The World's first Computer Bug

It's 7.30pm Christmas Eve 1969. Somewhere in the bowels of IBMs Thomas J Watson Research Centre, the office party is drawing to a close.

Software boffin, Milt Goldberg is locking up his office before heading home for the holiday, not to return until the new year.
Unfortunately, the mix of cheap red wine, Christmas cake and general 'joi-de-vie' that afternoon has precipitated Milt's fatal and world-changing coding error.

Crawling out from The shadows of Milt's System/360 Model 25, appears the creature that will over the decades ahead become a legend as it spreads and multiplies. With no one around to prevent its infestation the creature sets off on its software odyssey to take over the world.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the first : Computer Bug.

(I think his name is Edgar)


The ubiquitous 'Computer Bug' - 'Where did it come from?, When was it born?' etc.
A Late 1960's IBM research lab seemed like a nice idea as IBM are so iconic in early computing. Then I needed a situation or sequence of events that could allow for the 'birth/escape' of the little menace.
The office Christmas party with a few drinks, followed by a week's holiday when the bug could make good its escape fitted the bill, and the idea was up and running.

'Taking out' Christmas

Christmas is getting the better of me. I've tried to keep it under control but it's fighting back. I'm considering firing a tranquilizer gun into its neck.

There seems to be no escape. Christmas is the 'Terminator' of festive holiday breaks. No matter how you run, fight back or hide, the unstoppable red eyed, cheery, tacky, ho-ho'ing clunks up on you with its rigor-mortice grin

Christmas is a tough SOB. It takes no prisoners. Maybe if I sneak up on it unawares when it's having an afternoon nap and then smash a heavy table lamp or similar over its head?
A heavy ashtray perhaps or a compilation volume of Cliff Richard's Christmas Special? Or an electric iron?

Oh the irony.

'Name that item'

Great new quiz show kids!
Create a new word/name to describe the following challenges:

1. Dubbya Challenge. Something you might find in George W's briefcase.

2. Pussy Challenge. Something the cat has left on your mat this morning (Eurgh)

3. Last piece Challenge. The bit left over after assembling flat pack furniture.

4. Hybrid Theory Challenge. The result of unnatural coupling between two household items. (the sort of thing you see all the time in those Innovations catalogues actually)

5. Obsolete but not forgotten Challenge. Such as he steering wheel of an Edsel. (google it)

6. Condiment Challenge. Ketchup that doesn't pour

7. Jordan Challenge. Two blimps (or similar swollen things that travel in pairs)

8. Stonehenge Challenge. A brick that doesn't work

9. Carl Andre Challenge. lots of bricks no longer used as bricks

10.Brick Challenge. Something/anything you would like to throw at George W.


Yeah!
And so once again the world comes full circle.

Open the Pod Bay doors please HAL......

Alternative responses for Stanley and Arthur's cheery silicon anti-hero:

DAVE: Open the Pod Bay doors please HAL...

HAL: I'm sorry - do we know each other?

DAVE: Open the Pod Bay doors please HAL...

HAL: Do you have any ID?

DAVE: Open the Pod Bay doors please HAL...

HAL: I'm watching cash in the attic - be there in 20.

DAVE: Open the Pod Bay doors please HAL!!

HAL: And just what time do you call this young man?

DAVE: Open the Pod Bay doors please HAL...

HAL: Oh hi!

DAVE: Open the Pod Bay doors please HAL...

HAL: (muffled whispers) Shit, he's back...what?... no, I dunno. Well just flush it then.


Any other suggestions?

Assisting Amy Lee of Evanesence

I overheard Charlie Fox and ted Badger having this conversation. I think it says much about their maturity and level of 'swiftian' wit.

Ted Badger says: Am giving some serious volume to the new Evanescence cd

Charlie Fox says: Any good?

Ted Badger says: I bought it on the strength of the single which is 'kin ace. First found rest of album too same-y. But have grown to love it now. You'll love the pic of Amy Lee inside the booklet

Ted Badger says: will scan in amy for you (I say)

Charlie Fox says: Please do...

Ted Badger says: brace yourself - email incoming

Charlie Fox says: Crikey Ted.. she looks distinctly mischevious doesn't she? Do you think she is saying, "Go on, you know you want to?"

Ted Badger says: I bet she's a handful... or two

Charlie Fox says: I would mind her handling us two...

Ted Badger says: In case they'd shifted out-a whack during her performance you mean?

Charlie Fox says: Precisely - do you think Fox and Badger could get a job doing that for her, ie: Scott Gorham's roadie who used to pull his hair out of the strings during Thin Lizzy concerts?

Ted Badger says: So basically we'd be.... Boob wranglers? Sound good to me :))) LOL

Charlie Fox says: Snigger!

Ted Badger says: I can't breath - laughing too much

Charlie Fox says: You've started me off you SOB

Charlie Fox says: Amy Lee's boob wranglers. Fuckk me that IS a job

Ted Badger says: Imagine telling people that in the pub. the place would go silent in awe. We'd be heroes to teenage boys around the world

Charlie Fox says: Or telling your grandson as he sits gazing at you by a roaring fire..."i remember once at hammy odeon when amy's left one started showing it's lovely pale face, I had to run on from stage left, put down my bottle of Magners...

Ted Badger says: But grandfather... wouldn't your hand be slightly chilled from the bottle of mangers?

Charlie Fox says: All the better for 'enhancing' her performance. And for giving you somewhere to hang your towel

Ted Badger says: I think that conversation will have to go on the blog.

Illustration competition

For anybody who saw the little 'Bug' illustration I was working on last month, here he is in all his glory in the final competition entry. By the way, his name is Edgar! (thanks Blue).

http://forum.3dworldmag.com/viewtopic.php?t=9016

NanowrimoAllDone

Yeah! Just for anyone I haven't already showed off to - I finished Nanowrimo (50,000 words) with days to spare. Nearly killed me but it's done. The book isn't finished, so as soon as my 'impact-injured' index fingers have recovered I'll be back on the case!

If you're interested go to nanowrimo.org and look for Nik Chinook.
But then again, why bother.

My NaNoRiMo novel

I'm at 10,500 words
Clawing my way forward, metaphor by bleeding metaphor. I got a lot done during the week then ironically the weekend was poor.
The not uncommon scenario (judging by the forums) of significant others saying they don't want to interrupt you followed by 48 hours of shops, DIY, long walks, important little jobs ("It'll only take 5 mins - yeah right) and unexpected arrival of son from UNI for the weekend.
Bless.

That said, I did actually get quite a lot done, especially on saturday. I'm finding it soooo much of a help to have worked out the plot/outline in advance. the last time I did NaNo it was all on a wing and a prayer and I paid the price.

I had my son doing some first read throughs of the story so far, so that was useful - he laughed at the right bits.
One particular scene of a corporate powerpoint presentation is my fav.
The misery of death by powerpoint. - I'm still scarred by the experience

20k I pray next monday.

nanowrimo.org

PS Devon V.sunny. F.cold

Yoda - a life

Not many people know that, before achieving fame as Yoda in the Star Wars movies, Mervyn Wang achieved minor celebrity status as a key figure in the London 'New Romantic' scene of the 1980s.

Complete with hair gel and huge blouson shirt 'Yoda' cut a dashing figure on the dance floor and in numerous fashion spreads for The Face magazine.

He made a tv pilot of a proposed talk show called 'Talking with Guests on TV I am' but it didn't get picked up by the majors. A series of failed projects followed, leading to the inevitable drugs bust and time in rehab.

Gay Flies

I recently tried to 'take out' (as Henry Hill might say) a rather large and irritating Bluebottle/Fly with what I though was 'Fly Spray' but actually, I realised later, was Air Freshener. A rather lovely Lilly and fruits flavour actually.

I couldn't help but wonder what 'looks' the fly (Neville as I like to think of him) had received from its compadres for the rest of the week as they huddled about various cow pats, dog turds and rotting road kill.


"Oooo Neville - you smell simply divine. My - where did you get that fragrance, it's to die for, darling.
All the flies giggle.
Nevile puts up with it for a while then, a broken fly, he departs.

He spends the rest of his short life in and out of therapy before 'getting the op' and becoming a faux butterfly.

Make orgasms mainstream

The moment of orgasm is a wonderful thing.
But we feel that the tacky down-market and frankly 'sordid' marketing profile it receives does the entire subject a disservice.
At Poor Attitude we ( I don't know why I'm using the royal 'we' - there's only me here!) would like to suggest the following periodicals and products:

"Oh I say!" magazine

"County Climax" (for lady's what come)

"YeeHa! - The best orgasm album in the world EVER! (vol2)" CD

OOO-R radio station (24 hour brodcasting to help you break a sweat)

"Now that's what I call 'coming' " CD

"Multiple Orgasm!" Christmas box set.

And for the nostalgia market: "Classic emission" Old, crackly and in black and white.

NanoWrimo

Well that's it - I've registered with Nannowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) and am now looking forward to November being dominated by my nose being thrust to the literary grindstone. It nearly killed me last time - so why am I doing it again? Well, as I said on a previous post, I've had this lightweight, comedy novel floating around in my head and I think Nano' will give me a good kick start on it (or kill it off completely). What I need to do before Nov is to put some serious thought to outlining the structure. Last time it was all done on the fly rather and left me often not having a clue what I was writing towards! Eeek.
I will be getting stuck into 'copywrite', my software of choice. In fact, no more procrastination - let's go there now!

Boyhood Part1.

Boyhood.
In the army 'Basic Training' is the official nomaclature for that ball-breaking, spirit-crushing, bone-shattering, personality-erasing, psychological abyss of approx 6 weeks into which new recruits are cast down from the airy mountaintop of their hereto normal civilian existence.
If you accept that a grown man is basically a warrior maneuvering through an essentially unfriendly, nay hostile world, then boyhood is Basic Training.
Once you get that - then everything else makes sense.
The military process is a 'wake-up' call wherein the bright, shiny, freshly scrubbed recruits, hope in their hearts, and eyes brimming with visions of hollywood-style military heroics, are taken (not always metaphorically) by the scruff of the neck and are forced headfirst into the bloody sewage strewn evil of warfare while being buttfucked repeatedly by sadomasochistic Sargeant-Major called McKwolski and then having to shout 'Sir-Yes Sir!' when asked if they are a worthless piece of excreta not fit to wear the (rather shabby and dated) uniform.
Think of that image.... hold it there in your mind.
Now transfer it to that tiny, bright, shiny, freshly scrubbed sweet baby boy. He is warm, content, fussed over, loved, cosseted, bathed in fragrant waters, wrapped in warm blankets, allowed to sleep away his days and is fed on demand by two plump boobs each one bigger than his whole head. To quote legendary gangster Henry Hill "These were the good times".
Nature, mother nature, evolution or (if your that way inclined) God, looks at this helpless pink soft blob of a child and, when patience runs out he rubs his hands together in glee says, 'party's over little chap - time to toughen up'.
Yes indeed - boyhood is the wake-up call, and quite rightly too. Life, even with all its myriad pleasures, is a sharp, hard pointy thing that cuts, bumps and scratches. The small fluffy pink newt that is the baby boy is not going to survive the world in that state unless stored in a plastic bubble or he happens across a willing carer who is happy to still be changing his diapers when he's in middle age. (That almost never happens)
In contemporary western society life may often be a sharp cutting thing, but it is as nothing, and I mean NOTHING, in comparison to what every little boys' million antecedent fathers have had to face.
When, aeons ago, the earth cooled, the first representative of humankind dragged itself from the primeval slime and, dusting off the debris from its emaciated form, looked nervously about at the lush new world and contemplated "I wonder if it's safe?"
A second later, as the thought still hung in the air, a rock hit humankind in the side of the head, then a snake bit into its leg, then two bears, a sabre-tooth tiger and a pack of very hungry hyenas piled in to finish off the job. When they were all done, some manky vultures cleaned the bones and then ants did a final polish before carrying them down to the primeval swamp and chucking them back with a contempteous snort of 'You'll have to do better than that.'
The gauntlet had been thrown down. Nature took another look at its creation and thought, 'well its good - but it needs to a fucking sight tougher if it's going to survive'.
This was basically a case of going back to the design studio and having to have a bit of a head to head with the prima-donnas there who believed in style over all other considerations.

Now (if you're still interested or even awake) look at the post called "the Creation of Man: Nature's Design Studio".

BBC Breakfast vs GMTV

It's 7.35 am (approx - ie within an hour or so) I'm forcing down my marmite and peanut butter toast with a gargantuan sized mug of finest assam.
BBC Breakfast show (sadly sans Sophie) (but thankfully featuring Kate) blabs away about a new Basra located carnage. Repoters 'on the scene' frown into my eyes before diplomats and middle east experts expound learned analysis of the 'spiralling' situation. Politicians and spokespersons assail my senses.
I can take no more. In quiet desperation I switch the tv over to GMTV.

Suddenly I am assaulted by a positively 'day-glo' studio set where someone called Jade, two footballers I've never heard of and a fat family with crying baby on a sofa are bleating on about a 'reality' tv show I never WANT to hear of, let alone watch.

"Now the news" they announce.

"Posh and Beck's wowed the crowds last night at...blah blah blah"
Then "the nation holds its breath for tonight's episode of Coronation St".
Then "RnB superstar R Kelly visits the UK tomorrow - he's joining us on the sofa at GMTV" etc.
Blah blah Blah, Oh yeah - something about 'Iraq' they briefly mention.

Then "Sports news"
Apparently I'm the only person in the UK not anxiously awaiting the 'Euro/winners/premier/semi/tiebreak/cup-winners/re-match/final/league/climax between 'Sporting Athletico Cantata AC Madromo' and Millwall. (live on ITV for 16 hours this evening)

My ears are beginning to bleed and something unpleasant is happening to my few remaining brain cells.
I switch back over to BBC.

More carnage - fear - starvation and endless refugees.

I swallow my last piece of (now cold) marmite toast.
Ahhhh - that's better.

Quack me

A friend sent me this, which she found on the net. Don't have any reference for its creator though.

“I have this problem that no-one takes seriously. I can't help it, it started when I was a kid. But I like going to parks and touching the ducks.

But in November a park keeper caught me fiddling with one, and called the police. I had to lie and say I was rescuing it from drowning. They didn't believe me, I could tell, but they couldn't arrest me because it wasn't a crime. Anyway, some bastard told the local press, and I was in the paper. There was no picture but my name was in the same sentence as 'duck molesting.'

I'm so embarrassed, I'm going to lose my job because I'm a vet. Once, someone bought a duck in that had been attacked by a dog. I asked everyone to leave the room so as not to shock it. Really I just wanted to touch it. It died not long after.

Anyway, I saw a shrink and told him but he laughed. He asked me why ducks? I said because they had chubby cheeks and looked cute. Also they are slippery when wet. I like that. I like squirrels too, but I've never tried to fiddle with one. I might soon if I don't get help.”

Lionel 28, Nottingham

The Creation of Man - Nature's Design Studio

When, aeons ago, the earth cooled, the first representative of humankind dragged itself from the primeval slime and, dusting off the debris from its emaciated form, looked nervously about at the lush new world and contemplated "I wonder if it's safe?"
A second later, as the thought still hung in the air, a rock hit humankind in the side of the head, then a snake bit into its leg, then two bears, a sabre-tooth tiger and a pack of very hungry hyenas piled in to finish off the job. When they were all done, some manky vultures cleaned the bones and then ants did a final polish before carrying them down to the primeval swamp and chucking them back with a contempteous snort of 'You'll have to do better than that.'
The gauntlet had been thrown down. Nature took another look at its creation and thought, 'well its good - but it needs to a fucking sight tougher if it's going to survive'.
This was basically a case of 'Nature' going back to the design studio and having to have a bit of a head to head with the prima-donnas at the 'Pixel face' there who believed in style over all other considerations.



The Scene: Metaphysical dream-like environment wherein sits the rather improbable fixtures and fittings of a design studio. There are assorted desks, workstations, flip charts, brightly coloured marker pens and a cluster of stylish apple Macs of various ages including a 'classic' that has been converted into a fish tank.

The walls are decorated with large CGI posters of: 1. a mountain, 2. a giant redwood, 3. a blue whale, 4. a hedgehog. The Hedgehog poster has yellow post it notes stuck on it with office 'in-joke' comments on them such as 'Do you feel like a prick?' and 'Kev's new girlfriend!'.

There are four designers (of indeterminate shape/form/origin and will be known as W,X,Y and Z) working quietly at their screens. One, that appears to be designing a haddock, is nodding rhythmically to the 'tzz tzz tzz' sound eminating from its little white headphones.

The (metaphysical) door opens and Nature enters, clutching a battered roll of papers and some polaroids.
Nature looks rather grim.
The designers exchange glances.

N: Okay everyone - gather round - we've got a problem with Humankind.

One of the designers in particular (we'll call x) looks despairingly down. The others look slightly relieved. They all gather round a big table where Nature has spread out the polaroids.

X looks at the images. "Oh shit!"

W: Fuck

Y: Hmm

Z: Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Nature: Yes - not pretty is it?

X: When did this happen?

Nature: Just this morning

X: Shit.

W: What did it?

Nature: Just about everything.

Y: what like?

Nature: Birds, tigers, dogs, snakes, some rocks..

x: Shit

Nature: Even the ants had a go.

X: You're kidding

Nature: I'm not.

X glances suspiciously at Y.

Y: Hey don't blame me - I made 'em tiny. Just eat leaves and stuff.

Z: What a mess, what a mess, what a mess.

W: what's all that stuff poured out on the...

Nature: Its insides I think.

X: Shit

They are all quite for a moment in contemplation then Z (who seems like the most senior) looks at X and says

Z: So what have you got to say X?

X metaphorically scratches its chin and thinks quietly for a good half a minute.

X: I think you might have used it out of context

Nature(outraged): I bloody well did not I..

X: It answered the brief perfec..

Nature: Its supposed to be able to survi..

X: Did you skimp on materials..

Nature is affronted and gasps

Y: There's bugger all camoflage...

They all dive in with comments and opinions and there is general disarray for a while. Finally Z calms them all and smoothing out the blueprints on the table begins to examine the designs point by point.

Z: Okay Nature, where do you think we need some improvem.. (he stops himself with a glance in Xs general direction) ..some amendments to the current model.

X has arms crossed and a sulky look.

Nature: Well look at its hips?

X: What about them?

Nature: They're too wide - it can't run fast enough.

X: They've got to be that wide.

Nature sacastically: And why have they (making imaginary speech marks in the air) "Got to" be that wide?

X: (with sneering smugness) Because it need to be able to(speech marks in return) " carry its babies " without "shattering its pelvis"

X crossing arms again and looks smug.

Nature: Oh (disappointed).

Z: Well what about giving it a real killer instinct, some aggression?

Nature (hopefull): Yes, yes - how about 'maxing-out' its blood lust?

X: Do you really think a pathological killer with an anger management problem will make for an ideal parent. Do you want the propagation of the species resting in the hands of a blood crazed looney? As a professional designer I would have to advise you to take a look at the case of the Male Lion experiment a few months ago!

W looks suddenly sheepish and walks back off to his workstation muttering.

Nature: Hmm yes.

Z: That was a disaster. It actually ate them - eurghhh. Who saw that coming?

Y: Right - I was nearly sick

X: right.

Nature: Hmmm.

Nature and Z stare at the blueprints some more.

Nature points at some detail...

Nature: What about those?(waving his finger at the drawings) Does it need those things bouncing around getting in the way?

X and Z both shake their heads in a little exsaspperation

X: YES IT BLOODY WELL DOES!

Z leans across to Nature and whispers into its ear.

Nature (after a moments embarassment): Oh I see, quite, quite. Hmmm.

They all stand in silent contemplation again.

Nature: Well could we give it really strong arms and fists that could really swing a sledgehammer or axe?

X: You're missing the point. This has been designed for delicacy and control, long term planning, compassion and nurturing spirit. If you start trying to hybridize it, it'll just end up doing nothing very well.

Z: You see Nature, it's always possible to combine, say... a coffee machine with, say.... a bicycle. But what do you end up with?

Y: Expresso Esspresso? (sniggering)

W (shouts from his desk): a very quick Latte?

Z: Shut it you two. No, you just end up with too many compromises.

X: The whole original concept just gets fucked.

Nature: Elegantly put X.

X: Yeah well...

Nature: So what are you suggesting?

Z: I think we'd do better adding a partner model to the range.

Nature: (warming to the idea) A pair? - I see.

X: It's worked before.

Nature: Right (beginning to enthuse)

Z: Those little creatures Y designed last year were useless until we got them paired. What were they called?

X: Can't remember.

Y: Lemmings

Nature: So we could have like a 'B'-spec' model to go alongside this one?

Z: That's right.

Nature: Just strip out all the higher motives and drives?

X: easily done

Z: And then plug in..

Nature: Aggression

X: Ambition

Z: sneakyness

Nature: Physical Strength!

X: Craft and building skills!

Z: Bravery to the point of...

Nature: Over confidence

Z: Gross stupidity I was going to say.

Y: But why?

Z: Have you seen some of the creatures and obstacles it's going to have to confront just to survive?

Y: Good point

Nature: Limited needs is going to be important..

Z: Yeah - just food and warmth

Nature: Yes - stick to just those, we don't want to confuse it with too many drives.

X: Sounds great - can't wait to get started.

Nature: What we going to call it?

Z: What's the 'A-Spec' model called?

X: I called it 'Woman'

Nature: Hmmm - okay. Lets call this version just, er... 'Wo'?

X: Or just 'Man'

Z: Brilliant!

X: I like it.

They all look pleased with themselves.

Nature: I need it asap.

X (all chirpy now): Will do Boss.

Z(thoughtfully): Just one point though - could be a problem.

Nature: What's that?

Z: What's to stop 'Man' just marching off into the wilds just looking after itself and not sticking around looking after...'woman'?

X: Shit, yeah.

Nature: Bugger.

They all look depressed again. There is much head scratching.

Nature: What we need is a good reason why Man would want to stay close to Woman.

Z: Apart from to eat her of course

Nature: Exactly.

Z: Hmm.

Nature: Hmmm

Z: Hmmmmmm.

Nature: Something that Woman has got...?

Z: That Man wants?

X: Something that ONLY Woman has got.

Nature: That Man wants enough to stay around for the long term.

Z: And won't eat her

X: or the kids

Z: Right.

Nature: That she's happy to supply.

X: Within reason

Nature: right.

Z: But no matter how much he gets..

X: He'll always be hoping for more...

Nature: Hmmmmm. What could it be?

There is much head scratching and furrowed brows.

X: Hmmmmmmm

Z: Hmmmmmmmmm

Nature:Hmmmmmmmmmmm.

They all stand deep in thought for what seems like an age.

X (brightly): Oooo I know!

END



And so the rough-hewn troglodyte that is Man stumbled, blinking into the world.

Radio One UK. A music-free area

Why is it that 'Music' radio plays less and less music these days? It seems that increasingly the DJs feel that the music I tuned in to listen to is an interruption to their show! Many channels seem prone to this problem but it is particularly irritating on channels who make a real feature of being 'all about the music'
In the UK, Radio One is a prime case in point. The BBC pumps out numerous talk based channels covering everything from the arts, news, specialists sport, local, regional issues,Ethnic groups, etc etc. When it comes to contemporary popular music however, there's only one national station: Radio One. You'd think therefore that they might focus on putting the bands and their music as the top priority. After all, being a non-commercial station they don't have to keep interrupting the music to have bloody irritating ads all the time - they actually have a big advantage over commercial radio which they could take capitalise on. But do they?
Oh no. They seem intent on making what should be (and calls itself) a music channel into a radio version of daytime TV - with a procession of vacuous 'presenters' who talk and talk and talk...and talk. They drip on about their night out, what they had to drink, their new car, old car, the 'match' on saturday, somebody they met at a club, what they did at school, what's on big brother, somebody else they met at a club, how much they drank, how funny they were with all their mates at the party on friday, the match this saturday, last weeks big brother, and on and on. They are actively encouraged in all this diatribe by the sychophants they gather about them in the studio. On and on this limp chatter continues, with all congratulating each other on the devastating wit and charm they display. And if they stop to take breath, it is only to go to the nightmare of...a 'Phone in'. Dear God - then we endure the deeply sad broadcast of even less charming people dripping on about THEIR night out, what they had to drink, their new car, old car, the 'match' on saturday, somebody they met at a club, what they did at school, what's on big brother, somebody else they met at a club, how much they drank, how funny they were with all their mates at the party on friday, the match this saturday, last weeks big brother, and on and on.
Arghhh. By this point I am screaming at the radio to play some BLOODY MUSIC! Often I have put the radio on at the start of a short car journey to have some music only to have reached the end of the trip with nothing but the presenters egocentric outpouring to cheer me on my way.
Don't get me wrong - I like talk radio sometimes (regular radio four listener) but I can tune in to it out of choice and it delivers what it says on the can. My gripe is when I want to also have the option of tuning into a pop music channel and I'm given talk, talk talk.
After the phone in, there suddenly seems a glimmer of hope as a band's name is mentioned but it turns out to be just a trailer for a studio interview with the presenter next week. (He is of course on first name terms).
There's then a little chat about another interview on last night's tv. Yawn.
Then suddenly...Hurrah! Some music is starting. I turn the radio up. It's not a band I like much but it's music at least - now I can enjoy the drive.
We're a minute into the track and the DJ decides to talk over it with a quip about somebody's hair who's just walked into the studio. Music back for 30 seconds until the guitar solo starts and then before I can quite believe it - the presenter cross fades it into the News bullitin.
Now I'm really going to lose it. 2 mins later.....The Weather Report. Still later.....Traffic news.
I'm screaming.
Then finally - back to the programme...but, no music. The DJ then engages in a stunningly cringe-making flirtation with the weather girl for minute after (licence payers) minute. Then all the 'crew' join in.
I'm beating my fist on the steering wheel by now.
I flick through other channels yet again to try and find some music. But as the talk channels are doing what they are supposed to do : broadcast talk/chat, they're no help. Sport channel - no good either. Commercial radio? try four channels and they're either phone-ins, interviews with local councilors or ten minutes of ads.
Back to radio One. - The flirtation is drawing to a close - Hurrah. Could this be it?
They play another trailer for next week's shows.
Maybe music now?
The presenter gather's himself - and I wait expectantly.
"And now, without any further ado...................
......... It's Competition Time! Hit those phones!"

I break down and cry.

Sub Plot

One of the many sub plots in this proposed novel involves a man with a prosthetic nob, who accidentaly loses it while on a visit to a novelty candle factory.
Classy eh?
You see I'm visualising the novel as being like a Tom Sharp book - only for the new generation, for 2006. So I think its farce and drug related sex violence in equal measure - Mmmm nice.

Novel idea

I've got this idea for a short novel that's been rollin' around in my head for a couple of years and I think it's getting to the time when I need to get going on it. And I'm thinking that it might be a good plan to take part in this year's NaNoWrirMo event to get me moving with a purpose.(if you don't know what NaNoWriMo is, it's National Novel Writing Month - take a look at the web site) And I am also considering using this blog to put the material 'out there' for feedback as I'm working on it. It's intimidating 'cause you don't have time to craft the work carefully and tweak/refine numerous revisions - you just have to write and move on asafp. So what I'll post here will be rough indeed!

Bugs me

This little creature is the star of a 3D GCI picture I'm working on for a competition. He needs a name. What could it be? Any ideas?

Chavs, and how to drive like a 8 year old special needs brat.

I see with interest and some sadness that one of the new generation of Top Gear presenters has nearly killed himself in jet powered car stunt. Being a bloke - I can't help but love the idea of fast cars, high octane excitement and V8 nirvana. It was obviously a risky thing to do but all power to him for having a go - it must have been awesome before it all went 'tits-up'.

I don't have any sympathy with the papers/media who are getting up themselves about tv entertainers/risk/money/danger etc. I can remember when I was a lad (and tv was still B&W) people like John Noakes on BBC childerens prog Blue Peter, doing all sorts of risky stuff. It's entertaining and informative and memorable. Just because he didn't actually 'fall off' Nelson's column - it doesn't mean that it wasn't risky.

However (you knew that was coming didn't you) - what really pisses me off is Jo public (and Joanna Public) on ordinary roads, at any time of day or night, feet away from families, kids, pedestrians generally, who have their foot welded to the floor the whole time they're driving and are completely pissed at anyone who is doing less than the statuatory 25mph OVER the legal speed limit!
And oh yeah - these 'brain-deads' have to be talking on their mobile. And they have to have bad skin, stink of McDonalds and are most often seen in Burberry baseball caps and 'tracky-bottoms'

I thought that I was just prejudiced - but then I started counting examples and it turned out to be worse than I thought.
There are a few odd exceptions to the type though.
Recently I was hurtling through the countryside on the way to work and I (dear reader) was doing 80mph, already some 10 miles per hour over the speed limit, when a little old lady who could hardly see over her steering wheel went past me like I was standing still!

Perhaps she had a Burberry blanket over her lap?

TOP PICKLE - a tv show with bite

Know those car shows? - those smart arses trying to make bent metal sound like art? Trying to inject earth shattering excitement into yet another variation of of a dull gas guzzling over priced hunk-a-metal that will be consigned to automotive history by next year?
Well, hearing their over-extended metaphors and overly whining admiration for all that crap - I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if the TV company decided to relocate the presenters to a product based show with less horsepower. So instead of the UKs premier car show "Top Gear", I give you: "Top Pickle"

Music sweeps in
fast MOR rock, Ideally old Top Gear Theme: Jessica by Alman brothers.

Then angled zoom clips of jars of pickles in different settings with the words
‘TOP PICKLE’ overlaid.

VO (Jeremy Clarkson) for it his he
Sit down, strap in and hold on! Welcome to this weeks festival of the hot stuff, the high octane and the 100 brake chilli power.
This is...Top pickle.

Music up and then eases back

In this week’s show we put some of the worlds lengendary pickles and condiments head to head on the ultimate road test.
CLOSE UP
can the blisteringly fast super pickle from marenello ( Sundried tomato Chutney) stand up to the legendary classic..
Arkwrights easy-spread sandwich pickle...

Quentin?(lagubrious as ever)
Tomato against gerkhin? (raise of cocky eyebrow) Lets do the numbers and find This is a small-cut pickle to be sure - but under the bonnet is a big prize. Those clever little chaps at Arkwrights know a thing or two about punch per pound and in this little package, have delivered....in style

Sure, with the sundried tomoto offering - chillis come as standard .... but don’t be fooled - from first taste to spicy flood of flavour in under 4 seconds makes this stylish little sandwich pickle..... like a Mike Tyson on a tub of steriods.
Jeremy?

Clarkeson
Well yes, that’s all very nice but do you - really - want to be seen on the high street with an Arkwrights ? Where’s the ‘wow’ factor?
Part of pickling history it may be but the marque is looking a little long in the tooth.
How can I put it?.....It might have been de-regiour for your dad but...

Quentin (condecendingly)
Ahhh shallow youth, Arkwrights is, despite its heritage, an agile little number with breathtaking action,spice, bite and, what’s more, it hits the mark for a snip under the marenello price tag.

Jeremy
Well there you have it - we may not agree on everything, but there’s one thing we do...



Quentin
When it comes to sheer brute force performance - both these crazy chutneys have to take a second place to Top Pickle’s ‘Condiment of the Year’ two years running..

Jeremy
the stunning...

Quentin
the sublime...

Clarkeson
the legendary...

Quentin
Sancho and Singh’s
‘Gurka Dip’.

Jeremy
Pure performance in jar. Makes Mexican relish look like your granny’s cucumber spread.
I love this pickle

Quentin
Strap in, sit back...
Both
Hold on...

Quentin(with knowing nod and raise of eyebrow)
..and wait for mr.plod.


Music swells

Clarkeson Voice over
Join us next weeks Top Pickle when we will be pitting Happy Shoppers family Burger relish against a sachet of Mustard from a Granada service station.
END

STORM CHASERS!

Presenter Voice over
Inspired by the thrilling exploits of ‘Indiana Jones-like’ meteorologists on America’s ‘hurricane alley’, the UK’s own amateur ‘Storm Chasers’ are every bit as enthusiastic in facing the might and drama of Britain’s weather in the raw.
In the heart of Devon I met up with Brian, or ‘Hurricane’ Edwards, as he is known by his rag-tag team of tornado amigos.

Exterior day, moor land. The disparate bunch of 5 losers in quasi-military/survival gear are stood around a crappy old Landrover which ifestooned with improvised meteorological equipment; wind socks, anometer made from cups and gaffer tape, aerials, ZX Spectrum and tourist maps etc. Brian at front in fatigues with belts of equipment all over. Cocky cowboy pose.

Presenter
So Brian...

All ( in over-excited jingoistic Marine kinda' way)
Wooo - yeah man - Hurricane! its Hurricane - Storm Chaser extraordinaire!

Presenter
Sorry...’Hurricane’. What is it that drives you all to be storm Chasers?

Brian (with OTT reverence and emotion)
It’s humbling man. Confronting mother nature’s power up close and personal. Like Nitchze said ‘ when you look into the storm - the storm looks into you’

Bubba (patting Brian meaningfully on the shoulder)
It changes you dude. I wasn’t the same person after my first level three shower.

Mary (clutching clipboard and ‘Girls Bumper book of the weather’)
It’s the scientific contribution that motivates me.

They all nod enthusiastically

Mary
With what we learn about these storms, we can increase warning times, we can save lives.

All (looking slightly more humble than Mother Teresa)
We just want to make difference

Film montage of a day with the team inc. driving around countryside, watching skies with binoculars, pouring over maps, scrambling, talking on mobiles and closely examining completely limp wind sock and taking notes.




Presenter Voice over:
During our day with Brian and his team I could not help but wonder how the mild, temperate ‘tornado-free’ climate in which they lived affected the likely hood of finding the violent nature they sought.

Presenter
Brian - sorry, ‘Hurricane’....I am in awe of your team’s enthusiasm, but I was wondering, considering we are in Devon, just what is the likelihood of you ever finding a real tornado?

Bubba (jumping in defensively and thrusting a blurred grey polaroid forward)
This was a level four light shower that we chased last bank holiday!

All
Chased for hours/amazin man/nearly to tavistock/we were there dude!/fantastic data/awesome!!

Bubba
I tell you...I’ve never been so scared!

Presenter
Er..yes, but surely....

Brian holds his hand up for silence and looks to the sky. they all look up eagerly and then to Brian in thrilled expectation. a beat

Brian
INCOMING!! LETS GO!!
They all scramble - jump into the Landrover and gun the engine

Title Card
2 hours later

View inside stationary, but noisy landrover containing entire team whopping and yelling as windscreen wipers beat noisily. Mary is crying with excitement!
All (high-fiving and punching the air)
This is it! / we got Debris! / Oh my God! / Jeez! / It’s a level FIVE!! Oh my God!!

Presenter
A group of brave individuals dedicated to the pursuit of the most violent phenomena that nature can throw at us. We can only marvel at the courage of Brian ‘Hurricane’ Edwards and his rag-tag team.
They are....Storm Chasers

Outside view of slightly rocking landrover (we can hear them whopping from inside). we pull back to reveal Landrover is in a muddy car park next to a play park.
In foreground a woman with dog/kids walks past barely concerned at the light shower.
Fade to black.