Nick's Blog
Yule Blog
27/12/2006 @ 14:59
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I so wanted to tell you an amazing anecdote today....but I can't.
At breakfast, Wifey told me that a certain friend of ours worked as curator of a _______ ______ exhibit at the ________ & ______ Museum, but that wasn't her choice. She doesn't particularly like the works of _______ ______, but took the job on because the other choice was being the curator of an exhibit of ___ ____. I know, I wish I could tell you what that last bit of information is, because it is truly astounding that one of the major museums of the world has a collection of such material but as Wifey pointed out it's not common knowledge and the museum, and our friend who also has to remain nameless, really, really wouldn't like that information available to the general public. Anyway, our conversation went thus:
WIFEY: "She was offered either the _______ ______ collection"
ME: "Ugh, that's a bit soppy"
WIFEY: "...or their collection of ___ ____"
ME: (I push my breakfast plate away from me in disgust) "You're kidding!"
WIFEY: "I'm not, they have the largest collection of ___ ____ in the world"
ME: "Why? Why would they have THAT? And what is ___ ____ anyway? Something to get ____ in the mood?"
WIFEY: "Apparently it's a collection of pictures of women ______ ___ with ____."
ME: "Do you want to finish my breakfast? Somehow I can't eat another thing"
Anyway, the conversation drifts onto a meet up with some friends, who work in the ______ _____ sector, and AGAIN, I can't tell you any of this because of confidentiality agreements. Wifey tells me a gross out story, again quite brilliant to use in an anecdote, that involved a man gouging out his ____ with a _____.
I've been sworn to secrecy and I can't tell a soul! It's eating up inside me, knowing that there's ___ ____ in the world, or what people with ______ ________ will do to themselves. Nggghhhh! Must resist...urge...to blab!
Leffe Blog
21/12/2006 @ 14:27
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I've accidentally become King of the Belgians.
This week I joined an online game called Virtual World http://virtualgov.proboards61.com/index.cgi , where each player controls a country and for my sins, I chose Belgium. So King Nicolas I is now in control of the Belgians, and I had a nice time telling Wifey that she was now Queen Laure and that our name was going to be changed to Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.
In the game, you have to negotiate trade deals, equip armies, establish embassies and put your country on the map. Within 2 days, I'd pulled out of the single currency and reverted to the Belgian Franc, bought 4 F-22 Raptors for my air force and embarked on a goodwill tour of the world with state visits to the United States, Cuba and Germany. I've just signed a deal to equip the Congalese army with rifles and machineguns and arranged for Hoegaarden breweries to be built in the US and Cuba.
I've also had to bone up on the history, customs and politics of Belgium as well. For example, I am never to be referred to as the King of Belgium...I am King of the Belgians because of a clause in their constitution that states that I swear my oath of allgeiance to the people and not the state. We also have a GDP of 361 billion dollars...which is nice and the nation is divided into two cultural regions: Fleming and Walloon and 7 administrative districts. Pretty impressive knowledge considering I've never been there. It's like being back in Geography class.
However, I really did miss a trick. I chose Belgium when the Vatican City was available. Sure, I wouldn't have had much of an army, or territory, or been able to conduct many trade treaties, participate in the UN or sort out domestic problems but I'd have been THE FREAKIN' POPE! The Pope carries a certain cache and would bypass a lot of the problems your run of the mill countries have: "Listen, China...you can go on an on about the decadent West but do you know something...I'M THE FREAKIN' POPE and at the click of my fingers, I get every Catholic in the world to do my bidding...so remember that next time you want to stomp on a bunch of student protesters".
I wouldn't even have to participate in the game that much...just make an announcement every so often "OK punks, you keep your noses clean and behave yourselves 'cos the Pope says so...capice? Now, who wants a blessing?"
Sure, I could get involved in a bit of art theft, money laundering and mafia conspiracies, but hey...you're the Pope! You rule, baby! However, I'm the King of the Belgians, even if they are just cyber-Belgians.
Blog Brush
18/12/2006 @ 11:44
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Up in the skies is rain cloud control centre. They wait, they watch my house to see if I'm going to step outside. They hold off on the rain, holding off, holding off; I leave my house and when I get about 100 yards away, too far to turn back to get a brolly without costing too much time...Cloud Control Central activates the "piss down" button.
People who should be neutered or at least given a forehead flick #38: A woman in the Post Office today who wouldn't believe she was in Hendon. She had an A-Z open at the shop counter, with a shop assistant and a customer trying to convince her she was, in fact, in Hendon. Now I've heard of being in denial; it's part of the grieving process, but being in Hendon denial is a first.
"What area is this?" she said
"This is Hendon, madam" said the guy behind the counter.
"Yes, but what part?"
"What part of Hendon?"
"No, what part of London is this?"
"Hendon, madam"
"Yes...but what PART?"
"You mean what street?"
"No...I mean, is Hendon sometimes referred to as something else?" (at this point, my mind reaches for alternative names for Hendon; Habitation Zone 15? Edge of the Universe? ProleDome?)
"No, this is Hendon...Hendon Central" says the shop assistant. In the end Hendon is...well....Hendon really.
"Hurrumph" and she looks down in the A-Z again. She's muttering something about a Christopher Street.
"Aha, we have Brent Cross shopping centre here! Where is that?" She says (as you can see, I've stopped concentrating as to where I am in the Post Office queue and am now staring in disbelief at this woman)
"Brent Cross? It's just over there, behind those houses, madam" says the shop assistant pointing in the said direction.
"No, where is it on the map?"
"The map? It's right there, next to where it says 'Hendon Central'" (oooh, nice sideways snipe there from the assistant)
"That doesn't look right...I didn't come from that direction" she says. Her Hendon Denial is now acute. "Are you sure we're this close to Brent Cross?"
"It's a couple of hundred yards over there, within 5 minutes walking distance"
She harumphs again, sticks her head back in the A-Z and starts muttering to herself. Now the combined local knowledge of the Post Office staff plus a few customers, some of whom have probably lived here so long, they remember King George V visiting Hendon in 1927 cannot convince her she's where she is; she's not in Hendon, Brent Cross isn't that close, these are not the droids she is looking for. I shall draft a paper for the Royal Society on this new condition of "Hendon Denial".
Blog at Ten
14/12/2006 @ 17:01
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How lazy the news is.
Now I don't want to make light of the terrible murders in Suffolk, but the reporting of it once again illustrates how dumb the news can be. They've dubbed the killer "The Ripper" even though he strangles the victims and doesn't cut them up at all. You can see the editors going "yeah, but the public won't go for 'The Asphyxiator' or 'The Choker'...Ripper has a classic, timeless appeal for your serial killer"
This is the same logic used whenever the suffix "gate" is used in connection with some scandal: Dianagate, Squidgygate, and the ever melifluous Iran-Contragate. It's just like Watergate but not, and it's the hallmark of lazy journalism everywhere.
Other stupid bits of journalese: "The incident occurred at 1 AM in the morning"...as opposed to 1 AM in the afternoon then.
"An ambulance rushed the victim to hospital"...instead of taking the slow, scenic route.
"He was subjected to a frenzied knife attack"...all knife attacks are 'frenzied' in journalese; because the public will think it was a languid knife attack if you don't make the frenzied point.
...and don't get me started on pun headlines!
Writer's Blog
12/12/2006 @ 12:00
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I had an interesting time on the weekend: I met up with some old university colleagues. We all used to work at the campus radio station (UKC Radio, 301 meters in the Medium Wave, 999 kilohertz....am) and back then we were a bunch of 18-20 year olds who thought they knew everything, wanted to be stars and had access to £20,000 worth of broadcasting equipment. Oh yes, and we had no listeners as well but that wasn't important.
Mike, our host, produced something that interested everyone especially me...it was a series of drawings that I had done of all the people at the radio station from when I first started there in 1987 to when I graduated in 1991. I used to produce a cartoon strip of the station called "Dumbsbury" and I must have drawn about 300 stories. Most of those exist in drawers and files around my house somewhere (except for one which I believe resides with the Viking FM DJ Ian Skye...well at least one of us has had a broadcasting career) but the big wall pictures that I drew went missing and were rescued by Mike a few years ago when he last visited the campus. I must say he's done a fantastic job preserving them and he's now my new best friend for doing so.
He and his wife Sharon have also introduced me to the concept of The Shame Drawer. This is something all married couples have...apparently. It's where all the towels stolen from hotels, cutlery from restaurants, a stray spliff and married couple "naughties" are kept. Of course, Wifey and I don't have a Shame Drawer but we were wondering if we DID have one, what would you, our Rhubba faithful, keep in it? Send in your thoughts and experiences here....
Blog Jammin'
06/12/2006 @ 13:57
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I have a confession to make. For years I've tried to keep my real identity a secret, but now that I have a burgeoning book deal, I have to come clean to you, Rhubba.
You may know me as Nick; witty raconteur, regular guy. But for 25 years I also travelled the world going by the nickname of AAA, the video game ace. Ever since I discovered "Space Invaders" and "Asteroids" as a wee 10 year old, I knew I had a gift for video games. I could master them all; Donkey Kong, Frogger, Pac Man (both Mr and Ms), Centipede, Galaxian, you name it, I would get the highest score and leave my codename...AAA. I travelled the world, often clearing the whole screen of your best efforts...AAA had to reign supreme. Atari and Activision hired me full time to go around the world pushing their games to the limit. Roger Daltrey may have been the pinball wizard but AAA was the video jockey supreme! I had the world at my feet, but the inevitable slide happened. I became addicted to Haliborange, and like the burned out gunfighter, every young video ace had to beat my scores. Some of them would call themselves AAA, but foolishly I never copyrighted my name...every punk out there with a pound coin could call themselves AAA. I'm not bitter these days and if a young wannabe gamer wants to emulate me, then I'm happy to bask in the joy of their achievements. One day, I the true AAA, will return, maybe to dominate the dance simulators! AAA lives!
Atomic Blog
04/12/2006 @ 17:59
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Radiation, radiation, radiation. All I hear about these days is radiation. I turn on the TV, there's radiation on the news, I open a newspaper, all the stories are on radiation. I stand in a queue at a bank and two old ladies are talking about radiation.
"Ooooh, I hear there's going to be a downpour of radiation later; and I put a full load of washing out on the line"
"I know, I knoooooowwwww. My daughter Elsie's got radiation at the moment...it's causing all kind of problems for her feet.
Now on X-Factor, contestants are judged on talent, looks and radioactivity. Soap operas are working in radiation themed sub-plots. I hear there's going to be a radiation spill in the Rover's Return in "Coronation Street".
I hear kids in toy shops going "Mummy, Mummy, I wanna be radioactive for Christmas! All the other kids at school are!" And those poor parents are going to give in, aren't they?
I'm sick of radiation! So sick of it my hair's falling out and my gums are bleeding!
