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The Deformed Thief

January 14, 2011

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What a deformed thief this fashion is. —Much Ado About Nothing, Act III scene iii

In addition to being lazy, I’m a bit light-headed at the moment (fasting, you know) so instead of applying myself to writing a post, I’ll just make do with this. Who has not committed some dreadful fashion faux pas? In the past, obviously: we’re all far too suave now (although I do have my doubts about the advisability of Mowbray’s plaid plus-fours).

Were any of us quite as deluded as Gary, whose capacious denim loons, form-fitting cheesecloth shirt, blow-dried locks, close-clipped beard and hip-shot pouting bring back the horrors of the 70s? Erm…Probably.

Let’s have verse on your own fashion Waterloo.

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205 Comments
  1. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 14, 2011 11:40 PM

    I wonder why there’s a passport tucked into his jeans. Perhaps he’s going to cross the border.

    • reine permalink
      January 15, 2011 2:14 PM

      Looks like he is ready to ship some contraband alright if the two empty lorries are anything to go by – perhaps he is taking the loon to Russia? The jean, I mean.

  2. mishari permalink*
    January 14, 2011 11:43 PM

    I suspect it’s his wallet. I seem to remember loons being A. skin tight [above the knees] and B. having no pockets to interfere with the tight-sculpted buttock look…

  3. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    January 15, 2011 12:36 AM

    Doggdirt

    The bride looked her best in an apricot sheath
    With radiant smile and not much underneath
    As outside the registry office they waited
    One Saturday lunchtime, collective breath bated,
    As Henry the groom pawed the kerb double quick
    Regretting the scotch and the toke of Thai stick
    To remove a turd – it could hardly be worse –
    Ingrained in his gleaming new leather Converse
    Original choice, from a glance at the queue
    Of West Indian family groups. What could they do
    But gawp at the giant arrayed in Armani
    And topped with a raiment to shame a Fulani
    Witch doctor – lovingly crafted of raw silk
    By Saks Fifth Avenue for an Acker Bilk
    Whose wife soon informed him that he’d dropped a bollock
    Commissioning dress jackets from Jackson Pollock
    And promptly dispatched to the Palm Beach Thrift Shop
    Where Henry, eye ever alert for a swap,
    Espied the dreamcoat with its multiple hues
    Slapped forehead, passed Ulysses Grant. “I could use
    A jacket like this one in Brixton’s fair city
    To marry my sweetheart.”
    Whose foot wasn’t shitty.

  4. Reine permalink
    January 15, 2011 10:29 AM

    That’s brilliant Henry. I love “And topped with a raiment to shame a Fulani
    Witch doctor …”

    • HenryLloydMoon permalink
      January 15, 2011 10:41 AM

      Ta, chuck. True story, too (18/08/84).

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 15, 2011 3:13 PM

      Yes, complex and vivid. Took me three reads to get the plot straight (my problem), but well worth it.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:35 AM

      Superb, HLM, but should there be a full stop after Converse? Or is there a Converse Original and I’m reading it wrongly?

  5. Reine permalink
    January 15, 2011 10:52 AM

    It came upon a midday clear
    A moment epiphanic
    As the mirror reflected back at me
    A vision berserk and manic

    Hair wild and long down to my ass
    A cheesecloth embroidered top
    Satin pyjama bottoms
    Over which were laced my Docs

    I told my mother often
    That this was the type of clothing
    People wore in college
    But was just met with fear and loathing

    “You embarrassed your little sister
    That day, windswept and damp
    You arrived late to her concert
    Looking like a tramp”

    The conversation echoed loud
    In my thrice studded ears
    Above myYasser A-type shroud
    Customised with burns and tears

    She might have had a point I thought
    I really do look ghastly
    But would I look any better
    In my dress from Laura Ashley?

  6. January 15, 2011 12:51 PM

    Loons wide enough to hide a d0g in
    are not the trousers to get stuck in a bog in
    Rural areas where these fashion faux pas
    Meant the 70’s population depended on cars.

    So………..
    Global warming the current plague of planets
    was caused by people dressing like pranits.

  7. mishari permalink*
    January 15, 2011 2:40 PM

    Great stuff from the usual suspects.

    I really enjoyed that Sister Rosetta Tharp documentary (just watched it on i-player)…wonderful music.

    • January 15, 2011 5:23 PM

      Wild guitar playing ….. from a woman who looked like she just stepped off the pages of 50’s Vogue too.

  8. hic8ubique permalink
    January 15, 2011 2:47 PM

    Admission

    I recall with a wince of dismay
    a flagrante delicto non-starter
    the time I was taught by my lover
    that the pants go on over the garter…

    • Reine permalink
      January 15, 2011 3:49 PM

      Ha. He obviously wasn’t an Irish man who (a) wouldn’t have known the protocol and (b) wouldn’t care as long as you took the pants off.

      My fashion decades have included many many bad hair days and inadvisable trends but wearing pyjamas al fresco is up there with the best/worst of them.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 15, 2011 3:57 PM

      He was Italian.

    • Reine permalink
      January 15, 2011 4:03 PM

      figures

  9. hic8ubique permalink
    January 15, 2011 3:22 PM

    Yours is quite vivid too, Reine. I have a composite impression of you over your fashion decades. Just the nature of the medium I suppose. It will be a lot for you to live up to ;)

  10. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 15, 2011 5:26 PM

    It came as a Christmas present:
    she must have misunderstood
    my standard sarcastic comment
    as your doting mother would.

    Heavy as a bloody carthorse
    the pattern savagely loud
    hairy as a Scotchman’s arse
    it hung on me like a shroud.

    The sleeves, which covered my fingers,
    had space for an army to hide,
    even now the trauma lingers:
    she made me wear it outside.

    Back in the mental closet it goes,
    and I’ll firmly shut the door,
    in terms of the language of clothes
    that Starsky cardigan swore.

  11. Reine permalink
    January 15, 2011 11:13 PM

    Very good Melton Michael Mowbray.

  12. Reine permalink
    January 15, 2011 11:24 PM

    Had taped Taggart earlier in the week and watched it this evening. Very enjoyable. I admired DI Robbie Ross and HI said “Yes, I knew he’d be your cup of tea, you like them rugged”… and to think I think he’s never paying attention.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 15, 2011 11:43 PM

      Rugged, Re? Like this?
      http://tiny.cc/ixs6n

      Ed has suggested (on the literary tattoo blog) that he has, or would like to have, the tattoo:
      ‘Batteries Not Included’
      Tell us more EdT.

      and Moon…your comment was a tease. What would you write? Your public wants to know.

      And while I’m being curious…
      How many days fasting so far, Mishari? How are you faring?

    • January 16, 2011 9:32 AM

      It’s an old literary quote hic – you’ll find it on a lot of packaging for pre-digital electric goods. A comment on the mind-set of those who elect to be tattooed these days. A poor comment perhaps but a comment nonetheless

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 15, 2011 11:55 PM

      Thanks, Reine. Yes, I watched it tonight as well. Made a balls-up of my reference to it earlier – it’s Alex Norton who plays DCI Burke, not the other way round. It’s a pity they’ve dumped the gay copper. A decent murrrrdderrrr and some torrrrrrtuuuurrrrrre thrown in as well. Couldn’t be better.

      Nice poem upthread. Your style was… individual. Funny how the daytime jammies never caught on.

    • Reine permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:04 AM

      Saw Alex and Blythe interviewed during the week on daytime TV as I lay languishing on the couch, too weak to change the channel. He is a very jolly fellow in real life. She is still Jackie Reid.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:11 AM

      Nothing serious, I hope?

    • Reine permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:17 AM

      No – thank you – a virus said the doc. Just exhausted and pain all over, coming round. She made me take my top off in front of a male student who was on work experience with her and spent an uncomfortably long time listening to my chest.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:27 AM

      Sorry to hear that. I saw the hospital ref. earlier and assumed a check-up or something. Get some of Simon’s dihydrocodeine. Fantastic stuff.

    • Reine permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:33 AM

      Ah, I’ll be grand. I might like it too much. The greatest pain is to my pocket, a lot of money expended to find I just had to ride it out. Hate going to the doctor, I turn into a bumbling idiot in front of medical professionals. All my vocabulary abandons me and I end up blathering.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:49 AM

      I write notes to read from if it’s something important. You get some funny looks from the old lags, but younger docs don’t seem bothered. It’s better than l’esprit d’escalier when you get home.

      Anyway, time for me to meet Polly Estersheets. Ciao!

    • Reine permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:59 AM

      Sleep soundly MM. Hadn’t realised the time; the child is away and we have had a very “undelineated” day. See, that’s the kind of stupid word I would say to the doctor; I once referred to getting the locomotive to work because I couldn’t think of train. Christ.

      Night all.

    • January 16, 2011 9:37 AM

      MM Pyjamas with leather/denim jackets are still very popular with teenage girls in certain areas of Manchester ( and elsewhere too no doubt ). it didn’t catch on with the middle classes though so in fashion-world terms it probably doesn’t count anymore.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 11:40 AM

      So Westport couture found its way across the Irish Sea and infiltrated Lancashire? Oscar De La Reine clearly missed her true vocation.

    • Reine permalink
      January 16, 2011 11:57 AM

      Oh God, I never wore them in Westport. The townsfolk were not ready for that. Only in Galway where I studied. The trend is also popular in inner city Dublin – I often pass pyjamaed and furry booted young ones out and about as I travel to work but they seem to confine it to their local areas. Theirs are proper full-on pyjamas whereas mine were multicoloured Indian ones … obviously designed for males though because they had a big flap at the front which I had to safety pin. I have never worn pyjamas since either inside or outside the house.

      I did miss my vocation I think; I would love to have worked in fashion. I was in a shop recently and one of the customers was surprised to hear I was not the owner on the basis of the advice I had been dispensing. Ideally, I’d like to lecture part-time in middle English and be a personal shopper the rest of the time. Hmmm. …. not forgetting my tambourine playing ambition and my willingness to take on any acting roles that require instant hysteria.

      Just in case any recruitment specialists are reading.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:48 PM

      When that Aprille with his fashiones neue
      Hath decreed that hencefourth alle garmentes blue
      Should bee bungèd in the dustbin’s maw,
      Ande leggiengs burieed in the bottom drawer,
      Thenne to discouvere what wille be the rage,
      To Parris make the buyeres their pilgrimage.

      Do you know Alison Lurie’s ‘The Language Of Clothes’?
      Interesting book (from a great novelist).

  13. mishari permalink*
    January 15, 2011 11:44 PM

    The best Scots detective was McCloud (Dennis Weaver). Watching him gallop down Broadway in pursuit of various American no-goodniks did my cynical old heart good.

    His kilt and sporran rippling seductively in the breeze and his clarion call of ‘Hoots, mon…see you, Jimmy, by the way…will ye no cam herrre, ye blackguard?’ (You imagined that last bit-Ed.). They don’t make Scots coppers like him anymore–now they’re just dour, grey-faced bureaucrats with angina and a wife who despises them.

    • Reine permalink
      January 15, 2011 11:51 PM

      God that poor woman must be exhausted.

  14. Reine permalink
    January 15, 2011 11:50 PM

    Ah, no, not quite but thank you for giving me a new object of desire Hic.

    I would be disowned if I got any kind of tattoo… although I think I’d fancy a discreet one.

  15. mishari permalink*
    January 15, 2011 11:54 PM

    9 days and counting, hic. I feel fine…light-headed and lacking my usual fizz, but the first 10 days are the worst as the body purges all the toxins and unwanted rubbish.

    I remember a fellow, used to drink in my local boozer, who had his name tattooed on both arms…presumably in case he lost his memory and an arm simultaneously. Hey…it happens.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 12:05 AM

      I had some excellent roast pork, with spuds, carrots, shallots and parsnips. Baked cabbage with cumin was the side dish. A steamed syrup pudding with brandy sauce followed. I washed it down with Tesco’s Finest Australian Shiraz.

  16. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 12:11 AM

    Bastard…go ahead and and gloat…we’ll see who has the last laugh when I live forever.

  17. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    January 16, 2011 12:47 AM

    I’ve been on a diet for a week now. I do have a propensity to put on weight, I suppose, but have always been able to shed it to a degree, usually through a few days’ fasting followed by a few weeks’ restraint. Now the needle has begun going further than one revolution, I’ve been given a book by my everlovin’ (she got two for the price of three – its sticker obliterates part of the original sticker, which now reads “5 French people can’t be wrong”) that advocates protein and nothing but. Apart from a binge today (you can theoretically eat as much as you want), I’ve been eating at least as much as before and seem to have shed some pounds. And euros. I now spend as much on food as I would if I was residing in a FSH and living on room service.

    As for tattooing a legend, I don’t think I’d bother. I couldn’t trust myself to come up with something that would exalt me sufficiently to keep it permanently. I know this. I don’t get that drunk anymore.

  18. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 12:51 AM

    As far as I know, there is a Converse Original…it used to be called the Chuck Taylor All Star model. Basically, it’s yer Converse Hi-Top (in leather or canvas).

  19. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 1:04 AM

    Very ill-advised, Hank. The all-protein diet is basically the Atkins Diet, which is hell on your kidneys and damaging in many other ways. We aren’t designed for large amounts of protein consumption, hence our 30 feet of intestines.

    Carnivores have very short intestines, the meat shoots right through. We’re designed for the same diet as the average gorilla or chimp (our digestive systems are virtually identical)–lots of veg and fruit, nuts and seeds, whole grains, beans and pulses and very, very little meat.

    If you give me your email address, I’ll email you a copy of Fuhrman’s Eat To Live, the only book on diet, nutrition and health you’ll ever need. Forget the Atkins voodoo…

    • HenryLloydMoon permalink
      January 16, 2011 7:45 AM

      Ta, Mish. It’s mark@henrymoon.com

      Mind you, I lost faith with Atkins when he died after falling over in New York. The guru I’m vaguely following now is Dukan, but I’d be up for reading Fuhrman. To be honest, I just get into the extreme lifestyle kick.

      Anyway, I’m allowed to eat veg next week. So I’m off to market. I’m a humanely raised pig that has been allowed to forage!

    • mishari permalink*
      January 16, 2011 12:00 PM

      Check your in-box.

  20. hic8ubique permalink
    January 16, 2011 1:11 AM

    Bad form, Mowbray. *tsk*
    Living forever is hard work; I prefer to reincarnate every so often for a fresh start.
    I’m truly impressed, Mishari. Are you able to maintain your usual exercise? Do you sleep more?
    I hope you don’t mind me asking, but the people I know who’ve gone that long have taken a maple syrup/cayenne/ lemon drink.

  21. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 1:23 AM

    hic, the maple syrup/cayenne/lemon formula is for a violent purge of the colon. It works but is primarily for people who don’t eat well to start with and don’t get nearly enough fibre (which is actually most people). I don’t need it because I eat very healthily anyway.

    However, I do drink and smoke and (occasionally) take drugs; also, I live in central London and so take in all kinds of toxic crap in the air I breathe, so just a water fast works perfectly for me.

    My activity level remains the same (the body has more than enough reserve if only people realised it) and I sleep as well as usual (that is to say, well but with bouts of insomnia…like tonight).

  22. hic8ubique permalink
    January 16, 2011 1:51 AM

    I’m afraid toxicity is high everywhere now. I rarely eat tuna, and never swordfish anymore. You’d think the air quality would be good out here on the rock, but there’s a coal-burning plant upwind in Salem.
    And the protein thing is tricky. I feel I need good quality protein, but too much out of balance depletes calcium besides feeling stodgy. You’ve inspired me to try fasting again…probably in March. If I get to four days, that will be improvement over last time.
    Do you pay attention to whether foods are metabolically acidifying or alkalysing?

  23. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 2:17 AM

    No, not really. The thing to aim for, as far as diet goes, is variety. High-quality protein (beans and pulses, nuts and seeds and whole-grains), lots of green, leafy vegetables and lots of fruit. You’ll also get the complex carbohydrates that you need from the foregoing.

    I’m no ascetic (well, rarely) and I do eat meat, chicken, fish, cheese etc; but I’m conscious of their detrimental effect when consumed in excess and keep them to a minimum. It’s no hardship.

    I don’t eat tuna or swordfish anymore and in fact, the only flesh I’m really happy to eat is properly-raised free-range chicken and lamb (or mutton), because nobody has discovered a way to factory-farm sheep. I get Argentinian pampas-raised beef, free of hormones and antibiotics and try to stick to fish that are at (or near) the bottom of the food-chain (fresh sardines, smelts, mackerel etc) and when I eat pork, it’s from humanely raised pigs that have been allowed to forage.

    But as I say, I eat very little in the way of animal products (flesh or dairy). I have quite enough unhealthy habits as it is.

    • January 16, 2011 11:27 AM

      well good luck with the fast Mishari.

      Let’s hope it doesn’t start to infect your vision so you , oh I don’t know, start to misread the names of people posting comments here.

      Fasting is a bit difficult for diabetics, exercise and eating properly ( neither which I do nearly as well as I should ) is the way forwards in that respect.

  24. hic8ubique permalink
    January 16, 2011 2:43 AM

    You are inarguably an ascetic this week.
    Very interesting, I’d thought of you as a barbeque fiend, and I remember your Spanish woodland pigs. I’ve not heard of that beef, but I’m not a beef fancier. I do love wild Pacific salmon, which is always available frozen. I’m sure I’ve never had a fresh sardine. Herring is used for bait hereabouts, but my father likes pickled herring as a snack, and as a child I’d eat it from the jar.
    I’ve never been attracted to tobacco or other drugs, but it would be a good idea for me to forgo the evening tipple for a detox period.

  25. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 3:21 AM

    Food fashions change like every other. Herring used to be the main food fish in Britain and northern Europe (the ‘kipper’ is a smoked or salt cured herring). People depended on herring for food and their livelihood.

    In Holland and Germany and around the Baltic in general, rolled or pickled herring is still a very popular street food. In Sweden (or is it Norway?) they have a special tinned variety called suströmming (sp?) that’s fermented in the can and has to be smelled to be believed. Mind you, they also eat Lutfisk, which involves soaking dried cod in lye and also reeks to high heaven (although it tastes good).

    Of course, one of the great Roman exports of antiquity was a sort of ur-Worcestershire sauce called garam (I think), that was made by allowing fish to ferment in buried barrels and then draining off the juices and bottling them. The Thais and the Vietnamese still have something similar called (I think) nam pla.

    • HenryLloydMoon permalink
      January 16, 2011 11:10 AM

      Reaching for the soy sauce to brighten up my burgers yesterday, I pulled down a likely bottle. Thankfully something about its weathered exterior made me smell it before I poured it on – it was Vietnamese nuoc mam sauce, a fish-based fermented juice that smells effing rank. An anagram of “moan, cum”, as the dogg astutely pointed out.

    • Reine permalink
      January 16, 2011 11:19 AM

      I ruined a stir fry the other day by firing in a generous dash of Lea and Perrins Worcestershire instead of Soy. Tried to drain it off and disguise the piquant and alarmed contents of the pan with oyster and soy sauce but the damage has been done.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 11:32 AM

      My son was appalled when his (German) gf’s parents produced raw herrings for the Xmas entree. He has taken to raw pork, which is apparently very popular in Germany. It just sounds wrong to me.

    • mishari permalink*
      January 16, 2011 11:52 AM

      Raw pork is wrong and frankly sounds revolting. I don’t even like under-cooked pork. I’ve never much cared for steak tartare, either. Although a chef friend introduced me to a raw-ish beef dish that’s terrific. Thinly sliced sirloin, marinated for 24-hours in a 50/50 mix of good red wine and Worcestershire sauce; but, I suppose that’s not really raw.

      When I lived on the beach in Hikkaduwa, the locals taught me to put raw sliced fish into a bowl with lime juice, coconut milk, herbs and spices; cover with muslin and leave in the sun for the day; spend the day surfing; come back to the palm-leaf hut and your meal is cooked. Delicious, too.

  26. hic8ubique permalink
    January 16, 2011 3:39 AM

    I believe I’ve maintained a widely eclectic diet, but nothing close to encompassing all that in the piscean realm. Kippers weren’t a staple in either side of my family. Never had ‘suströmming’ that I recall, and lutefisk would have been frowned upon (along with any sort of ‘street food’), but smoked salmon in cream sauce with dill, highly favoured.
    I’ll try to get the pH chart to you online. It’s surprising and worth a look.
    How long will you fast this time? and how will you break it?
    but don’t let me keep you up…

  27. hic8ubique permalink
    January 16, 2011 3:57 AM

    http://www.alkaline-alkaline.com/ph_food_chart.html
    This is different to the more exhaustive chart I’m familiar with, but gives the basic information (pardon the pun) just to give an idea.
    Sea salt and table salt are polar opposites and cider vinegar is alkalysing while balsamic v. is acidifying.White vinegar is so acidic I only use it for cleaning.
    Also explains why mineral water is beneficial, very alkaline.

  28. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 11:54 AM

    hic, 20 days (any more and despite my assurances, Inez starts to get a bit frantic) is what I usually do and break fast with fruit, steamed veg, brown rice-that sort of thing.

  29. January 16, 2011 12:23 PM

    Reine Worcester sauce mixed with soy is a popular Japanese dip.

    Very nice too but you have to experiment with the exact ratios. My irregular attempts are not done scientifically so I can’t pass on any tips I’m afraid

  30. January 16, 2011 12:25 PM

    Oops – back to normal

    Raw Pork? isn’t that risky?

  31. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 12:35 PM

    It certainly is, Ed: Trichinosis is no joke.

    Enteral phase

    A large burden of adult worms in the intestines promote symptoms such as nausea, heartburn, dyspepsia, and diarrhea from 2–7 days after infection, while small worm burdens generally are asymptomatic. Eosinophilia presents early and increases rapidly.

    Parenteral phase

    The severity of symptoms caused by larval migration from the intestines depends on the amount of larvae produced. As the larvae migrate through tissue and vessels, the body’s inflammatory response results in edema, muscle pain, fever, and weakness. A classic sign of trichinosis infection is periorbital edema, swelling around the eyes, which may be caused by vasculitis. Splinter hemorrhages in the nails is also a common symptom.

    The most dangerous case is worms entering the central nervous system. They cannot survive there, but they may cause enough damage to produce serious neurological deficits (such as ataxia or respiratory paralysis), and even death. The central nervous system is compromised by trichinosis in 10-24% of reported cases of a rare form of stroke. Trichinosis can be fatal depending on the severity of the infection; death can occur 4–6 weeks after the infection. Death is usually caused by myocarditis, encephalitis, or pneumonia.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 4:01 PM

      I think the raw pork they eat has to be certified and tested and what not. This is Germany we’re talking about, after all.

  32. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 12:38 PM

    BTW, Ed, I meant to say, your new all-singing, all-dancing website is very flash. Looks good.

    • January 16, 2011 12:53 PM

      Tar very much.

      We are working on a new commercially suicidal show at the moment with 10 performers so the web-site will have to change soon to accomodate details about that.

      If I appear snappy or more incoherent than usual over the next few months put it down to the stress of making this ridiculous idea come to fruition. It will be in Greenwich in July probably when you are fishing in Galicia .

  33. January 16, 2011 12:46 PM

    I’m completely unsure about raw meat in any form. I couldn’t get to grips with steak hache in France ( a raw egg mixed in with it as well ) and I’m not a fan of rare steak – I can’t work out when to swallow it and chewing it down to a size to make it swallow-able takes an age. I’m not that taken with well-done steaks either although last year in Hungary I had a memorable exception.

    Raw fish on the other hand is delicious – a raw herring in Amsterdam in winter is a great combination.

  34. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 12:59 PM

    Fine Chaucer-Meets-Vogue, MM. I’ve heard of the Lurie book, probably read a review. So, you recommend it, then?

    Good luck with your upcoming travails, Ed. I’m usually here for part of July, so we’ll see.

    That spineless twit Ed MilliVanilliBand just declared that any strike action that interferes with the royal wedding would be ‘very wrong’. Like Alexander Cockburn said: “Capitalism is safe in this man’s hands”.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 16, 2011 3:56 PM

      To forestall any misunderstanding I must stress that I bought the hot buttered crumpets, sorry, the Lurie book, as a present. I read it since I’m an enthusiast for her novels. Well worth a warm scone spread with jam and slathered with cream, I mean, a look.

    • mishari permalink*
      January 16, 2011 5:50 PM

      Bastard…bastard…bastard…did I mention that you’re a callous bastard?

  35. January 16, 2011 2:19 PM

    What in 72 cut quite a dash
    Now looks a sartorial motorway crash.
    A floor-length coat made up from old jeans
    Costing far beyond your usual means.
    The collar, allegedly from a sheep,
    Evidence of man-made fibre creep.
    The coat’s stitching unravelled by the minute
    Revealing the weedy body within it.
    In puddles it proved the theory of osmosis
    When sunny it proved the theory of psychosis.

    Oh floor-length denim coat what was I thinking
    I was 16 so I could have been drinking.

  36. January 16, 2011 3:29 PM

    The delicious carpaccio could convert you to raw beef; I used to eat the stuff four times a week in Milan, where it is rumoured to increase potency. Last part of Zen tonight, Ratking, which was the first Dibdin book I read, nearly 20 years ago now. Looking forward to it.

    • mishari permalink*
      January 16, 2011 5:53 PM

      True, Simon…thinly sliced, best quality meat, marinated in something for a bit (good oil, lemon and vinegar or wine) and it hardly seems raw at all.

      I’m pretty sure Ratking was the first one I read, too.

  37. hic8ubique permalink
    January 16, 2011 4:47 PM

    Following the evolutionary simian precedent, I guess we must be able to digest raw muscle tissue.
    It’s the act of eating it that puts me off. To appreciate the taste is a step too far. I’ll never know.

    Best laugh so far today:
    HLM: ‘I’m a humanely raised pig that has been allowed to forage!’

    Most breath-takingly surreal image:
    M: ‘When I lived on the beach in Hikkaduwa…’

    the opposite image:
    ET: ‘a raw herring in Amsterdam in winter’

    but I’m with you, ET, in terms of finding a middle way.

    • mishari permalink*
      January 16, 2011 5:57 PM

      Oh, we can digest raw meat but our systems aren’t really designed for it. Meat, especially raw meat, turns toxic very quickly, hence the very short intestines of wolves, tigers and polar bears. When a vegetable rots, it’s not especially revolting; when meat goes off, it can kill you (assuming you haven’t noticed the appalling smell).

  38. Reine permalink
    January 16, 2011 7:52 PM

    Have heard of Lurie’s book, MM, but will now make it my business to acquire and read it.

    We went to town for brunch and I thought of you Ed as we passed three pyjama-clad girls at various points – with, as you said, denim jacket in one case, fur in the second and leather in the third. Two of the three were wearing Converse high tops and the third some kind of Ugg derivative.

    After brunch, we went to see Blue Valentine starring Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams. Engrossing but depressing; I cried a lot. Not sure whether my husband was trying to comfort me or shut me up as he gripped my hand. The latter, I suspect. Gosling and Williams are both superb actors I think. There was a scene of stand-up congress from behind and one of the elderly women sitting directly behind us whispered loudly “Jaysus Bernie, I don’t think Michael knows that one”.

    The child is home and the cupboard was nearly bare so I made some cheese scones for the tea (sorry Mish), which we ate as we watched yet another press conference over the Fianna Fáil leadership wrangle. The Taoiseach is holding firm and is tabling a confidence motion in himself on Tuesday having consulted the party membership over recent days. Sorry, this is probably not of any great interest to you.

    I am a fan of carpaccio too Si. With some rocket, lemon and a shaving of parmesan. And I love sashimi – your dipping sauce would be good Ed. Best of luck to you with the show, may your bravery and talent be rewarded.

  39. obooki permalink
    January 16, 2011 8:49 PM

    Talking of meat rotting, I was reading today how people in the c17th believed in the Aristotelian concept of “spontaneous generation” – that is, sometimes animals just appear out of nowhere, without any need for reproduction. The classic case is that maggots are “generated” from rotting meat.

    The book states: “Johann van Helmont, the discoverer of carbon dioxide, produced a recipe for making mice out of cheese and dirty linen.”

  40. mishari permalink*
    January 16, 2011 8:56 PM

    I remember reading that in the 17th century, it was widely believed that swallows were spontaneously generated in the mud at the bottom of ponds, which accounted for their disappearance in winter and re-appearance in spring.

    Personally, I believe that politicians are spontaneously generated in think-tanks–no human agency is involved…and it shows.

  41. January 16, 2011 9:22 PM

    When Michael Gove was on Question Time last whenever it was I looked in the audience for the person who was operating him via radio-control. He’s remarkably life-like ( over 1000 realistic movements apparently ) although someone has gone a bit OTT with the varnish on his face.

    Eric Pickles reminds me of Jabba the Hut ( or Pizza the Hut as Mel Brooks called him ).

  42. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 16, 2011 11:22 PM

    Ah, Spaceballs – worth a thousand Star Wars.

    Cameron and Osborne are relying on Aristotelian theory to improve the economy. Two million jobs will be spontaneously generated by the private sector. In the distant future people will laugh scornfully about this deluded concept.

    Brian Cowen’s press conference made the UK news, with a longish section about Martin.

    • Reine permalink
      January 16, 2011 11:50 PM

      The whole episode has been a “longish section” and it ain’t over yet.

      Why did I not know about Zen before tonight? I’ve seen the Irish guy (Michael McElhatton) who played Hueber (?) on stage a few times. He’s very “versatil(e)” . Good comic actor.

  43. Reine permalink
    January 16, 2011 11:39 PM

    As a student, I had a summer job in an industrial laundry where all manner of linen came in from hospitals and hotels. The lads were the only ones with stomachs strong enough to shake out the maggot-infested sheets and tablecloths before throwing them in the washers. Absolutely revolting. I worked on the table linen ironing and packaging machine if anyone is interested. I am always impressed by a well ironed napkin – not easily achieved at high speed on roasting hot machinery.

    We worked second shift. Finished at around eleven most nights and made last orders at the pub around the corner. On Friday nights, we worked til midnight and started again at 6 a.m. Lots of discarded napkins with uneven edges on a Saturday. The supervisor, Mike, used to go ballistic and scream at us that “if ye weren’t so busy drinking and shagging, my job would be a lot easier”. He was a rough diamond but fond of us in his own screaming maniac fashion.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 17, 2011 12:09 AM

      I should think Zen’s on IPlayer. Good series. I must say CSI has gone right off the boil.

      My daughter did some chambermaiding last year. The stuff they found in the rooms was frequently horrible, the highlight being, left in the middle of the bed, a sex toy. Used. My kid wore industrial-quality gloves at all times, but one of her colleagues didn’t like the powder in them and went natural, until she picked up what she thought was a brown button from the toilet floor.

    • Reine permalink
      January 17, 2011 12:15 AM

      Oh dear God. People can be vile. What happened to basic manners? I usually make the bed and clean the bathroom before I leave anywhere.

  44. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 12:01 AM

    Reine, you can watch episode 1 of Zen here:

    http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00x9b8g/Zen_Vendetta/

    …and episode 2 here:

    http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00xgpk5/Zen_Cabal/

    • Reine permalink
      January 17, 2011 12:04 AM

      Thanks Mishari. I’d like to see those. It has an unusual feel about it.

  45. hic8ubique permalink
    January 17, 2011 12:05 AM

    When a potato rots, in a dark corner of the larder, it gives off the smell of a dead rodent under the floor, but I’ll admit this is an exception among vegetables.

    Moon, are you really a giant? or is that just relative to West Indian family groups?

    I see Pickles as porcine and Jabba as amphibious, ET.
    Second what Reine said, and if you need opinions along the r&d route, I’m sure we’ll all be delighted to chime in.

    • HenryLloydMoon permalink
      January 17, 2011 5:48 AM

      6’5”

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 17, 2011 10:43 PM

      Spectacular. I have a few friends at that altitude. One of them remarked memorably years ago that tall people get no sympathy, whereas small people evoke nurturing.
      I suspect there’s truth to that, at least I’ve never forgotten it. Certainly true in terms of expectations of our children.
      You’re at that point where everything needs adjustment to fit properly, desk on blocks, that sort of thing. It’s a nuisance, but well worth seeing to.

      When my son was about 17, I got him an extra-long mattress so his feet wouldn’t hang off the end. He was so delighted, I wished I’d done it sooner. His poor ankles had been hanging out there in space.

    • Reine permalink
      January 17, 2011 10:55 PM

      I’m consumed with guilt now; D sleeps at a diagonal (on a king size bed) in order to fit his frame in. What a bad mother I am.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 17, 2011 11:30 PM

      No, Re. I’m won’t allow that. If he has a king size, he’s not hanging off it.
      What could you do beyond that? Anyway LE is only 6’3.
      We should share birth stories sometime (probably not here ;)

    • Reine permalink
      January 17, 2011 11:39 PM

      Mine can be encapsulated by a scream.

  46. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 12:11 AM

    I think it’s very enjoyable (I haven’t watched tonight’s episode yet).
    Apparently, you can’t watch BBC iPlayer in Ireland (unless you’re tech-savvy enough to use a UK proxy server)), but you can download the 2 episodes you’ve not seen from:

    http://hotfile.com/dl/93767071/a63087d/Zen.1×01.Vendetta.HDTV_XviD-FoV.avi.html

    http://hotfile.com/dl/95581951/6e7c1de/zen.1×02.cabal.hdtv_xvid-fov.avi.html

    I recommend the Michael Dibdin books that they’re based on, too. Mowbray didn’t get on with the books, poor chap. Watching him attempt to insert them into his DVD player was pitiable (though amusing).

  47. January 17, 2011 9:41 AM

    I hope no-one had the misfortune to hear Cameron on Radio 4 this morning.

    The man is a bigger liar than Blair which is no mean achievement but doesn’t seem remotely bothered or contrite when his lies are pointed out to him. Osborne is the same whilst Gove does a little cross-eyed look before carrying on which suggests that his wiring has picked up something which doesn’t compute.

    “wiring” – you can tell I’m au fait with th digital world can’t you?

  48. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 10:32 AM

    I’m happy to say I missed him, but what can one expect? Cameron is an ex-PR man–lying is what he does. As a PR flak, he’d tell you his clients weren’t pissing in your soup, they’re adding liquid sunshine.

    Evidently, the prick is in the House today, defending cuts to the NHS–you remember–the NHS that was ‘sacrosanct’ and ‘ring-fenced’ in all his campaign guff?

    I think (and hope) that we’re going to have an election a lot sooner than expected. Pity Labour have such a putz for a leader.

  49. January 17, 2011 11:07 AM

    I suppose we should be grateful that his arrogance means Cameron gives the game away so easily but such arrogance also means reasonable debate isn’t worth bothering with. This morning he had no answers to the accusations put to him but made sure he ended on a “Britain is great” speech. Infuriating.

    MM’s point about the Aristotelian growth of millions of jobs from nothing is extremely well made as well as grimly funny.

  50. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 11:19 AM

    Just listened to the vomit-inducing Cameron on Today (iPlayer). All this bollocks he spouts about giving patients ‘power’ and ‘choice’ is risible tosh. If you’re a patient with, say, cancer, ‘power’ and ‘choice’ are irrelevant: you’re not a doctor–you don’t know what treatment and medication you need. You just want the best treatment and medication available.

    As for Cameron’s contention that bringing in the private sector will ‘bring down costs’, this is so absurd as to make one wonder that he has the effrontery to propose it.

    Check out the US, you moron. That’s what happens when you turn it over to the private sector: costs rocket, a huge portion of your population can’t afford medical care and the ones who can, have their treatment dictated by insurance creeps looking to maximise shareholder profits. The shareholders would prefer that you just go away and die.

    The man is either A. a complete imbecile or B. a scheming, lying scumbag–quite possibly both.

    As for Cameron’s bullshit about ‘bonuses haven’t been finalised’ in the tax-payer owned banks and his ‘I do want to see…’ and ‘I do hope..’; one doesn’t know whether to laugh or spit–I did both.

  51. January 17, 2011 11:43 AM

    If I’m ill I don’t want to shop around I just want someone to make me better in the best way possible. If Cameron was remotely interested in the NHS he’d be looking at ways of improving that aspect not finding ways that outside people can make money out of it.

    Sorry to raise you temperature can I offer this beauty asa a way of lowering it again? I’ve probably posted this before but you can’t have too much Norstein imho

  52. January 17, 2011 11:51 AM

    This is great too but probably only if Yuri Norstein is a hero of yours

  53. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 2:11 PM

    Hilariously clueless article on Hillary Clinton’s ‘feminism’ by Madelaine ‘Bubblehead’ Bunting in today’s Graun. Bunting contends that ‘…She is the most powerful politician to advance an explicitly feminist agenda.’ Really? Let’s see…

    Gitmo still open for business

    USA ramping up for war with Iran, Yemen, N Korea & Venezuela

    USA re-arming & re-training Georgia

    USA building missile silos in Poland, aimed at Russia

    USA secret black prison in Bagram doubled in size in just one year

    USA Camp Bondsteel in Europe being expanded as a military nervecentre

    USA military presence in Afghanistan increased – despite pledges to step-down

    US support for Japanese illegal whaling remains staunch

    Yep. Those zany feminists–what’ll they think of next? Well, actually ‘…On countless occasions since arriving at the state department, Clinton has asserted that the rights of women and girls are now core to US foreign policy…’. Yeah, right.

    Unless, of course, you’re a Palestinian woman or an Afghan woman or a Haitian woman or…still..never mind, eh? because according to Bunting ‘…She mentioned women 450 times in speeches in the first five months in office.’

    This may come as a shock to you Madelaine, but whether a politician mentions something 450 times or 4.5 million times means less than how many times my dog farts.

    Instead, count how many times Hillary mentions the repellent Saudi regime’s treatment of women.

    Or as Robert Fisk puts it in The Independent:

    Indeed, what was Hillary Clinton doing last week as Tunisia burned? She was telling the corrupted princes of the Gulf that their job was to support sanctions against Iran, to confront the Islamic republic, to prepare for another strike against a Muslim state after the two catastrophes the United States and the UK have already inflicted in the region.

    Get a grip, Madelaine. Idiot.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 17, 2011 9:04 PM

      I can never think of Hillary now without remembering ‘the bald presidential twat’, courtesy of HLM.

  54. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 17, 2011 9:05 PM

    Probably A Good Thing, In Hindsight

    Once mundane, now many-coloured convert,
    a chromatic car-crash of blob and line
    generated through contingent design,
    my pride, my child, my tie-dyed T-shirt.

    Surely this swirling abstract would assert
    with more authority than my star-sign
    the certificate needed to combine
    with space cadettes at a Hawkwind concert?

    Oh no. On the diurnal laundry quest
    meddling maternal hands rooting in my drawer
    found the glamorous garment lurking there
    and mistook it for a sweat-stained ancient vest.

    Ignoring its beauty, its magic lustre,
    they tore it into psychedelic dusters.

    • mishari permalink*
      January 17, 2011 9:09 PM

      A charming traipse (or should that be an aimless stagger) down memory lane there, you old hippy…remember: smash the state…and pass the spliff.

    • Reine permalink
      January 17, 2011 10:55 PM

      Rocking.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 17, 2011 11:23 PM

      Poetic discipline brings order to the wildness of youth.

  55. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 9:07 PM

    Simon Hoggart was in good form today on that idiot Cameron’s latest speech:

    Like Blair, he is a master of the resonant yet baffling phrase. “We must champion excellence!” he said. He deployed “the people argument” which means “focusing on what people really care about”.

    Er, OK. “Some decisions will be difficult and will involve difficulties,” he averred. That’s what difficult decisions do – they involve difficulties. The phrase “that needed saying!” somehow died on the lips.

    All the time, the health and education secretaries gazed up at him from the front row, as if listening to an important speech in the Politburo.

    The more you listen, the more your mind gets snagged on Cameronisms. For example, he praised the people who work in our schools. “Teachers nurture the human capital that will create enterprise!” he said, and I found myself in the warm fug of a classroom as some poor sod prises himself out of an armchair and says wearily: “I suppose I’d better go and nurture the human capital that is year nine.”

    The gist was that people who work in public services are terrific folk. We need to “revere, cherish and reward them for their ethos of public service”.

    But they shouldn’t be in charge. Who should be? Why, the people of course. “People are the drivers, not the passengers!” he said. I hope that doesn’t apply on public transport. You might as well say, “people are the surgeons, not the patients!”

    In the NHS, he wants to bring in something called “bottom-up innovation”. Why do I always assume this means that doctors should shift to the French method and prescribe suppositories?

    • January 17, 2011 11:06 PM

      A bit unfair to the Politburo, who would at least have had the good sense to build a WEA on the playing fields of Eton.

  56. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 9:55 PM

    Oh, Jesus…

    The Wire actor Dominic West is to play Fred West in a drama about the Gloucester killer’s final months, ITV has said.

    ITV’s Appropriate Adult will focus on the period between Fred West’s arrest and his suicide on 1 January 1995.-bbc.co.uk

  57. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 17, 2011 10:34 PM

    I won’t be watching that one.

    Wonder if Cameron thinks of his own kids as ‘human capital’? What a horrible phrase.

  58. January 17, 2011 11:17 PM

    Nice poem there, MM.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 17, 2011 11:41 PM

      Thanks, Simon. Any news from the Rooshians?

    • January 19, 2011 10:49 AM

      No, nothing from the Russkis, but just this morning got an email from Qatar, who want me to fly there on the 28th. Bit warmer than Ekaterinburg…

  59. Reine permalink
    January 17, 2011 11:20 PM

    Disco Balls-Up

    A catsuit seemed a good idea
    For the ’70s dazzle disco
    Floral, spangled, low-cut front
    Straight off the streets of ‘Frisco

    Big hair, falsh lashes, lots of kohl
    Completed the angel look
    And my platforms from Vintage Vixen
    Would keep Charlie on the hook

    Meanwhile, Bosley, J-Boz was lisping
    Into my gold hooped ear
    About whether he could use my cleavage
    To smuggle in his gear

    A drugs mule in a catsuit
    Was thus my maven metier
    And as I approached the bouncer
    I got sweatier and sweatier

    Safely past the entrance
    I dashed off for a pee
    And having wriggled out of a catsuit
    I flushed a ten spot out to sea

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 17, 2011 11:50 PM

      Pretty good, that. Metier/sweatier – inspired.

      What’s a ten spot?

    • Reine permalink
      January 17, 2011 11:53 PM

      ten quids worth of hash rolled up in tin foil.

      Thank you. Not a patch on the tie dye.

  60. hic8ubique permalink
    January 17, 2011 11:43 PM

    I loathed disco. Fantastic story though.
    Having put my dashiki and coke bottle glasses in an earlier poem, I haven’t much more to confess.

    What about you Mishari? Anything sartorially ignominious you care to share amongst friends?
    That fringed velvet cod-piece, perhaps?

    And Simon? a Zoot suit?

    Just caught up with MM’s Whan that Aprilllll… . Most enjoyable.

    • Reine permalink
      January 17, 2011 11:50 PM

      Yes, MM shows a definite flare (sic) for medieval balladeering.

      I had some slick dancefloor moves back in the day. Fond memories.

  61. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 11:48 PM

    Oh, yes indeed…I’m tinkering with a piece on a blindingly white, linen Armani suit that I was deluded enough to buy in the mid-t0-late seventies. I cringe when I think of it.

    • Reine permalink
      January 17, 2011 11:55 PM

      Are you really a prince Mishari or just very rich? The kind of Armani suit it was de rigeur to let it all hang loose in?

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 18, 2011 12:10 AM

      It was Andreachi who told the world of HRH’s blue blood. I wasn’t surprised: certain similarities to our own Prince Charles had long been apparent to me.

  62. mishari permalink*
    January 17, 2011 11:59 PM

    I’m a very humble man…I daresay I’m the humblest man in Western Europe.

  63. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 12:04 AM

    You are a gem of humility, there’s no doubt about it. If you have any other Armani stuff, I’ll email my address and an SAE!

  64. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 12:11 AM

    The fabric was lovely, a sort of rough-woven linen with nubbins but the trousers were flared (it was virtually impossible to get off-the-rack trousers that weren’t back then) the jacket-lining was a violent purple and the jacket had these weird half-moon, slash pockets. This was before Armani was all that widely-known and I thought I was one hellishly cool fellow…Jesus…a white suit…I ask you. I looked like Al Pacino in Scarface…complete with scar.

    • Reine permalink
      January 18, 2011 12:13 AM

      “I looked like Al Pacino in Scarface. ” … and what, might I ask, is wrong with that?

  65. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 18, 2011 12:12 AM

    I am going upstairs, and I may be some time.

  66. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 12:15 AM

    I predict you’ll be about 8 hours. I see these things for I am not as other men [You can fucking say that again, chum-Ed.

  67. hic8ubique permalink
    January 18, 2011 12:31 AM

    Were you a pimp as well?
    I always thought the ‘Prince’ talk sounded a bit junior for Mishari. Too diminutive.
    I guess I missed that one by a mile.
    So, Armani suits are expensive? They aren’t Eastern Establishment (in the Boston sense) so I wouldn’t know. My only impression is that they wouldn’t have back vent(s).
    I’m feeling fairly humble myself just now.

    What I really want to know about is the scar! Its story and location, please, Most Humble One.
    (Sorry about the pimp joke. x)

  68. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 12:45 AM

    Oh, it had back vents, 2 of ’em–I wouldn’t buy a jacket that didn’t. It was, I suppose, very expensive at the time (for an off-the-rack suit) but I’ve no idea what Armani suits cost now…I haven’t bought an off-the-rack suit in years. Scar down right cheek, no real story, just an altercation that got out of hand and a useful reminder to not let my attention wander when I should be concentrating.

  69. hic8ubique permalink
    January 18, 2011 1:59 AM

    Yes, double-vented is best.
    Sparse on detail re your scar, but I did have an idea it wasn’t from chicken-pox.

    That’s a chilling litany for Madeleine Bunting.

    On Cameron, I wouldn’t trust his ‘choice’ euphemism either. It could portend restricted access to care for those who can’t ‘choose’ to pay a premium.
    It’s insidious language because choice is in fact a therapeutic consideration. For example, a patient must be the one to decide whether to opt for a high risk procedure rather than conservative management.
    There are many scenarios where a patient’s choice can be a factor in healing.

    I have a friend who opted for prophylactic radical mastectomy (no evidence of cancer) because there was a family history of an aggressive form. The cancer was subsequently found in her breast tissue at a diagnostically undetectable level. I’m sure you’d agree that such treatment could only be the patient’s choice, even though it proved lifesaving.

  70. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 8:26 AM

    You’re right about ‘choice’. Of course, Pie-Face Cameron doesn’t mean it in any recognisably useful way. It’s just a buzz-word that slimy politicians use, like ’empowerment’. Politicians must be judged by what they do. By their fruits shall ye know them. And what Cameron’s doing is attempting to hand the NHS over to his pals in the private sector. It’s what Tories do. Cameron’s use of the repellent phrase ‘human capital’ was telling–that’s what people are to Cameron and his ilk: commodities to be exploited for profit.

  71. January 18, 2011 9:34 AM

    Judging by his comments yesterday Cameron has no real idea as to why his new plans are better than what was before in terms of patient care.

    The only reason for all this restructuring is to introduce money-making possibilities into the system for outside carbon-based, human-capital units.

    I think the Tory’s dream is for a nation of insecure shelf-stackers lorded over by a bunch of moneyed unaccountable-to-
    no-one toffs. But that’s just me.

  72. January 18, 2011 10:42 AM

    damn these double negatives – accountable-to-no-one is what I meant.

    I’m so not wanting to not express myself unlike that.

  73. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 18, 2011 3:21 PM

    Don’t worry about it – I didn’t even notice that you hadn’t not done it.

    • January 18, 2011 3:24 PM

      That’s not really not good of you not to have not said it. Not.

  74. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 18, 2011 3:22 PM

    This Is M&S Dysfunction

    I wasn’t expecting action,
    and the weather was cold and wet,
    so I had my warmest clothes on
    and my two-part underwear set.

    Some hours later I was stripping
    in an apartment near St Paul’s,
    I’d finished all the unzipping
    and I was standing in my smalls.

    At that moment she turned around.
    ‘Oh God, you look just like my Dad!’
    Then she snickered, and at that sound
    a vital piece of me was dead.

    I did my best, but in a while
    I was out in the street in the rain.
    Christians might like his fighting style:
    I can’t trust St Michael again.

  75. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 18, 2011 3:25 PM

    Ask before you post next time, ‘Joan’. Or write your own.

  76. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 5:27 PM

    Who the hell is ‘Joan’?

  77. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 5:40 PM

    Mrs M?

  78. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 5:55 PM

    “These are no ordinary smalls, these are M&S smalls, brushed cotton interlocking front panel, reinforced pouch extending into double gusset, soft chambray cradling firm buttocks, fleeced breathable nap for maximum comfort…”

    Sorry, sorry… got carried away there for a minute.

  79. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 5:55 PM

    Oh…you mean Mrs. MM posted that M&S poem without MM’s permission? The hussy…

  80. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 5:58 PM

    It’s my current theory.

  81. January 18, 2011 6:42 PM

    What the hell is going on?

  82. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    January 18, 2011 6:44 PM

    Wear M&S for S&M
    And risk ill-timed flaccidity
    Try B&Q for DIY
    To harness your rigidity

  83. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 6:52 PM

    Oh Joan, oh Joan, you make me moan
    When you stand there in your knickers
    But how am I to fill my brief
    To the score of your shrill snickers?

  84. HenryLloydMoon permalink
    January 18, 2011 7:19 PM

    A special Treet would be to eat
    Snickers or other bars
    As meat and greet. Rockstar conceit!
    I’m Faithfull to my Mars

  85. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 7:24 PM

    I know that MM’s partial
    To the swirling charm of Twirl
    For far from being martial
    He’s really a big girl.

  86. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 7:26 PM

    You and your Mars, him and his Twirl
    Then who will lick the biscuit?
    It’s quite a wonder any girl
    Would see your treats and risk it

  87. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 7:27 PM

    Snap Mishari. All this because we don’t know who “Joan” is.

  88. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 7:42 PM

    Perhaps we’re on the wrong track entirely and ‘Joan’ (the Catalan version of ‘Juan’) is a male acquaintance (and versification rival) of MM’s?

    Here’s to MeltonMowbray
    Who dines on spud and KitKat
    Both are cooked the Mowbray way
    Deep-fried in rancid chip-fat.

  89. MeltonMowbray permalink
    January 18, 2011 7:53 PM

    Someone called ‘Joan Terreson’ posted my T-shirt poem above on the baby poetry thread (you should put your ‘Lottery’ up there, HLM) on the books blog. No profile history so I assume it’s Desmond Swords. I have no idea why he did it.

    I got it deleted, not that I care particularly, but it’s got nothing to do with the thread. And you should always ask nicely.

    It sparked off some good stuff on here, at least. Mrs M’s interest in poetry is zero. If it hasn’t got functions of a complex variable in it it’s not worth looking at.

  90. January 18, 2011 8:00 PM

    Complex variables! top of the pops!
    Though I’m told they are not
    Available in shops.

    Poetry! Stuff with rhymes
    Not for everyone though
    Like lemons or limes

  91. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 8:07 PM

    Rescuing Ezra From The Pound

    Real poems
    Don’t rhyme;
    They express
    Feelings and
    Thoughts in
    Profound and
    Recondite
    Language
    Chopped up
    Into short
    Lines:
    Like
    This.

  92. hic8ubique permalink
    January 18, 2011 8:27 PM

    I took it the PH Mystery Novel had commenced,
    but it was only a teacup tempest.
    Des has the functions of a variable complex;
    he’s a veritable personae palimpsest.

  93. January 18, 2011 9:20 PM

    Now’s a good time for some German over-the-topness…

  94. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 9:49 PM

    Fucking hell, Steven! That’s what I call the ‘hard sell’. I’m astonished it was shown at all (I’m assuming it was, before it was banned?).

    • January 18, 2011 9:59 PM

      I’m not sure if it aired on network (no TV round these parts) though I wouldn’t be surprised (remember the Joiman condom-commercial featuring Uncle Addy, pumping away, equating unprotected sex with mass-murderers or something ?)… but I am sure they made the thing precisely to go viral on Das YouTube!

  95. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 10:09 PM

    I just had a look at it on youtube. It’s only had about 50,000 views in a year and a half, which is nothing, really. One of the comments made me laugh, though:

    “So, they’re saying Sprite tastes like cum?”

    • January 18, 2011 10:13 PM

      I, too, laughed at this

    • January 18, 2011 10:16 PM

      There’s a very funny bilingual video by Rammstein called, erm, “German Pussy” that I’d post if I weren’t afraid of revealing my louche barbarity with a single mouse click…

  96. January 18, 2011 10:22 PM

    Let’s hope there’s a German viral ad for Brillo Pads.

    • January 18, 2011 10:28 PM

      (all of my wittily-louche-and-barbarous reflexes are stifled in the presence of genteel company)

  97. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 10:23 PM

    Go on, man…your louche barbarity holds no terrors for us; we’ re even cool with cats in zero gravity:

  98. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 10:39 PM

    Kraut rock…it’s all about subtlety. Nice production values, though.

  99. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 10:41 PM

    I feel I need a brillo pad for my eyes now.

    Watched that with my son. Marvellous family togetherness. I will now lecture him on the unadvisability of spending too much time watching porn and then turn myself in to Barnardos.

    • January 18, 2011 10:48 PM

      (Sprite-shriveling guilt)

    • reine permalink
      January 18, 2011 11:52 PM

      Oh don’t be guilty on my account Steven. I suspect the video will have a few more hits by tomorrow when the sixth year lads hear about it. They may pretend they are extending their German vocab in advance of their oral exams.

  100. Reine permalink
    January 18, 2011 10:42 PM

    I fear I will be humming that tune for some time to come.

  101. mishari permalink*
    January 18, 2011 11:58 PM

    My boys have pissed themselves laughing at that Sprite ad. All their equally filthy-minded chums have been alerted. I expect that video really will go viral now: there’s no more excitable demographic than prurient teens.

  102. January 19, 2011 12:06 AM

    OK ‘Melanie’, you had me at ‘hello duckie’; i thought you’d requested an intervention; ‘take it down’ Your Community Moderatorness, some hussy id (only you guessed correctly), is stealing babies (as Amiri Baraka calls his poems) brandishing a very recent knock-off of mine, advertizing one’s talent here, on a lovely new-mum’s blog about how AF cries soo much over tinny wimmy’s oscar the dalek dress – wow woo ooh, amazingly upbeat, a happy yappy puppy clone, the younger crone learning still the ropes of being English in language, AF; swapping yummy babba talk ’bout how fabulously talented tha wickle speckle newborn is, special, wise, important baby-poem ‘up for grabs’, advertizing how English ice-queens imbuing Devon & Northants (really, really clued into how ye do it), exude the sound knit sweetly in spoken song, in a poem, Melanie Wight, Melt; ye can you see how sad one is, thinking your poem a splendid example of something exciting to me, on its own merit, your baby-poem (fit for killing), if we so decide; as Baraka says ‘… i’ll just kill you and make another one’; being a poetry goddess Melt, the new you, dearest, deepest comer-on, in a few short years, from plod plod plod to this; accepting a compliment from Mrs T., when I read:

    Probably A Good Thing, In Hindsight

    Once mundane, now many-coloured convert,
    a chromatic car-crash of blob and line
    generated through contingent design,
    my pride, my child, my tie-dyed T-shirt.

    My other half was struck by a truly authentic and inventive Melt, far advanced from the early semesters one read your poetic responses, and did not detect such singularly original arrangements as this: ‘chromatic car-crash of blob and line’, enjambed flawlessly, from a humble foclo of the first grade, through seven semesters spent acquiring five more, universally recognized poetic grades: Macfuirmid, Dos, Cano, Cli, and arriving at the penultimate, sixth grade of Anruth – ‘great stream’ – five years away from attaining your final, highest, most sacred, profane, sorrowful & comedic poetry professorship of (pron. ulav) Ollamh vein, your log n-ech ‘face-price’ for spinning bardic dán, brings to us a collective cultural memory – On Coimgne – bodies and souls formed by our Sidhe, two parents four grands, eight greats sixteen GG’s 32 gee gee G’s and 72 towers on Shinar plain, to Nimrod stretching far back past famine daze – easy to forget, pay lip service to – losing the run of ourself, tripping into a delusionally induced madness, created in brief bursts of abundent imbas from the islands’ ship of states heading straight & two staggering things, some claim, are most furthest from us – Sovereign ”us’ normal people waking to the outline, this year’s Imbolg winning rhymes tipping thru, lighting winter portal-point, spring our practice for the good of natural unity, in these unprecedented times, necessary rhymes from an artist-pool making broke, poetic magic, padding out to a jolly decent dos/cli phase, graded baby-poem, because it is one, in the strictes sense of a narrator equating a tie-dyed t shirt to one of the oh so special baby-poems that thread of celebration through this prose-poem, weaving freely versed, legitimately allowed – in on the basis of that – to toss a bit of reality into the guff of all these approved square playas with silly/serious names, Melanie my darling

    Surely this swirling abstract would assert
    with more authority than my star-sign
    the certificate needed to combine
    with space cadettes at a Hawkwind concert?

    By now, i am thinking wow, this is so brilliant AF is confused, knowing i’s an indeniably successful ‘experimental’ avant-garde poem, from an anonymous poet who is, actually, pretty fucking good; late-bloomer, but when issues around baby-poems crop up, cleverly Melanie’s mind is on board calling for yummy gummy (weep weep) babba doggerel, the one Yeats composed for his own, eldest child, not the boy he had been supremely expecting thru the runes and mystic chune he babbled with tattwas, automatic writing & AF, owt to lurnch urghm, grrl; soon- she is that talented, suited to a breezy tweet-mode, imitating her hag-muse god@work shut ’em up, knock em blind with a poem, any poem, Editor:

    Oh no. On the diurnal laundry quest
    meddling maternal hands rooting in my drawer
    found the glamorous garment lurking there
    and mistook it for a sweat-stained ancient vest.

    Genuinely not taking the michael Mel darling, this is in the specific ball park of what it is, the crazee quirky slant drawer/there rhyme bhouy, nutmegging a pretender, AF, wanting only yummy ummmy, and more balls, buckets, floods, tears of Joy: a fucking act mate; wholly bollocks, the same-old same-as crone rival-replacement-fwend of a sniffy English editor, another achingly grrl at tweet, their list of dramas, parts, pieces, entire stock of works existing in a particular artistic field that a company, actor, singer, or the like, is prepared to perform; their literate répertoire runs to tweeting two line communiques, ‘can’t wait for’ blah blah’s next philosophy tract & poetic trieste on in the spiffy shop, let me talk and tell ya’ll aint it just a crock of horseshit, being on one’s toes, language an avenue and cul de sac, swizzed outta there man, by an anonymous Community Moderator acting like they is Jane. Jane fucking Blonde, three potato sacks in one dress, two white cans and a black and white mat

    this hand
    this hand

    Ignoring its beauty, its magic lustre,
    they tore it into psychedelic dusters.

    A much freer imaginative melding Melto mate, than three year back when we first met and began a (non) relationship that led us to this; a denoument of sorts, all the past nonsense, posturing, acting in Letters of traffic passing between us, journey proved above, thus:

    For the moment I can’t figure out the list poem but I’ll browse the book when I get a chance and maybe it will appear to me.

    Thanks for the note anyway,
    and warm best wishes,

    Dear Jerome.

    Thanks very much. The rythm of it is there alright in my head, and tho the words may be wrong, summat like

    two white cans
    my hands
    my hands
    two white cans and a black and white cat

    These words apart from the hands are all wrong, and maybe a can in there, a piece of string I think is deffo in there, but the rhythm of it is similar, bcuz I remember laughing out loud when I read it. I was reading it bcuz it was the first drama class of the second year’s second semester, the modernism module, and we’d been told by the tutor to bring in a piece of art, painting, poem, anything – that held some essence of what we thought Modernism was.

    For the poetry module on in the writing side of the course (BA Writing studies & Drama), taught by Robert Sheppard, yr two anthologies were the core books, and I flicked through volume one the night before the drama class and this poem was the first one that leapt off the page (Mayakovsky’s Listen! was the second).

    Hope the above doesn’t hinder.

    Thanks very much for taking the time to help out a bardic bluffer waffling in Dublin.

    Sincerely

    The attached “Still Life” by Theo van Doesburg is obviously the poem you’re looking for. Funny but I had forgotten all about it — although it’s my translation — until you called it up. So … many thanks for that, and whatever else I can do, just let me know.

    Cheers & best,

    Chaos
    All muddled up
    A glass of tea
    Some cups
    Some pots
    And get a fresh look
    at what’s lying there –
    This is the shadow
    of the shadow of
    a candlestick!
    A piece of paper
    & a can in blue
    green
    brown
    black
    white &
    copper
    An ash tray with
    a pipe stem
    & a very heavy book
    in blue & yellow
    with something that looks brown
    inside a black can

    And the candle there!
    The light! The light!

    And a mist around them
    & their glow
    Some spoons
    Something that’s gleaming
    on the gold rim of the
    cups
    And there’s another piece of paper
    “Courant”
    on which lies: a red match
    a couple of blue pamphlets
    a little piece of string atop
    a small red box
    And then the cloth!
    Half a chair
    there in the mist
    a little further back
    And how the yellow cloth becomes
    greengray
    & that much softer
    And then here
    &nbsp:    and here
    here on the paper’s
    garish white
    are two black nails
    one that looks real & one a silhouette
    my hand
    my hand

    a hill with murky caves
    in which a rafter lies
    between two clumps of clay
    wedged tight.

    Theo van Doesburg (1883-1931)

    translation by Jeorome Rothenberg

    Hartley Coleridge. come out, your time is ready, again the brave sat on ass scholar creeps out the pre-ordained exit, whole the rationale and our very own English, this is not

    • January 19, 2011 12:15 AM

      Chaos
      All muddled up
      A glass of tea
      Some cups
      Some pots
      And get a fresh look
      at what’s lying there –
      This is the shadow
      of the shadow of
      a candlestick!
      A piece of paper
      & a can in blue
      green
      brown
      black
      white &
      copper
      An ash tray with
      a pipe stem
      & a very heavy book
      in blue & yellow
      with something that looks brown
      inside a black can

      And the candle there!
      The light! The light!

      And a mist around them
      & their glow
      Some spoons
      Something that’s gleaming
      on the gold rim of the
      cups
      And there’s another piece of paper
      “Courant”
      on which lies: a red match
      a couple of blue pamphlets
      a little piece of string atop
      a small red box
      And then the cloth!
      Half a chair
      there in the mist
      a little further back
      And how the yellow cloth becomes
      greengray
      & that much softer
      And then here
      &nbsp:    and here
      here on the paper’s
      garish white
      are two black nails
      one that looks real & one a silhouette
      my hand
      my hand

      a hill with murky caves
      in which a rafter lies
      between two clumps of clay
      wedged tight.

      Theo van Doesburg (1883-1931)

      translation by Jeorome Rothenberg

  103. January 19, 2011 12:41 AM

    Chaos
    All muddled up
    A glass of tea
    Some cups
    Some pots
    And get a fresh look
    at what’s lying there –
    This is the shadow
    of the shadow of
    a candlestick!
    A piece of paper
    & a can in blue
    green
    brown
    black
    white &
    copper
    An ash tray with
    a pipe stem
    & a very heavy book
    in blue & yellow
    with something that looks brown
    inside a black can

    And the candle there!
    The light! The light!

    And a mist around them
    & their glow
    Some spoons
    Something that’s gleaming
    on the gold rim of the
    cups
    And there’s another piece of paper
    “Courant”
    on which lies: a red match
    a couple of blue pamphlets
    a little piece of string atop
    a small red box
    And then the cloth!
    Half a chair
    there in the mist
    a little further back
    And how the yellow cloth becomes
    greengray
    & that much softer
    And then here
         and here
    here on the paper’s
    garish white
    are two black nails
    one that looks real & one a silhouette
    my hand
    my hand

    a hill with murky caves
    in which a rafter lies
    between two clumps of clay
    wedged tight.

    Theo van Doesburg (1883-1931)

    translation by Jeorome Rothenberg

    Hopefully this will be how it should appear, a bit of code   (that creates a space) stuck out because i mistakenly typed &nbsp: (with a colon) instead of   (with a semi-colon). The lightest error can create an ugly flawed baby-poem one must kill, remove all trace of one’s failed baby poems.

    ha ha ha

    I noticed on Poetry editor Don Share’s blog, Squandramania, first, how italicized words can make all the difference, because they occcur in the poetic consciousness of our general reader, prepared to be impressed and not know why – when the author knows what codes to render flawlessly, most things spoken we could dream about, and in this one, again, without the italicized words, this first wave modern object in free verse, that most poetry puritans were resistant to at the time, and also, Rothenberg’s editorial decisions, may well have pimped this baby up beyond what it originally is, i dunno (not having seen the orginal Dutch version), but I do know the eye that wrought this baby to live in English, is king of the crazees, head avant, forward edged Californian poet (i think), certainly UCL is home to that chunk of AmPo history and current streams of cutting egde bonkers, we all have learned. From your own MM, i learnt we are all unique, from blackbirds in the back garden with CS, to this whopper fluid free verse strewn together more authentically than most, even though you are semi-taking-the-mick, as we all do, imitating the crazees and out-barmying ’em with our plod, plod home, music within, poetry soul, you got twisted Mel M, man. Call the cops.

  104. January 19, 2011 12:51 AM

    Sorry. I won’t publish Mel Wight again without your permission MM.

    • MeltonMowbray permalink
      January 19, 2011 11:11 AM

      Fuck your apology, you prick.

  105. January 19, 2011 12:59 AM

    “They may pretend they are extending their German vocab in advance of their [wait for it] oral exams.”

  106. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 1:02 AM

    Boom boom…yeah, I clocked it, too. That Reine…she’s a scamp.

  107. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 1:14 AM

    I have, in a demonstration of brain-shrinkage hitherto unsurpassed by mortal man, just managed (in an effort to hone the perfect pencil-point) whittled my pencil down to a nubbin so small that I can’t hold it to write with–mind you, the point is just right…maybe I should go to bed.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 19, 2011 2:33 AM

      Mishari of the Tiny Nubbin.
      I hope that’s one of our non sequiturs, rather than a general shrinkage affliction.

      Just a dobby week for nubbins…

  108. January 19, 2011 9:01 AM

    You’ve obvs been getting pencil-sharpening lessons from the Third Policeman Mishari.

    Also writing???????????? With a pencil????????? I thought my continuing dalliance with brush and ink drawing was old skool.

  109. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 9:08 AM

    I like writing (and sketching…oh, alright, doodling) in pencil. One has more control over the end result. Press down harder, darker colour; use the point, fine line; use the edge, broad line etc etc…and I like the smell of pencil-shavings…perhaps a bit too much, which explains why my last pencil is more shavings than, erm…pencil.

    Did you hear the latest wheeze from this government of none of the talents? Early intervention bonds? The utter fatuity of the idea is quite breathtaking. It was outlined by some government bozo on Today this morning and promptly exploded by an academic who actually understands the subject.

  110. January 19, 2011 11:02 AM

    You’re speaking with a fellow convert here – I draw a lot in crayon. A lovely variety of line and some quality shavings too – lumps of wood at times.

    After Cameron and Lansley and…. oh the whole fucking shower of right wing bastards a few day’s ago I’ve avoided listening to Today. Too depressing.

  111. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 12:46 PM

    Remember a couple of months ago, the new commander of NATO forces in Afghanistan said that they were ‘…turning the corner…’ (after 9 years)? Well, here’s how things are going on the ‘corner’:

    A motorised rickshaw packed with civilian passengers struck a roadside bomb in eastern Afghanistan today, triggering a blast that killed all 13 people in the vehicle.

    The blast happened in the Khoshamad district of eastern Paktika province, the interior ministry said in a statement, adding that women and children were among the dead.

    Civilians are increasingly the victims of the escalating Afghan war, particular from planted bombs on roads and in markets. A recent United Nations report said it documented 2,412 conflict-related civilian casualties in the first 10 months of 2010. More than three-quarters were caused by militant activity, a 25% increase from the same period in 2009, the report said.

    In western Herat province last night, a rocket hit a civilian house during a fight between insurgents and Nato forces in the area, government spokesman Shafiq Berozyan said. One child was killed and another 10 people were wounded, he said.

    On Saturday, six civilians were killed when their minibus hit a bomb in southern Helmand province. On Sunday, a station wagon carrying a family of nine people struck a bomb in northern Baghlan province, killing all of those aboard.–The Independent, today

    It’s one hell of a corner.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 19, 2011 1:26 PM

      Hell indeed. Horrific beyond imagining. I realise this sounds futile and maybe even vain, but I have a pair of bright lapis lazuli earrings and think of the Afghan women every time I put them on. The stones are somehow a concrete connection to that bit of earth.

      I’d like to see some examples of these sketches, Pencil Mishari and Crayon ET. Have you ever illustrated a thread with your own drawing, M?
      I’m especially partial to sepia Conte crayon.
      Mt grandfather did lot of quick sketches in N.Africa in the 40’s for a book that was never published. He was a terrible writer, but the sketches were wonderful.

    • January 19, 2011 2:06 PM

      There’s a whole bunch of my brush and acrylic ink drawings on Steven Augustine’s Endless Thread ( number 7.0 I think ).

      I went to check but the page is so full of barbaric loucheness that my computer gave up the ghost trying to download it. My laptop can cope with the volume of texts, images and YouTubery but that’s nowhere near me at the moment.

      The crayon drawings don’t scan particularly well so I don’t bother with virtual versions of them. The acrylic ink paintings come out better but I could still make uses for why they are better in the flesh.

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 19, 2011 2:25 PM

      Thanks ET! I’ll make a point of hunting them down when this day lets go of me…

    • January 19, 2011 7:50 PM

      Gosh, M, haven’t you heard the President’s slickly-cadenced, super-cynical speeches which are opportunistically reminiscent of Martin Luther King’s…?

  112. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 1:06 PM

    That creepy Cameron is up to no good. What’s he building?

  113. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 3:27 PM

    I popped a few films in the post for you yesterday, Ed, including Baaria, a Sicilian film you might enjoy. ‘True Grit’ is a terrific film and you’ll want to see it on the big screen.

    The version I’ve sent you and MM is what’s called a ‘DVD Screener’–it’s what the studios send out to the critics before the film’s actually released. It’s perfectly watchable, though. You might like this, off an LP I played to death when I was 16:

  114. January 19, 2011 3:49 PM

    Thanks very much – I will see True Grit on the big screen.

    Did you catch The Social Network? I enjoyed it a lot but wasn’t sure if everyone in it was meant to be quite as repulsive as they were or whether it was just me being an old git out of touch with what passes for cool these days.

    Justin Timberlake is spectacularly unpleasant in it – full marks to him if that was his intention. I kept thinking that usually Hollywood actors try and get their roles made more sympathetic – if that was the case then his role as the guy who set up Napster must have been truly repellent in earlier versions of the screenplay.

    The bloke who set up Facebook makes Warhol look like a fully-rounded character. Again I’m amazed his lawyers didn’t complain over the portrayal of him as a morally blank dickhead with no idea what empathy might mean.

  115. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 3:56 PM

    I did watch it and my reaction pretty much mirrored yours: I kept thinking ‘Merciful God…what are these repellent creatures?’ The only character who was marginally sympatico was Eduardo, mainly because he got fucked over by so many people who were even less likable than him. What a fucking crew.

    Poor America, where people like this and the Winklevi are looked up to–I wouldn’t feed them to Pongo.

    • January 19, 2011 7:37 PM

      Sociopathy as a strategy (or tool kit) for success is most definitely “in”

  116. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 4:12 PM

    Fuck my old boots…I just had a look at that Alison Flood article. So…Grauniad employee has baby…wow…just, y’know…wow. How did she do that?

    Judging by the number of drooling articles the Guardian publishes about Apple, I’m guessing Steve Jobs had something to do with it. That’s what happens when you keep your iPod in your twat…miracles.

  117. January 19, 2011 6:29 PM

    hic you can find the drawings on TET 6.O chez Steven’s endless thread.

  118. January 19, 2011 7:36 PM

    Anyone looking for the EDWARD TAYLOR’S DECENCY MEMORIAL GALLERY on TET should click no further than this link:

    http://staugustine2.wordpress.com/2010/04/23/the-endless-thread-6-0/#comment-3360

  119. January 19, 2011 9:26 PM

    Want to feel 1,000 years old…?

    http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-12209143

    • mishari permalink*
      January 19, 2011 10:36 PM

      It’s déjà vu all over again…

  120. Reine permalink
    January 19, 2011 10:57 PM

    Vaguely in the context of the thread topic, I am crestfallen to have missed Mary Portas: Secret Shopper, a new series of which started tonight. I was home by nine for a change but clean forgot about it. She’s quite the ballbreaker, though gone off balls herself.

  121. Reine permalink
    January 19, 2011 11:16 PM

    Four more Ministers have tendered their resignations here in the past hour or two. The country is in meltdown. I may offer my services as interim Minister for Foreign Affairs and go on some fact finding missions before every last penny of George’s money runs out. Anyone need rashers, tea bags, Tayto, TK red lemonade..?

  122. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 11:21 PM

    Will you get me some tweed pyjamas?

  123. Reine permalink
    January 19, 2011 11:22 PM

    I’ll weave them myself.

  124. mishari permalink*
    January 19, 2011 11:46 PM

    Fair play t’ya…not too rough a weave, mind. I don’t want to chafe my delicate bits.

    • Reine permalink
      January 20, 2011 12:01 AM

      Don’t worry, I will be putting in a silk lining for them to nestle in. Better get the loom in from the shed … ‘night.

  125. Reine permalink
    January 20, 2011 12:20 AM

    Poem at bedtime

    “Westron wynde when wyll thow blow
    The smalle rayne downe can rayne–
    Cryst if my love were in my armys
    and I yn my bed agayne!”

    anonymous

  126. mishari permalink*
    January 20, 2011 12:30 AM

    I’ve always loved that poem.

Comments are closed.