone doesn't like them - the US government, for example, which is shipping 'smart' bombs to them, just as Israel criticises Iran and Syria for smuggling rockets to Hizbullah. Maybe, because they were smuggled weapons rather than being above-board licensed destruction was what Israel took offence at. The UN, the EU, Russia and China all take an opposing view.

Carry on treatment

Been to the hospital up the road from me today, to see about having some of my toes re-set, which are not correctly aligned as a result of being two weeks late being born, twenty-four years ago. The operation will be some time in the future but already I have been afflicted for life. The podiatrist said my big toes did not bend properly and were locked without pressure when they should be flexible so he said I had to wear special insoles in my shoes for as long as I should live. Luckily, the NHS pays for them and they only have to replaced once a year or so, so just like buying new shoes (except without the buying part). The podiatrist had an interesting take on NHS turf disputes calling them "'Chinese wars' between the departments," which is an intriguing counter-posing of the simmering conflict between the People's Republic of China and Taiwan (the Republic of China) as applied to his work. I had never heard that phrase before. He also related a case study from the USA, where a man was cured of toothache by action on his feet; this worked out along the lines of "Dem Bones" where the 'foot' bone's connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone's connected to the shin bone, the.... Footache compounded backache compounding the tooth problem. Sorting out the foot sorted out the rest. But as my podiatrist said, the man could have had his head down because he was deep in thought and subsequently had his head upright because the foot brace was so painful, his nerves were on full alert.
The Levantine troubles continue, but I was taken aback by last night's BBC coverage, which I thought was unusually biased i.e. telling it like it is.
Reading in the news that Wayne Rooney loves a bit of golf simulation, perhaps retired footballers like their golf so much as it is the only sport where they don't have to do any running on their knackered knees.

Yay!

Newcastle United are through to the next round of UEFA Cup qualifying, beating Lillestrom at the Norwegians' gaff three goals to nil. Woohoo!
And Newcastle got Damien Duff. Woohoo!
Now all Newcastle need is two strikers and three defenders. Easy.

It's been no work all week for me. It's always nice to be earning, but in the hottest July week for a century or more, maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Gives me the opportunity to see one of my grandmothers in a nursing home and tackle the other grandmother's overgrown garden that has really sprouted since the last time, a few weeks back, I tended it. On the way to see the former, on a double decker bus, I saw the rather incongruous site of two limousines squidged together in a forecourt barely bigger than the space the limos occupied. This limited limo pool was adjacent to a residential house which gave it the incongrous look - imagine going to do your shopping in one of those (for those who drive, I always walk). And there was a choice as well - black or white. Has suburban affluence really extended this far or is it more a case of when Homer Simpson took up a job as a limo driver for a firm?
The agency I'm contracted to actually said that they intentionally sent more than the required persons needed to that job last Tuesday, in case people let them down. On this occasion, no-one let them down.
Down Lebanon way, the casbah continues to rock, to the shake, rattle and roll of explosions. Deported (from Britain) cleric Omar Bakri Mohammed cheekily tried to take refuge on one of the British warships helping to evacuate our nationals, but was turned away for not having a British passport. The policy of government is clear - we won't send you to a country that may torture you when you get there, we'll just send you to one that gets the shit bombed out of it by a rogue military. The plight of the Israeli captive soldiers reminds me of the little poem 'All for the sake of a nail, the horseshoe was lost' that leads right up to the fall of the kingdom. This time all for two Israeli soldiers (or a sense of proportion), the Israeli cause was lost. Hundreds of Lebanese civilian deaths, thousands more casualties, dozens of Israeli civilian deaths and several Israeli soldier deaths, all allegedly for two Israeli soldiers and this propaganda is harped on by the ever-dwindling defenders of this vendetta against Hizbullah. Remember, Haifa wasn't being targetted before the Israeli assault; Israeli people weren't dying from crude Hizbullah rockets, but they are now that Hizbullah is bringing out the big guns it kept in reserve. In 2004, Hizbullah seized some Israeli soldiers but that was negotiated out through a joint prisoner exchange - the real problem is that the current Israeli Prime Minister and Defence Minister have never been involved in direct conflict, have never had bullets whistling around them and consequently are afriad to say boo to the Self-Defence Force and have limited understanding of the destruction being caused in Lebanon and Palestine, lest we forget the latter. Really, Kofi Annan calling for a cease-fire isn't going to do much; being the arch-diplomat he sounds at his most testy like someone forgotten about cakes in the oven, which got burnt. I say, send Gordon Ramsay out there, he'll knock heads together, literally (and don't even talk about leaving cakes too long in the oven). And please can the CIA perform an extraordinary rendition on Tony Blair to the USA; you've got his brain, you might as well take the rest of him.
On a closing note, this week, strolling down the pedestrianised High Street precinct, I saw spread out over a section a class of infant children , watched over by a teacher or two, who were drawing or writing on paper and lay on the ground as they did this. What is British education coming to, if the government can't afford tables or chairs for young pupils?

4 Day Weekend

As you can see, I'm at home again in the middle of the day, not through any illegitimate fault of my own, but because administrative error at the temping agency has intervened again. Another early start wasted (I've been back to bed since), another day not on the wageroll, all because they had overbooked a vacancy at a greetings card warehouse. Two unqualified people (myself included) amongst more experienced temp hands turned up, only one unqualified person was needed. It came down to me and this big, black guy called Shaun (or Sean) who was wearing a smart shirt that was probably not that suitable for such work (I always try to wear clothes I don't mind being damaged for temp work). When the floor manager told our bus driver that one of us had to go home, I wasn't motivated to do so, having even clocked on with the help of one of the permanent staff, but I didn't know the situation of Shaun/Sean and all he said was "I don't want to go home." So I bit the bullet. I didn't know if Shaun/Sean needed the money or not, but strictly I didn't and there didn't seem any way out of the impasse as the driver was saying she couldn't wait around forever. So fifty minutes travelling there from 6.05am, five minutes being there and another fifty minutes travelling back. I've had more productive mornings. A little shame as well, as I had started my myth-making about the place. When we got into the place, the entrance to the warehouse floor was locked with a security code which no-one knew (being temps). After some hesitation one of us knocked on the door and, presently, the door slowly opened and through the ever-expanding crack, I could see this tattooed arm push it open, though I was unaware of the arm's owner. Any storytelling didn't get much further, curtailed by my electing to go home. As I left my house, it was interesting to see mist and probably a touch of frost shimmering above the sports ground opposite my parents' house. It had rolled right up the hill from the river valley to perch itself on the near apex.
Liberal voices in Europe and America are being ever more critical of Israel's actions. I had thought to myself, why doesn't Israel use commando raids against Hizbullah instead of punitively smashing whole suburbs of Beirut - to use a scapel instaed of a bludgeon? And then I recalled an old politics lecture I had about the politics of force. The Soviet Union had to show itself implacable to its satellite states to squash any notion that they could choose their own path, hence Russian tanks in Hungary in 1956 and Czechoslovakia in 1968. Once the Soviets stopped being implacable (the lecturer argued when they opted for an internal military coup in Poland rather than outright invasion in 1981 in response to Solidarity), their reputation for crushing all East European opposition at any cost was gone and the slow slide to the fall of the Iron Curtain began. Israel's military has to show its implacability to terrorism and to Arabs otherwise it believes it will show a chink in its armour to those who would wish an end to Zionism and all that that entails. That is why Israel has gone way over the top in response to really low-key issues. They believe that if it starts with the kidnapping of soldiers, who knows where it will end. Israel does not want to find out. Trouble is, Israel's actions too often affect the innocent; more Arab women and children die than do Israeli, far more. Think how child killers are viewed in Britain and then try to imagine the feelings of Arabs towards Israel. An eye for ten eyes, a tooth for ten teeth. It's a ruinous policy for everyone.

Back to Gillingham, decent when its sunny

Well, I'm back. Not that the clowns at my agency knew that, despite informing of the exact days I would be off. Woke up at 4.10am on three and a half hours sleep, toddled down to the rendevous for my bus at 5.50am, waited around ten minutes before going back inside and checking every five minutes for the fifteen mins thereafter. It was only at around 9.40am that I was told I had an enforced day off. Oh well, free day though I'd rather be working and earning cash, even in this heat.
When I'd kicked off for Leicester on National Express last Monday, the moment the bus started moving masses of hands shot up to fiddle for the air-conditioning. It was like oxygen masks faling down but in reverse with all these arms dangling against gravity. Found out 'dead slow' is proper terminology on leaving London Victoria coach station. On the way back to London, I had a slightly agitated bus driver with a tart sense of humour (dirty weekends, jumble sales, buses with wings! Who would have heard the like).
Many things have happened in my absence. I turn my back for ten seconds and war breaks out in the Middle East. Gah! I do not dispute the right of Israel to exist. Neither do I that of the American-Jewish lobby. Nor that of the British board of Jewish Deputies. All three for me are valid entities. The way they advance their interests, however, is disputatious.
Furthermore, I believe that Israel should not have to suffer the needling of small rocket attacks on its northern or southern frontiers. But Israel being Israel, as sure as eggs are eggs, uses a sledgehammer to crack a nut, which puts everyone's back up. As if the Gaza situation wasn't bad enough, the military decides it would like a two-front conflict. The Gaza trouble was well flagged by the Israeli political establishment though whereas the army just acted straightaway on the abduction of two soldiers along the northern frontier, the Israeli PM and others only catching up later judging by news interviews. The army is Israel and Israel looks to the army. That can engender a feeling of impunity and I believe the Israeli army is out of control; the biggest generator of anti-semitism in the world today is not the crackpot Iranian president or Russian skinheads, but the Israeli Self-Defence Force.
Let's compare and contrast. Both conflicts flared-up as a result of the kidnapping of Israeli soldiers. The targeting of military installations and personnel is a legitimate act of resistance under the UN Charter for oppressed groups. No civilians in Israel were hurt until the Israeli army came down hard. When North Korea snatched Japanese citizens did Japan declare war on North Korea (in an act of self-defence)? No. When non-Americans are seized in 'Extraordinary Rendition' by the CIA, some ending up hanging from meathooks in the houses of American mercenaries, do the countries whose sovereignty was violated declare war on the USA? No. And who would deny that Israel takes prisoners without due legal process (although they do prefer 'targeted assassinations', a term Israelis rightly take offence at considering these are anything but targeted with all the collateral damage). Kidnapping half of the elected Palestinian govt. and issuing death warrants for the other half is hardly likely to produce moderation among Arabs, something the West continually harps on about. So because Israel is a bit pissed off, it rips up the 'democratic peace theory', that democracies do not go to war with each other and even if one queries the credentials of the democratically elected Hamas government, there can be no doubt about the Lebanese democracy that emerged in the much-trumpeted 'Cedar Revolution' of 2005.
But it was the fault of the Lebanese for not controlling Hizbullah, under a UN resolution passed. UN resolutions, however, have told Israel to get out of the West Bank now for 39 years, so what basis has Israel to demand the enforcement of the one for the Lebanese? Moreover, India has blamed Pakistan for not controlling Islamic militants who bombed the Mumbai train network, killing over 200. Does India strafe the border of Pakistan? No. Islamabad's writ doesn't even run in Baluchistan or the Tribal Areas (the latter believed to be the hideout of a certain ObL). Does NATO storm in from Afghanistan, laying down the law and carpet bombing? No, much to the chagrin of NATO commanders.
All the same Hizbullah are a nasty organisation, a cancer that needs to be cut out. But the Lebanese government was starting to politically engage Hizbullah the first step to a solution. Then Hizbullah seeing how distraught Israel was at the captivity of one soldier in the south, that they decided to take two in the north. Now with the infrastructure of Beirut, that the late Rafik Hariri had spent a decade building up, being pummelled into rubble, Israel has managed to achieve a rare feat, to unite the Christian and Muslim Lebanese. And Israelis wonder why no-one in the Middle East likes them. So the Lebanese don't want a ceasefire but misery to rain down on the Israelis and the Israelis feel exactly the same way against the Lebanese. All because the Self-Defence Force had to act like a bull in a china shop. In 1967, it came down like a ton of bricks on the Arab countries and taking the West Bank, creating the PLO. It came down hard on the PLO which fled at first to Lebanon where Israel attacked it further, occupying southern Lebanon. This harsh occupation gave rise to Hizbullah. After 18 years of their Vietnam, the Israelis pulled out, leaving Hizbullah victorious. Wherever Israeli has been over-zealously tough, it has just given rise to more problems for itself and in the end it suffers reverses.
The proper response of a good friend would be to say 'steady on, old chap. That's a little over the top'. The American and British Jewish lobbies are therefore not good friends to Israel. I find the verdicts of the British Board of Jewish Deputies hilarious because they are more po-faced than a hippie revivalist movement ("I mean, it's, like, all about peace, man. Just get with it."). The utterances of the British lobby seems to advance the view that Jews are incapable of doing wrong. But humans are fallible creatures and Jews are humans like the rest of us, unless the British Board says that Jews aren't human and then I'd have to disagree with them. They and the American lobby ensure the focus is always on the plight of Israel (a nation created, no less, by terrorism). The technological advantage of Israel, maximises Mao's dictum that 'one death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic'. One Israeli dies for every five Palestinians or ten Lebanese. Yet, it is presented that Israel is hard done by rather than of it gratuitously spanking away international goodwill. The reason why Congress values Israeli lives as of more worth than Palestinian or Lebanese lives is because the Jewish lobby is stronger than the Palestinian or Lebanese lobbies on Capitol Hill. The only two presidents to not kowtow to Israel, Jimmy Carter and George H. W. Bush were one-term presidents, partly as a result of American-Jewish influence. Who needs to control the world when you can control Washington? but Carter and Bush 1 ultimately acted in Israel's interests; the lobby frequently acts in Israel's short-term but not long-term interests.
What Israel can't grasp, with the army woven into the fabric of its society more tightly than in Turkey, is that they hastened dramatically the departure of the British via terrorism. The Palestinians see that and conclude that they too can create a state with enough terrorism. The success of Hizbullah in driving out Israel from southern Lebanon has reinforced that. The Israelis are paying a high price for the actions of their founding fathers and making their neighbours pay a higher price to boot. That is why the Middle East is such an intractable place in the Levant region.

Round-up before a week away

Well, the World Cup is over for another four years and the Euro Championships are two years away, so everyone can stop getting agitated over their national team. Well done to the Italians, but the less about the final the better. It should be forgotten and buried. Point of note that Newcastle man Jean-Alain Boumsong who can't even get a start now at St. James Park did better than the entire England team put together, despite not playing a minute for France, by picking up a silver medal. It's all about the squad.
But the biggest match was Lillestrom of Norway taking on Iceland's IBK Keflavik. The Norwegians had administered a beating to Keflavik at their base near Oslo, 4-1, but could only draw 2-2 in the return leg. Still, it was enough to see them through to play Newcastle. Two other teams of interest to me were in action at the weekend. Tampere United managing a manly draw against Swedish grunts Kalmar (with added spice of Finns detesting all things Swedish) away from home, but they had lost the home leg, so they're out. FC Tiraspol is the biggest club side in Moldova but its stadium and assets are on the territory of a diplomatically-unrecognised but de facto country, Transdniestr. If ever there was a Ruritania, this is it. They beat the Polish side, Lech, twice to end 3-1 on aggregate. That would be fun if Newcastle got to play them since it's illegal to take photographs of the stadium among other bizarre things.

It's World Cup final day and, as per usual, England aren't there. When one thinks of the great footballing nations - Brazil, Italy, Federal Republic of Germany - these are teams who regularly get to semi-finals and finals. Now, France has gone one better than us as well on the pitch; after a fourth-place finish and winning it at home, they've got to another World Cup final and might even win it. Fair enough we abstained the first three World Cups because we believed ourselves to be indomitable, but it puts England's World Cup achievements in perspective that a defunct country (Czechoslovakia) has got to more World Cup finals than England (albeit finishing runner-up on both occasions).
One of those great nations was in action last night for the 3rd place (they get bronze medals and all that). Germany vs Portugal in the first half was genial on the cusp of congealing, but in the 2nd half it was goals, goals, goals (and goals). It would be interesting to see what would happen if Cristiano Ronaldo was shot, since as it would be legitimate to go down he might stay on his feet. Brazilian Ronaldo had more class, if less well scuplted. However, 'The Blob' (gobbling up world records as people run screaming in horror) was stopped by Steve 'Zizou' McQueen. It should be great for Zidane to light up the world stage one last time.
On another note, hooray for Federer adding a fourth Wimbledon to his career. The man is such a gentleman and oozes class.
Finally, the BBC have got a new drama-comedy called 'Sorted' about the ins and outs of a Post Office. As I have actually worked in a post sorting office before, it will be interesting to see how closely it sticks to reality. But if they wanted action they should have covered the US postal system, where the term to 'go postal' has entered US language as to go nuts and mow down your colleagues in an orgy of violence. The opening scene of the Naked Gun 33 and 1/3 has the cops trying to get the gangsters and save the baby, but various figures are in the way - "Don't shoot, it's the president," "don't shoot, it's the pope," "don't shoot, it's striking postal workers," as the latter charge with mailbags slung back and sawn off shotguns to the fore (the union will defend them). So the BBC missed a trick, I feel.

Well, I've finally got around to reading a three-week Observer Magazine which has a special focus on ethical issues, primarily the environment. And it is depressing, probably mostly so because there are no less than five car adverts scattered throughout, with numerous other adverts that encourage you to gorge yourself on planetarily-bad consumer goods. There is only one pedal-powered bike advert. The contents represent a Sisyphusian-struggle against all the odds to save our fragile Earth, with the solutions presented (possibly unintentionally) as no more than sticking one's finger in a Dutch dyke (don't be smutty). There is so much even in our basic households that is inexorably destroying the world, not to mention that the only way to save the orang-utan is mass tourism turning the species into an asset. Far from convincing to make a greater effort in saving the environment, it induces one to throw our arms up, Sepp Blatter-style with regard to diving, that ultimately there's nothing we can do to stop our violating ways. When you start worrying about the off-gassing of an artificial carpet that a natural carpet does do, then you are shortening your life far more through anxiety than any noxious gas emanating from the rug. I would, however, like a wormery which would save many trips to the paper bank. Sadly, my parents' kitchen is so full of obsolete bread-makers, ice cream-makers and so on, that such a device will probably have to wait until I get my own place. I'll keep you updated on that one. Oh and switch as many things off stand-by as is prudent.

There's a very important match on tomorrow. It's when Newcastle will discover the identity of their Intertoto opponents. There's also a World Cup match-something on.

The time below is correct.

It's the start of my summer holidays, all nine days of it. but I won't be lounging around the south. It off oop nurth for me, to the badlands of Leicestershire. You think I jest. Once when arriving into the ancient Roman stronghold of the area via National Express, I saw these white humanoid outlines in the heartland of the 'burbs drawn overlapping road and pavement. Whether they were drawn by artists or constabulary I never quite discerned. So from Monday, for seven days, I'll be visiting my grandfather there, in Hinckley.
Today, while serving out the last day before luxury, listening to the local radio, I heard the name of one of the sponsors - Downtown Vitorius. It may be "Kent's premier restuarant and nightspot" (or not), but it does sound like the name of a Transformer toy (Mr Ross Gillard is the professor emeritus on this subject I'd say) and, after all, Transformers are 'Robots in disguise'. Perhaps if Kent's premier restaurant and nightspot was dexturously reconfigured, it could indeed be a Transformer (or a building site).
On the drive by bus on the way home yesterday, I saw that one house on its side facing the road had - since during the World Cup the owner had used red and white paint to create a huge St. George's flag as the facade - repainted over the lower red upright with whitewash. Today, I saw the guy just finishing the job of completely whiting out the front of his house. Oh the things we do for Queen and Country.
I've been having a few problems with setting the time that my posts are recorded as. For example, yesterday my post was recorded as going out at 11.24am, a flat impossibility as I was busy at work at that that moment. So, for the purposes of posterity, this blog is going out at 22.35.

It's Italy-France in the World Cup final. My earlier scepticism has been dispelled by the improvement the Italians have shown with each game and from a position of wanting them to go out in the first round, on the quality I've seen and their (understandable) desperate desire to avoid a penalty-shootout in extra-time of the semi-final, that I'm thinking they deserve to win the World Cup. France with Zidane will always be a threat though and it would be a great way for Zidane to end his career, but they will have to show the kind of game they did in beating Brazil than they did in beating Portugal, the latter engrossing in the way siege warfare is, the French scoring a goal and then saying 'okay, now come and break us down'. The outrageous antics of the Portuguese has, contrary to most teams, lost them friends. The Dutch are pissed off, the English are scathing and France's coach mimed after another piece of theatre that it was 'a wind-up'. Ah well, at least they are not in the final - come on the Germans for third place! Scolari's star, after being heavily burnished during the World Cup, has now lost some of its lustre, with tactical mistakes and odd substitutions and then blaming the excellent referee for defeat. Remember, despite his bizarre views on the gay scene in Kuwait and how a Chilean dictator established mass literacy in that South American stretch of land, (forgetting that it was at the cost of the death of so much poetry and people), this is the man (criticised by Porto fans as well), who led a Portugal team to draw 2-2 with Liechenstein. The Portuguese press talked of national humiliation, which it was, only a little alleviated by the 7-0 thrashing of Russia a few days later. Big Phil's powers may well be in decline the next time England need a new head coach. Already, despite the pool of talent, Portugal have gone more than 400 minutes without scoring. There will be many who hope that drought continues.
The final itself will be especially tasty given that France and Italy will face each other in the qualifying group for 2008, which also contains Ukraine and Scotland. It would be embarrassing for FIFA that a team from a country whose FA and top league are in meltdown to win it, but it would give much-needed comfort to Italians. France will have to call on all of its accumulated experience to overcome the azurri, but if not full of goals, it should be a thrilling tactical-fest.

Radio Ga-ga

At work, while scraping away at innumerable lab plates and microslides, to alleviate the potential for boredom the radio is on. And who should come on but Sandy Thom with her latest release. Now, on initial hearing, it's not so bad, utterly disposable but repeat performances highlight the whiny, self-pitying at the heart of 'I wish I was a punk rocker (with flowers in my hair)' - clearly Sandra has not heard of Funky Monks in Canterbury High Street. And the lyrics can be called in question as well - "in '77 and '69 there was revolution in the air" - was there? What revolution is not fully explained. Why not throw in 1789 and 1848 for good measure? And what's with '77 and '69 - is this back to the future? Put the Delorean back in the garage. Couldn't you find a rhyming link with 1977 (I assume 1977 and not 77 A.D.)? Moreover, 1969 may have been the year of Woodstock, summer of love and blah-di-blah, but was it really a revolution - if anything, it was the coda to far more explosive years earlier in the '60s. And anyway, you may have been born too late but to look back rather than forward is to be reactionary not revolutionary - you create your own revolution, as the others have already passed.
Born too late to a world that doesn't care? Why should it care about your self-indulgent will-o-the-wisp nonsense?
On a more positive note, I have been enjoying the deposed Nelly Furtado, with her 'Maneater' falling off the UK top spot. A piece of fluff for sure, but at least it makes no self-pitying trad claims dressed up as utopian dreaming. Nelly Furtado's voice oozes power and sexuality, that she is the eponymous 'Maneater'. This is the song's main strength which more than covers a weak moment later in the song marking the break where guitar solos used to be, with this latter moment little more than a sassy re-working of 'la-la-la', the locus classicus. All in all though, a strong outing. I'm also liking The Automatics 'Monster' with the lyrics "What's that coming over the hill/Is it a one-hit wonder/one-hit wonder".

Not so bad when prepared

The World Cup is over... at least for England. But I'm not surprised even though they should have beaten Portugal. This team has consistently not given performances worthy of lifting the Jules Rimet over the past month and all the problems that have faced England have been internal.
For a long time I have been ready for this. When a certain No. 10's knee imploded in the third group match after two minutes, I knew England would not win this tournament. It was a vision of death foretold. In this final match against the Portuguese, it was not when a certain No. 9 was deservedly sent off, but when a certain No. 7 was taken off because of injury. The No. 7's replacement showed far more captain-like abilities, actually bothering to run past and beat opponents before crossing rather than spraying long balls all over the pitch - the supposedly most talented bunch of players in a generation and they resort to Route One. Also, England need to learn that in the summer, it can be hot, a striking revelation . At least, with England out, there will be prettier football played.
As to the other match, it was glorious that France and Zidane are through. Brazil may have been better for a truly World Cup that included one non-European team in the semi-finals, breaking the monopoly that our continent has this time round, but they were the most disappointing side after England at Germany 2006. That the tournament shall continue to be graced by the genius of Zidane is no bad thing.
None of the last four national teams are really great. Germany is too young (not got much magic but young legs), France are too old (got the magic, not got the legs), Portugal are too inconsistent and Italy are too workmanlike. But they have got this far and it would be no disgrace if any were to win it. Shame England aren't in the mix, but ordinariness doesn't belong in a great World Cup. I'll be enjoying the semi-finals.

The 3rd post

It's quarter-final d-day for England, but first a word or several dozen about the last match last night. Italy are justifiably through which could not be said about the match they played previously to Ukraine. Shevchenko was silenced and suddenly it looks clever of the Italy manager to take all his squad from the Italian league as they knew how to handle old Andriy. Overall, Ukraine will return to a hero's welcome in Kiev for going further than any other debutant at 2006 but it hardly set the pulse of the neutral going. Apart from the turkey shoot against a very poor Saudi Arabia, Ukraine have scored only one goal in four matches and that was a dubiuosly awarded penalty against a disappointing Tunisia side; if you fail to even score, you cannot expect to get too far.
So, now it's England vs Portugal. Let's hope it's not a grind as England's progress has been so far, but with a Portugal side on the pitch who seem to take as their cue the first line of 'Eat my goal!' ("I know no rules"), it shouldn't be dull.
Here's hoping.

Once more into the breach

It's quarter-final fun. Hooray to Germany for keeping the Deutschland party going. Now, the girly-men of Italy (as Arnie 'The Gubernator' Schwarznegger might call them) take on the Ukrainian bricklayers. The latter can ensure plenty of cracks abounding (though not from slipshod working practices, you understand), though whether the Italians dare to dip their effeminate feet into such recesses to win last-minute penalties remains to be seen. Andriy Schevchenko, leading the Ukrainians, is known to terrorise Italian domestic defences, so suddenly the idea of the Italy manager to draw all his team from the Italian league doesn't look so clever.
Back in Britain, we at Whatman's are exhorted to support our boys in Germany by buying a 7* (i.e. 7 piece) English breakfast. Most of the staff couldn't give a **** about buying that and how consuming a grease-laden fry-up helps Rooney put one into the net is still unclear.
It was a tough job today as I cleaned and counted 1025 microslides in seven hours forty-five (incl. two twenty min. breaks as part of that). If that doesn't sound exactly thrilling to read, try doing it.