More kind words from America about my birthday party
Thanks to Jeremy for this lovely message about my 35th birthday party:

Only a brit would conjure up something this ridiculous. Not that England matters to the rest of the world anyway. Hope your party is a "gas"!!!!

Your good wishes are noted, Jeremy. But this Brit would like to point out that the party actually happened over two years ago. (2003 - the year mentioned on the home page of the site - is the one that comes after 2002, but before 2004.)


01.27.06 @ 11:38 AM PDT [link]

Supermarket Sweep
In the first of a regular series, I'm going to let you know about the contents of people's shopping baskets.

Bloke in front of me at Tesco today: one litre of milk, three bottles of McEwans Crown and an Evening Standard.

Now that is one hell of an evening in.
01.26.06 @ 03:35 PM PDT [link]

That whale news conference
One of the advantages of being self-employed is that I was able to stream the whale news conference live from the BBC website yesterday. One of the disadvantages is that I actually had to listen to the stuff that was being 'spouted' by the learned experts. Unbelievably, they were forced to dismiss conspiracy theories about the 'tactical naval sonar' interfering with the sea mammal's complex navigation system. It seems that some people are turning it into a kind of underwater Roswell Incident. There was all kinds of other weird stuff at the news conference too. Like the talk of the Professor who'd flown over from the Canaries and then apparently flown back with bits of blubber in his suitcase. It was truly beyond parody.

My friend Russ noted that the whale had died of dehydration and kidney failure and wondered whether it might have been taking E.

That is just plain ridiculous.

I mean, how many clubs would let a whale in for starters?

No jeans. No trainers. No dorsal fins.
01.26.06 @ 03:33 PM PDT [link]

Could I blag my way through a whale autopsy?
My old friend and former creative partner, Russ, has read my postings about the whale and he wonders whether I might, in fact, be able to conduct the post-mortem. Obviously I don't have the formal scientific background for the job and wouldn't be quite as professional as, say, Agent Scully on the X-Files, but I reckon I could look fairly plausible.

My first thought was a white coat, but there's a danger I might be mistaken for a fishmonger. As it's a surgical environment, it's probably more masks and green suits. But where do procedures like this actually take place? Obviously somewhere with a twenty-foot table and a step ladder, but I'd need a some more precise directions if I were going to muscle in.

"Yes, sir. Can I help you?"

"I've come for the post-mortem."

"And you are?

"Professor Woodford of the Moby Dick Institute of Maritime Pathology."

"Certainly, sir. The aircraft hangar is this way."

Of course, if it really is like the X-Files, I'll be rumbled by a Jeep-load of guards with M16s, who'd tell me that I'd entered a secure area and that they couldn't take responsibility for my safety if I stepped any further.

Sky tells us that the results will be known on Wednesday or Thursday this week, which must mean it's happening imminently. If I hear any more, I'll let you know.



01.24.06 @ 02:42 PM PDT [link]

Advice from cash machines
Have you noticed how the print-out on a cash machine is often called the 'advice' slip? Personally, I've always found the advice rather limited. But think of the potential.

The most obvious message would be: stop spending money you haven't got.

But it could go further and take on more of a fortune cookie flavour.

Dump him. He's not worth it.


01.24.06 @ 02:04 PM PDT [link]

1973 revisited...er...revisited
Yes, we've just enjoyed another episode of Life on Mars, the time-travelling comedy drama that doesn't quite know whether it's The Sweeney or Goodnight Sweetheart. There was definitely "trouble at mill" in a convoluted story involving a murder that wasn't a murder, in a factory that...er....wouldn't be a factory in the future, but would become the coma-stricken chronocop's upmarket flat. (Don't worry if you can't follow this. Even if you were watching, it was quite hard. I expect all will become clear when they show it on BBC World with subtitles for the US market.)

As usual, the best thing about the episode was the great period detail. The attention paid to things like food, drink, fags, phones and clothes make it all worthwhile.

The plot, on the other hand, is as barmy as anything ever conjured up for Casualty at Holby City. Our Inspector is still dreaming that the girl from the old BBC2 test card is in his grim 70s flat with him. Then he wakes up and finds that it was all a dream. She's in the telly and he's in a coma.

A caricatured barman banters with the cop in 70s-style Jamaican patois and seems to be taking on a role as some kind of guiding light or guardian angel. This idea appears strongly influenced by the Whoopi Goldberg role in Star Trek The Next Generation, where she plays an empath who has regular heart-to-hearts with that stargazing Shakespearian luvvie, Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

When it comes to the storyline, all I can say is: "Come back, Gary Sparrow. All is forgiven." But, yes, I'll be watching again next week.
01.23.06 @ 04:30 PM PDT [link]

The age-old dishwasher debate

Bish Bosch, it's dishwashed. But shouldn't you do a bit of washing up as well?

I'm always washing things up, even though we've got a dishwasher. I'm fed up finding that everything I need is in the machine. There's nothing worse than removing a knife that's been sitting in the dishwasher and washing it up because you're desperate.

Mrs W takes the view that the more I wash up, the longer it takes for the dishwasher to become fully loaded. And if the machine doesn't get turned on, there's nothing to eat off.

Like the dishwaster itself, this debate could run and run.
01.22.06 @ 01:41 PM PDT [link]

Estate agency blurb
Maybe it's just the advertising copywriter in me, but there's something about estate agents' particulars that makes me want to curl up in a ball and weep. In fact, the very word "particulars" makes me want to curl up in a ball and weep.

I was just looking through my local property rag, where garages go for quarter of a mill, and one particular agent was showing pictures of houses alongside captions that said things like "Popular Tree Lined Road" and "Sought After Popular Road".

Why can't they just tell us where it is?

"Excuse me. Can you tell me the way to Popular Tree Lined Road?"

"Sure. Just continue up here for 200 yards and take a left into Sought After Popular. It's down at the bottom. You'll recognise it with all the gardens being laid to lawn and conveniently located for the local amenities."
01.22.06 @ 01:11 PM PDT [link]

Whale update
According to Sky News, we can expect autopsy results by Wednesday or Thursday.
I've just received details of the expert who's flying in to conduct the post-mortem. Click here for more.

01.22.06 @ 12:29 PM PDT [link]

Life on Mars: latest update on BBC time travel drama
The programme isn't on until tomorrow. This blog entry is a temporal blip of some kind. I'll report when I resynchronise myself.

At least I'm not stuck in 1973 like the copper on the show. His coma-induced fantasy has put him in a rough-and-ready Manchester nick, where a punch to the kidneys is the preferred method of speeding up all investigations.

Looking forward to the next episode.
01.22.06 @ 07:59 AM PDT [link]

How I look with a bit more hair and a beard

Hair today, gone tomorrow. This passport snap was taken a couple of years back. I'm sure I've lost hair from both my chin and my head in the meantime.
01.22.06 @ 07:54 AM PDT [link]

A new word

A windmill with mice in? It's hardly surprising. But is this mouse truly autonomouse?

A typo suggested a new word to me: autonomouse. Definition: a rodent that was free to do what it wanted. Perhaps it would cook itself dinner?


01.22.06 @ 07:51 AM PDT [link]