Archive for October 2008
Radio DJ and television presenter Jo Whiley has given birth to her fourth child, a baby girl.
In their infinite wisdom, her parents have decided to call her Coco Lux.
Let us just think about that for a minute.
When Coco Lux gets older and has her own family, they will be greeted at family parties with the call, “Here come the Coco Lux Clan!” Whereupon all the black people will run and hide.
Why would you give your child a name that sounds like a stuttering racist? Unless of course you were a closet racist yourself? We can only assume the names “Aryan Race” and “Apartheid” were considered a little too ‘in your face’, and that Coco Lux was deemed to strike the right balance between subtlety and a strong white supremacist message.
Good luck Coco, I think you will need it.
They say that we should all take responsibility for our actions. Keeping them secret is bad for the soul, and the ‘wrong thing to do’.
Sometimes you have to be a big man and own up to previous indiscretions.
Which is why I am amazed at the furore surrounding Russell Brands brave admission to Andrew Sachs that he had sex with his grand-daughter. That takes balls. Even more so to do it on national radio.
Admittedly, he needed the moral support of a good friend and fellow broadcaster to do the actual confessing itself, but that should not detract from the effort on his part.
Would the 20,000 or so people who have complained to the BBC rather he had lied? The BBC has already been in trouble over misleading it’s viewers and listeners, so the public should make up its mind. You can not have it both ways.
These 20,000 truth-haters have now ensured that both Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand will find themselves on the Sachs Offenders register, whose only previous occupant was a moustache wearing Torquay hotelier. It is a shame.
I understand that Ross took his suspension after his refusal to read the following statement:
“I say sorry, unreservedly, and regret my rude, randy and rotten remarks. I did not intend the worry or embarrassment derived from my remarks.”
UPDATE: I have just learned that Georgina Baillie, Andrew Sachs’ grand-daughter, about whom this whole sorry affair began, has decided to take action. So ashamed is she by the embarrassment caused to her grand-father, and so offended by the publicity granted to her by a brief dalliance with Russell Brand, she is taking the only action she can, and is removing herself from the public eye whilst hoping this whole sorry affair will die down, sooner rather than later. And she has found just the person to help her in this quest. Max Clifford.
There are moments in a man’s journey, when he feels like he is passing from one phase of his life, to the next.
It can be triggered by something small, but the dawning realisation of what is happening can be huge. Which is what happened last Saturday when I found myself in town, shopping. For slippers.
I do not consider myself old. Thirty three is not old. It isn’t. Yet as I walked around my flat, barefoot, and upon cold wooden floors, I realised that I almost certainly needed slippers in my life. It would not be the first time that I have I owned slippers though, oh no. It is just that the last pair were children’s size seven and had Spiderman on the front. I can not even make the excuse that “My old ones are worn out and I’m just replacing them.” as they do not make Spiderman slippers in adult size eights.
Having overcome the personal demons that chastised me for even considering the purchase of slippers, I made my way into town, where I learned something interesting about the retail trade. You can often tell the target market for a particular item by how it is displayed in the store. Are they adorning a trendy looking mannequin in a strident pose? Or are they on a rack next to the cravats and walking sticks?
I am definitely not interested in cravats or walking sticks, so it was particularly bad planning on their part, a cross-selling opportunity definitely missed missed. They should obviously have stocked some CD’s or trendy jeans next to the slippers to maximise their revenue earning potential. That said, a year ago I did not think I would be looking to buy slippers, so perhaps the research has shown that by next year I will be a cravat wearing, cane brandishing lothario?
Anyway, my slippers are comfortable and that is all that matters. And on the brightside, no-one will ever know about them.
Well, my co-presenter and I finally got round to it.
Technology did it’s best to conspire against us, and I do sound a little crackly for the first five minutes or so, but Cliff and I still managed to create thirty minutes of idle chat about topics as varied as murdering someone via Facebook, why discussing rape on a first date is a bad idea, and why you should keep your iPod handy in times of crisis. The good news is that Cliff sounds fine throughout, and I am sure he is the one you really want to listen to.
You can download the podcast from iTunes by clicking here, or searching for ‘I Am Livid’ in the application itself. Even if you don’t enjoy listening to us, we had a laugh doing it and will probably do another one when we have solved our microphone issues. So, if you would like to contribute (we would like you to), either in written form or via an audio file for inclusion in the next podcast, you can email both Cliff and I at ‘Podcast’ followed by @iamlivid.com.
Consumer inflation in the UK has reached 5.2%.
This is just another sign that the country is going to the dogs. With the credit crunch biting, the housing market stagnant at best, and the price of every day commodities rising faster than at any point in the last in the last ten years, something must be done.
We need cheaper products, and we need them now. But how?
If there is one thing that Panorama has taught us, it is that children in the Far East can make things very cheaply indeed. Surely it is not too much a of stretch to train them to make other things for us, apart from just trainers and jeans? If we could get them into food production it would go quite a long way in reducing your weekly shopping bill, and this should be the overall aim for everyone at the moment.
So come on Tesco, come on Waitrose, let’s see you train up little Sandesh into a highly-skilled bread making machine and let’s start making Britain great again.
I have previously written about the difficulties of working for Al Qaeda. Not only do they have trouble recruiting staff, I mean, can you trust an employee who is motivated solely by the promise of eternal sexual favours? But they also have the problem of funding.
That is where I come in.
Last week’s post advising George W. Bush to use the law to his advantage got me thinking, and as a result I do have another tip for Al Qaeda – Sponsorship.
I think it is fair to say that when Osama Bin Laden releases a video, it is seen by the entire Western world. How hard would be it be to preface each release with a short message?
“This warning to the godless infidels in the West is brought you by Starbucks – your pick-up in a cup.”
Don’t say that no-one will pay to sponsor something as morally questionable as Al Qaeda, because Virgin paid £3m to sponsor Big Brother, so there is a precedent. I believe this will work because the advertising industry truly has no moral compass.
I know what you are thinking, you are thinking that it is not true that there is no such thing as bad publicity, after all, Gary Glitter is hardly storming up the iTunes chart, is he? But that is wrong. Trust me, if he had been hounded back into the UK drinking a can of coke you would all have been going, “That dirty bastard! How did we let him come back here. But you know what, I have got a bit of a thirst on now…”
On a personal note, it is really disappointing to find out the one thing you are good at is advising terrorist organisations. There is not much career development there. I doubt that any terrorist organisation would ever believe that I was running a genuine agency.
“Ha! I bet this is a secret MI6 plan to capture us!”
“No, honestly, I genuinely want to help you leverage the value of your brand.”
It wouldn’t be the first time a brand has been associated with Al Qaeda either. I bet that deep down, in the place where we have the thoughts that no-one talks ever about, the Marketing team at Porsche were secretly pleased that the phrase ‘9/11′ took off. I can almost hear them saying, “…and please let one of the terrorists have been called Cabrera!”
The internet is massive. Absolutely massive.
I do not think there has ever been an accurate headcount, but I will bet that there are literally thousands of people on it. And of those tens of hundreds, I have just one request.
Please, please, please write to Ringo Starr asking for a signed photograph. We only have a week in which to make this request, as after the 20th October he will be ignoring all requests.
This means we only have six days for everyone on the Internet to get their Ringo Starr autograph.
You might think this is a petty practical joke in response to a public figure’s egotistical dismissal of his fan base, but it is not. It is a serious request, and I will now explain why.
Ringo is now 68 years of age, and though Sod’s Law dictates he will inevitably be the last Beatle to die, he can not go on forever. When he finally relinquishes his grasp on this mortal coil, there will be a stampede for items bearing his name. This booming trade will lead to profiteering by ruthless criminal elements, and much like the moody DVDs at your local market, it could end up ’supporting terrorism’. Which is a bad thing, mostly.
The only way to ensure that this black market does not thrive upon Ringo’s demise, is to ensure that every man woman and child on the planet already owns a Ringo Starr autograph.
Of course, in order to write to Ringo Starr we need an address for him, which is not on his website, for obvious reasons. So, if anyone knows how to get hold of the correct address to use in the next six days, please leave it in the comment box below or email it to me, as you could be helping us BEAT THE TERRORISTS!
10
Petrol prices
9 Comments · Posted by Mr Angry in Consumer Issues, Current Affairs, Getting about
I am in the fortunate position that I do not have to drive anywhere near as often as I used to. Getting through a couple of tanks of petrol a week was not unheard of in my last role.
Therefore I have not been hit particularly hard by the steady rise in the price of petrol in the last year or so. So I tended to ignore it, like most social issues that do not directly affect me.
But, I recently filled up at a cost of over £60 for the first time, and after a long debate with the forecourt manager where he convinced me they had not, in fact, made a mistake, I decided to look into what makes today’s petrol so expensive. After all, the price of crude oil is dropping quite quickly at the moment.
An average 115p litre of unleaded petrol is broken down like this:
50.35p on fuel duty
37.35p on the product itself
17.13p on VAT
10.17p for the retailer
Now, I understand the arguments for fuel duties, I really do. Some of them I agree with, others I do not. What I do not understand however is how the Government can tax us on the tax we are already paying.
You see, I was under the impression that the VAT (‘Value Added’ Tax) should only be applied to that part of the price in which I am paying for, well, “additional value”? i.e. the product and the service that is delivered it to me? Whereas in effect they are benefiting twice by raising fuel duties, once with the duty itself, and secondly by the increased VAT charged upon it.
I hope someone out there cleverer than me can surely explain why this is not illegal?
Or maybe it is?
I just wish someone would hurry up and invent the solar powered BMW. Though they would surely find a way to tax sunshine the day that happens. It might not even be the first time.
fuel duty · Government · petrol · tax · VAT
I know I have already mentioned it, but next week will see the recording of Podcast number four, with guest presenter Cliff Jones.
As it has been a while, this promo was put together just to check the technology still works and that I have not broken anything in the meantime.
There is a little button on the right hand side of the homepage for all you iTunes users, so you can subscribe and get the podcast when it is released next week. In the meantime, here is a small teaser, just a couple of minutes, for your aural pleasure.
8
A message in seven characters or fewer
11 Comments · Posted by Mr Angry in Getting about, People
I do not see the point in personalised number plates. I have mentioned them before, as they tend to adorn cars that could really have done with the few hundred pounds they cost, being spent elsewhere, like on clothes, personal hygiene products, or a frontal lobotomy.
I do understand however that for those people intent on having a personalised plate, it is difficult to make the correct choice. You have to consider your name, your personality, readability, and maybe even a secret hidden message. All in seven characters or fewer.
This is difficult,
Sometimes people will succeed in meeting one of the above criteria, and it will be clear to all concerned what their name is, or the type of person they are (something subtle like W8nk3r).
Despite all of this, I found myself in such awe of the owner of the registration plate below that I had to take a photo of it with my phone so that I could share it with you all.
They have managed to not only ensure everyone is clear about their sexuality (a bonus if they use the Jeep for some off-road dogging etc.) but they have also managed to confirm their favourite sexual position, which will obviously save time in the dogging parks, where I hear brevity is key. Best of all, they have let prospective partners know that they are still learning, so we should not expect too much from any tawdry encounter we might have with them.
If only all people put this much thought into it, I might have to reconsider my general position on the owners of such needlessly ostentacious accessories.
dogging · jeep · number plates
I rarely make mistakes.
But when I do, I do tend to make an awful lot of them at once, and all about the same thing.
After posting a retraction just a few short days ago after mistakenly thinking I had eaten at Giraffe, it now turns out that I did not eat at The Bridge Bar either. In fact, after several emails between myself and a nice man called Nick at the Bridge Bar, he has provided evidence that I ate The Tin Goose (which is not even listed as serving breakfast on Heathrow website)
I am not an unreasonable man, and as such I think it only fair that I correct this mistake. Again.
I have again edited this post of a few days ago to reflect what I now believe really happened that morning.
Anyway, I have once again stealth-edited some of the comments so NO-ONE WILL EVER KNOW. Except for all the people reading this. And the people at The Bridge Bar. And any Google refers. And anyone you choose to tell about this.
So once again, no harm done.
If I have learned anything in this sorry mess, it is that I am a rubbish note taker when it comes to preparing blog posts.
It is now over seven years since the terrible events of September 11th 2001 (I say terrible, but I do not know if any Al Qaeda sympathisers read this site).
A lot can happen in seven years. Fortunes can be won and lost, careers made and then ruined. Or, you can choose to hide in a cave for that entire time. You see, it has been seven years since we have had a genuine confirmed sighting of Osama Bin Laden by anyone other than his close allies.
By happy coincidence, someone can be declared dead in absentia after they have been missing for seven years. Now, I am not telling G Dubbya how to do his job, he has lots of other poorly-qualified people to do that, but if I was him I would look to claim a quick points victory in the run-up to the election.
OK, he might not have Osama’s head on a stick to parade in front of the world’s media, but a death certificate with Osama’s name on it would make a nice photo call in front of the White House. He might as well use the rules to his advantage, he has made enough of them.
“Osama is dead!” he would proclaim from the White House steps.
“Show us his cold dead eyes then!” would be the cry from the hordes of press.
“I don’t need to! I have a piece of paper here showing that he has definitely and properly died to death according to the legal laws of the land. Fact!”
You never know, it might even tempt Osama out of hiding and into the clutches of an eager Secret Service. Or he might just show up in his next video wearing a “Vote McCain!” t-shirt just to spite him.
I had always been bemused as to why women insist on having cubicles in their public conveniences. Especially when you see the length of the queues in even in a semi-popular venue. Surely it would make much more sense to have them all use some form of female-friendly urinal. After all, there are rarely queues in the gents, where urinal use is rife.
Whilst pondering this problem last weekend I came to the conclusion that it would not work because they would then all be in plain sight of each other. Which is not a problem for men, obviously, as staring straight ahead and avoiding eye/genital contact is something we are all pretty good at. We can even hold conversations whilst our noses are inches from the wall.
Women on the other hand simply can not ignore the things around them. I have often witnessed a ten minute conversation about a woman who walked passed in a crowded bar, a conversation critically dissecting every inch of her attire, even though she was only visible for approximately half a second.
Can you imagine how long these conversations would last if they could see each others vaginas as well? It is bad enough listening to them go on about other women’s shoes without having to hear about bedraggled fannies and the current trends in pubic topiary.
I guess the cubiicles and queues are here to stay.
Songwriters tend to have a knack for understanding exactly how their target audience is feeling. This uncanny ability to create songs that speak directly to us, as if we wrote them ourselves, can lead to global meagstardom for the talented few.
There are exceptions of course, like when Gary Glitter asked us if we wanted to be in “his gang”, but that was his fault for not being explicit about what being in his gang entailed. Then again, I guess he would not have been invited on Top of the Pops if he had sung, “Do you wanna be in my gang of kiddy fiddlers?”, mainly because it scans really badly and there’s not much that rhymes with fiddlers.
So I was intrigued to listen to new pop-sensation Katy Perry’s recent chart-buster, “I kissed a girl”. The song has become something of a worldwide hit, and so it clearly resonates with the youth of today.
The chorus begins, “I kissed a girl and I liked it.”
OK Katy, I am with you so far. I too have tried it, and felt much the same way. I would perhaps have said something stronger than ‘like’ but let us not get hung up on that.
“The taste of her cherry chapstick”
I must be honest here and say that I tend to avoid snogging girls with overly chapped lips, but each to the their own I suppose. Some people get off on amputees, so in the overall grand scheme of things chapped lips is relatively normal. Whatever floats your pretty little boat.
“I kissed a girl, just to try it.”
Fair enough, but there really is no need to defend yourself or your actions. It’s not like you injected smack or anything. I am not sure if kissing a girl is a gateway sexual deviancy but it might be best keep a close eye on your cravings from now on.
“I hope my boyfriend don’t mind it.”
Right. This is where I think you are a little bit off the pace here Katy. If you are going to go around experimenting by kissing other girls, the one person on the entire planet who is NOT going to mind, is your boyfriend. If you had said, “my Mother” or “my Pastor”, then I could understand your concern. As it is, I doubt you even got to the second verse before your boyfriend had you on the phone to invite your ’special friend’ round for dinner, whilst simultaneously texting the word “BINGO!” to all of his mates.
If she believes she did wrong then she has clearly lost touch with the planet’s entire male population. Which is a lot of potential customers. I think she should strongly reconsider her planned follow up single, “I won’t lez it up because no men will buy my album if I do.”
katy perry · kissed a girl · lyrics · song
