Comments

Apologies to anyone other than James who actually reads comments. Because usually there aren’t any.

This isn’t, however, because there aren’t any being submitted. Many, many comments are submitted on this blog, usually with a subject such as “WxjofieSDJDIj30”. We don’t publish those. In fact, we usually forget to publish any of them, and sometimes we reply to ones that we can see any no one else can.

Sorry about that.

At some point I’ll get round to upgrading the creaking old platform this site runs on, and maybe we’ll get better comment moderation. Or just better comments. I’m fed up with reading about WxjofieSDJDIj30.

Seriously, free. All you need to do is take it off my hands.

The computer room in my secondary school had a witty poem on the wall which went:

I hate this damn computer
I wish that we could sell it
It won’t do what I want it to
Only what I tell it.

The joke (or possibly the lesson we were supposed to learn) was that computers would do exactly what you wanted them to do if only you had the appropriate knowledge to manipulate it to your advantage.

Times, I fear, have changed. Home computers are increasingly designed to be user-friendly, and telling them to do things has never been simpler. Unfortunalely, as technology grows capable of doing more and more complicated things, certain brands of computer have developed characteristic problems which can only be understood and resolved by somebody who will charge a lot of money for doing so. Thus, a more apposite poem for the 21st century:

I hate this damn computer
I’ll give it up for free
It won’t do what I tell it to
Because it’s a PC.

Why I can't watch historical dramas

Last night I settled down in front of Elizabeth and a fine time I had, mostly thanks to Geoffrey Rush, though anything with lots of beards, silly trousers and melodrama tends to keep me happy.

On the downside, it took me about twice as long as the film’s two hour running time to get through it. Why? Because I had to keep looking things up.

I’m pretty bad at watching films at the best of times, because I’m constantly leaping up to check IMDB to put a name to a familiar actor’s face. Films swarming with aging English thespians are the worst for this, which already accounts for a chunk of my research over Elizabeth.

But more significant than this was my increasingly obsessive need to verify the historical inaccuracy of the film. I don’t mean the large-scale historical inaccuracies – as my A-level history came flooding back to me I had no need of wikipedia to chuckle smugly over the liberties taken with historical fact, like the bonkers chronology, or Elizabeth’s completely fictional meeting with Queen Mary, or the bit where Prospero dispatches James Bond to kill Queen Elizabeth.

No, it was the tiny details that got to me, questions like: did Queen Mary have a personal dwarf? (“Dwarves were not uncommon in European courts of the period”, apparently.) Or was the Duc D’Anjou a cross-dresser? (Nope; his older brother, who also courted Elizabeth, was rumoured to be a bit girly, but only by his enemies, so whichever way you look at it Elizabeth is Protestant propaganda).

By the time the film ended I had read up on most of the Medici family, the minituae of 16th century European history at my fingertips for the first time in ten years. Yet one thing continues to elude me, the answer to the question: isn’t that organ sound in the coronation scene rather inauthentic?

My first response was one of musical scorn: yes! that organ sound is completely inauthentic, just what filmmakers think music sounded like in those days, for this choral music would never have been accompanied at all! Then a seed of doubt made me check that fact and I found that, possibly, even in Elizabethan times an organ might have accompanied music in a Cathedral. I still felt the organ sound was considerably larger than the chamber organ sound I would expect from that era – my understanding is that the English didn’t start to get full-on huge organs until after the reign of Cromwell (who had all the old ones destroyed). Yet large organs did begin to appear on the continent as early as the 13th century, so perhaps England did have some?

If any organists out there have the answer, I’d be most grateful.

Fortunately I do have enough musical knowledge to spot that the underscore near the end of the film of Elgar’s Nimrod souped up with a female soprano and unsubtlely segueing into Mozart’s requiem was wrong, wrong, wrong. And not just historically.

I'm obviously going to have to give up smoking women

Who was it that decided the best way to read a news headline was to emphasise the very last word in the sentence, regardless of its importance? Am I the only person who feels like I’m being treated in a patronising way by the newsreader? (You can’t understand this unless I make it really clear.)

Aside from being really annoying, it can actually change the implied meaning of the story. These examples from Sky News this morning:

“A woman infected by swine flu has died in Scotland” – delivered in such a way as to imply that the real tragedy here is that the poor woman couldn’t have been moved to a more civilised part of Britain before her death.

Better still:

“Researchers have found that men are much more likely to die of cancer than women” – what, really? Men are more likely to die of women? That is an alarming statistic indeed…

More than just a word against apathy

I have been urged by text and tweet and email to sign this petition “against racism and division”… and I can’t sign it.

I’m dead against racism and division. Indeed I would put both near the top of my list of least favourite things. But I can’t sign a petition to say that the BNP do not represent me in the European Parliament, because – horrifically – they do.

I’m not happy about it. I didn’t vote for them myself. But in a democratic election they were chosen to represent my country, which means that for all that they don’t represent my views, they represent a majority. And therefore me. That’s the way democracy works. If we took a “not in my name” attitude to all elected officials we hadn’t voted for, over half of the nation would be ignoring most of the government at any given time, which is division – and we’ve already established that’s a bad thing.

At the time of writing, the Hope Not Hate petition has 21,095 signatures: clearly a lot of people feel strongly about this. But not enough people felt strongly about it to get along to a polling booth on Thursday and do something about it – indeed, in my constituency alone 97,013 did feel strongly enough to vote for the BNP, and even that wasn’t enough for a majority in this area. Those people have got to live with the indignity of – horrors! – a Conservative majority and a near win for UKIP, but I don’t see any petitions against it on the internet.

Not only is the Hope Not Hate petition of bugger all use to anyone, it’s churlish. If people want to do something about the new and scary threat of fascists holding real power in our country it’s too late to do anything about the election we have just taken part in (or, in many shameful cases, haven’t just taken part in). They need to do something about the next election – find an alternative to support and promote, talk to people, blog, tweet, point out to every single person you know what an absolute dickhead Nick Griffin is (indeed, in a political world of grey areas that is one of the few things I believe I can say is absolutely factually undeniable).

Or, if all of that seems a bit too much work, get out of bed and vote next time

Pieces of advertising material that might annoy John Finnemore – part three of at least five hundred

‘Oh… look! Look honey! Those crisps, they’ve been on TV! That’s means they’re, like, famous! Let’s get some before they all go! I know we’re only here to buy petrol, but I’ve never seen petrol on TV. Except in that episode of Heartbeat. Shit, petrol’s famous as well – go get some more! I’ll just grab these crisps!

‘Or is it the maltesers…?

‘Hell, I’ve seen them on TV as well, I’m going to have the crisps and the maltesers!

‘Come to thing of it, I’ve seen everything in this shop on TV – you know, in those bits between the actual programmes! And we could like, buy them for ourselves! That’s nearly like having a bunch of celebrities in our house! Quick, grab a trolley!’

A word against apathy

General, my cynical view of government combined with laziness means that I am disgracefully disinterested in voting.

HOWEVER:

“The most recent and reliable polls consistently show that the BNP is very close to winning a number of seats in the European Parliament. Most polls show that BNP on 5-7% nationally which would give the BNP 3 seats and polls tend to underestimate BNP support.

The most recent You Gov poll on 1 June, the biggest so far of ,over 5,000 people, put the BNP on 7% of those certain to vote. On these figures the BNP could win a seat each in the North West, Yorkshire and the Humber and the West Midlands and East of England regions.”

Time to get out and cast your vote, folks.

(Am assuming this blog has a mainly anti-BNP readership.)

(If not I may have just scored a massive own goal.)

Pieces of advertising material that might annoy John Finnemore – part two of at least ninety

Let’s ignore the use of the apostrophe, for all that it is both incorrectly and inconsistently applied. After all, there is a slim possibility that “Party’s charity events” is intended as a single phrase, if a rather odd one.

Instead, let us examine the bold claim of this man (or woman) to be a “stormtrooper look alike”.

Are you a “look alike”, Sir (or Madam)? Or are you, as I suspect, simply wearing a costume?