Nick's Blog
The Sound of Blogging
25/6/2007 @ 18:59
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I just got back from Austria yesterday. Now I know when I go on holiday, I usually ask you lot not to burgle my house but I didn't this time. My thinking was, if I ask you not to burgle my house, then that sends out the message that I won't be at home for a period of time. I'm not saying any of you would burgle me, but you might be in a public place and say something like "hey, Nick and Wifey are away for a week" and it might get overheard by a burglar. You can't be too careful these days.
I'm not going to bore you with details of picturesque mountain villages, lederhosen, strudel, Mozart and the f***ing Sound of Music, instead I'm going to pay tribute to an Austrian television show called "Live Panorama".
It's a great concept for morning television: It's CCTV footage of the Austrian countryside for 2 hours every morning. They spend a couple of minutes showing you one part of the country and a caption underneath tells you what the weather's going to be like, gives you a tourist information phone number and if you're lucky, the camera will pan from left to right...or vice versa so you can play a game of "guess the camera pan direction". There's no commentary, just an endless selection of instrumental Austrian folk music.
The whole show is strangely hypnotic, in part because the Austrian countryside is so picturesque and the music gets a bit catchy after a while. Also, no matter what part of the country they show, there's no one there. It's like the opening scenes of the Charlton Heston movie "The Omega Man" only with no litter in the streets. You'd think that at 8:30 in the morning, SOMEONE would walk past the camera.
I wish a show like that could exist in Britain, but I can guess what would happen...people would seek out the cameras and moon at the audience, or pull faces or go "f***" because that's so funny and original. I would love to have nice live camera feeds of lovely British landscapes on Channel 4 in the mornings but instead we get a posey Welshman who thinks he's funny accompannied by a drunk bimbo struggling to make sense of what he's just said.
On one day of watching "Live Panorama" whilst getting dressed, I noticed a spider had woven a web across the lens and on another camera, there was a moth taking up most of the screen. Not ideal viewing for Arachnophobics or Entomorphobics. I was reminded of a Simpsons episode where the newsreader Kent Brockman mistakes a close up image of an ant for a new type of alien invader.
"This newsreader for one pledges his allegiance to our new ant overlords." Hail Ants!
Beast of Blogmin
13/6/2007 @ 18:12
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I read this story today:
http://uk.news.yahoo.com/pressass/20070613/ten-extremists-threaten-celebrity-chefs-5a7c575.html
The Cornish National Liberation Army have been issuing threats to Jamie Oliver and Rick Stein "them furreign Englishmen", for...gasp...being English, operating restaurants and pushing house prices up.
When reading about the CNLA, I can't help but think of the Tooting Popular Front. It's that level of threat seriousness to me....mind you, I'll begin to worry when they accidentally stumble apon a Scorpion tank and steal it to launch a coup d'etat during the Summer recess of Parliament.
However digging into the background of An Gof, the name of the "Cornish Terror Movement" (sorry, still struggling to keep a straight face when those three words are put together), has revealed plans to drive out English tourists by putting cut glass in the beaches where people go to sunbathe and placing bombs under the sand as well.
This smacks of a group who soooooooo want to be the IRA. They even have a political wing who moan that they're not really behind actual violent acts and that Special Branch have been making up false terrorist accusations in order to crush An Gof. Sorry, Special Branch are doing this? It's not like they have anything better to do...
"Hey Bill, the Home Office want to know how we're getting along with tracking down that Islamic terror cell in Manchester?"
"I gave up, so much work to do on that one, I can't be bothered with the paperwork. Besides, those guys are too tough."
"How about that rogue IRA cell that still operates?"
"Nah, still too difficult. Can't we find some smaller, easy to control and demonise terror group? They don't even have to be a terror group per se...just a...bother group."
"I think I have just the thing....An Gof. We'll wipe out Cornish Liberation by putting it on the map. Now all we need is a high profile target."
"Oh no, we don't want to kill a celebrity!"
"Well, if we choose someone who's well known, but who gets on everyone's tits, then it's a win-win situation."
"And WHO will be this celebrity?"
Bubble Blog
11/6/2007 @ 14:57
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Well, the bathroom is finally finished and my 3 weeks of captivity and house arrest has come to an end. I won't bore you with the details about grouting, re-routing plumbing and electricity and what not but just limit myself to talking about one improvement: The jaccuzzi.
Ever since Wifey thrust bathroom catalogues under my nose and held my head tight so I'd look at them, we thought long and hard about what kind of bath we wanted. Looking in the Homebase catalogue, we saw that for a few shekels more we could have our bath upgraded from a "sit in, get wet" model to "whirlpool jaccuzzi option". We were sold and got ourselves a jaccuzzi.
The problem is that everyone who knows us now knows we have a jaccuzzi and wants to use it. Wifey is already planning a party where guests take a number and wait in turn to use it and I'm taking advance bookings. The postman now calls three times a day....and he doesn't even have any mail for us. The gas and electicity men keep taking readings but I can tell their recording devices aren't switched on. "Oh, whilst I'm here Mr. Hughes" they say "could I use your loo?" And I know that it's not irritable bowel syndrome that keeps them up there that long...and those tell tale soap marks around the rim of the bath gives away what's really going on.
Small children have now started kicking footballs over our fence and calling around saying "can we have our ball back Mister...oh, and can we have a go in the jaccuzzi Mister?" The plumbers who have installed it keep coming back to "check that everything's running OK". There's even a rumour going around that Tony Blair's goodwill tour of the world encompassing South Africa, Nigeria, China, United States, Hendon, The Netherlands, Russia....is just an excuse to come and visit me and use my jaccuzzi. "Alas, Downing Street is small and quite old and it's out of the question to have such things in one's bathroom" went the official letter I received last week.
It's no joke that getting a hot tub boosts your social life....and I learn about this AFTER I get married.
This is Spinal Blog
05/6/2007 @ 15:49
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My time under house arrest is coming to and end...yes, only one more day of bathroom renovating to go...the last bit of plumbing or furniture or whatever it is Wifey's decided to order has just arrived and so I will be free to roam the streets once more. I will once again be able to step out into the daylight and feel the warmth of the sun on my face, once more fit to enter the world of Man.
...Only I've put my back out a bit. Yesterday was very painful with a touch of nausea to go with it. Today, I'm a bit better but my back is hurting and I'm walking around like Windsor Davies in "It Ain't Half Hot Mum" as I try to find an erect pose that doesn't hurt like hell. Gawd, I can hear your purile minds going "hoo hoo, he said 'erect'" from where I'm sitting. Stop it you lot.
Now Wifey, bless 'er, thinks I'm somehow related to Charles Atlas and Captain Scarlet because the notion of me suffering a relatively minor, but still painful, complaint is alien to her. Men under 40 simply don't suffer pain unless a limb has been blown off or crushed in a bizarre accident. I'm walking around the house like a cheap 1950's sci-fi robot (but without the death ray eyes), every second sound coming from my mouth is an "aaargh", "ngh" or "ugh..no..aaahhh...no, that doesn't feel good" and yet there are chores to be done...I'm informed. No theraputic baths filled with Radox for me, no back massages and no "oh you poor thing, why don't you lie down and I'll bring you some hot chocolate". Nope, git yer shovel an' start diggin'...them rose bushes yer planted last week don't water themselves, d'yer hear?
So Gort and his watering can of doom has to water the garden for the next hour and a half. 90 minutes of Robotic walking whilst groaning whale song later, and Wifey very kindly and lovingly says "I'm so proud of you for working through your back pain". Nope, no problem at all, all in a day's work for a man who doesn't want to be seen as a pathetic wimp by his wife.
"Well, my work is done here..." I say "time to lie down on the couch and watch Gladiator on the telly".
"Oh no" says Wifey "...I couldn't bear to watch that again! Nope, you'll have to watch something else!"
Now, I ask you...would a nurse in a traction ward regulate your TV watching based purely on their tastes? Women just don't get that guys work on a carrot rather than stick approach. We like little treats just like dogs get when they perform a simple act or trick. I fight the pain barrier to water the garden...I get my choice of telly. Simple, right? Right? RIGHT?
