Aching Brain

I really hope this is a spoof as it makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork.

Popularity: 93% [?]

Adverts that shout work. I like them. “Bang and the dirt is gone.” They weren’t lying and if I hadn’t been so entertained by the shouty antics of Barry Scott I wouldn’t have bought what can only be described as the most potent chemical concoction available to buy (legally) in a supermarket.

My latest favourite is Tyrannosaurus Alan. I don’t know why I am so enamoured by a fuzzy felt dinosaur and shouty volcano. I once had a conversation with a marketing type who had to find out why Volvic was continuously outperformed by Evian sales-wise. I didn’t know the answer then, but told him that it was because Volvic sounded like part of the female anatomy and everyone knows that Vittel is better than both of them. I think however he must have found the solution; everyone loves the wacky dinosaur and his volcanic buddy. Today’s Metro even featured a three (half-)page long advert featuring the aforementioned characters in cartoon strip style (and revealed Mr Volcano’s first name √¢‚Ǩ‚Äú George!), I just can’t wait to find out what happens next.

Does it really work though? As much as I am entertained by Mr (George) Volcano’s peculiar pronunciation of water I won’t start buying Volvic until they decide to do a ‘free’ (¬£2.99 for P&P of course) Tyrannosaurus Alan toy. Now, there’s a thought!

Popularity: 94% [?]

From the little booklet in the box:

Off road riding extracts a severe toll on footwear. On and off the pedals thousands of times, lots of walking, days of 150 degree heat rotting the shoes in your trunk all means these shoes will eventually wear out. When the rubber is worn smooth off the bottoms and your riding buddies locate you by following the flapping noise of your torn uppers, BUY NEW SHOES. Don’t return them to your dealer with your altar boy face on and mmble, “Uh, I only used them once and look what happened. Gimme new for nuthin.” (sic)

Of course, if we screwed up and forgot to send you (sic) your particular pair through our patented top secret bulletproofing process and they come apart for no good reason, give us a call at the number listed below and we will see what we can do to remedy the problem or come up with another bit of creative customer relations to keep you happy. Just give us a call.

I appear to have just bought a pair of shoes from a company that not only regards its customers as a bunch of scroungers but also feels the need to press this point home in a rather patronising manner.

It’s a shame - they are rather nice shoes.

Popularity: 94% [?]

It’s hard to believe just how difficult a Nintendo Wii is to acquire. I made a vague stab on release day, trawling the electronics drags on Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street. Everywhere I was greeted with smirks, and laughter accompanied by pointing and other gesticulation. The guy I spoke to in Virgin Megastore looked like he was going to hit me.

So I thought I’d leave it for a bit until the demand died down. It’s just a new games console whose sales are feeding of the intense hype surrounding it. It will sort itself out after a month or so.

On Saturday while ktm was queueing in Argos for a replacement bathroom light (it’s a rented property - what, you want us to go to Habitat?), I nipped out to see if, on the off chance, there was any Wii in Woolworths.

No

I was told, but I could order one. How long?

3-5 days, if they are in stock

said the pimply faced youth. Wicked, I think. So I queued to be greeted by the very same PFY at the counter.

Ah, you want a Wii. I’ll just pull it up on the computer. Oh, they are out of stock. My gosh! You can’t even order them!.

My gosh indeed.

So to WHSmiths. Nope. To Dixons. Nope. Return to Argos. Nope. Having picked up the better half, we headed back to Dixons in search of a FM radio aerial and I took the opportunity to quiz a member of staff on their availability. Nope. I thought I might as well go for it and ask if I could order or join some sort of waiting list. She laughed.

We got a couple in last week, but we are still filling our pre-orders.

!

From November

!!

There are Wii available, however. Game’s online store occasionally has stock. However they are opportunist bastards and only sell the console in a bundle with four non-discounted games. Then again I did really want one and the games it comes with are rather good. I took one for the team.

Having come into possession of possibly the most elusive bit of gaming kit currently on the market (save a copy of Duke Nukem Forever) I thought it would be an easy ride from here on in.

The thing is, I haven’t told ktm that there’s a Wii arriving at some point in the near future*. Consequently, I need to be able to placate her when it arrives. This may be possible via a game or two of Wii tennis. For this, as any 12 year old will be able to tell you, I need two controllers, or Wiimotes to use the approved lingo, and the console only comes with one. I stepped out of my Wii owning friend’s trendy Farringdon design studio at lunch time to attempt to locate a second of these fabled devices.

Dixons. Nope. WHSmiths. Nope. Hmm, not so good. Having exhausted the local possibilities, I resolved to head to Oxford Street after work. Virgin Megastore. Nope. Dixons. Nope. Game. Nope. HMV. Nope.

Against my better judgement, I tried some of the little nameless electronics stores at the bottom of Tottenham Court Road who take no greater pleasure than in ripping off gadget crazed geeks with their inter-shop price fixing database. No Wiimotes there either.

?!?@?!?!?@?!

Urgh, this was becoming a little silly.

Since every major store and most minor ones have come up empty, I was forced to try the black market. Computer Exchange.

Yes, we have one Wiimote in stock, but it’s ¬£35

the little goth pixie behind the counter tells me.

??!?!?!??!!@@@@?!?@1/

I looked at her incredulously, trying to come with some counter argument about how dare they have the nerve to sell me a second hand controller at above RRP. She stared blankly back at me. I opened my mouth. She put her hand on her hip and tilted her head slightly, as if she was about to begin lecturing me on market forces dictating the price of goods in a free market. ktm’s disapproving look as I open the box from Parcel Farce loomed out of my imagination. All right, I’ll have it, I grumble. When I protest sarcastically at the lack of box, the happy capitalist goth chirpily informs me that there’s a one year guarantee. Hooray. I grab the bag and walk out.

I can’t help but feel ever so slightly taken advantage of.

* = It’s just possible that I may have blown my cover

Popularity: 97% [?]

Yes, the rumours are true. After years of experimental transport schemes involving the drilling of tunnels and buses with unstable middles, not to mention their occasionally explosive rear ends, the Mayor of London in his infinite wisdom has decided that the tram, beloved of Dr Zhivago-era Moscow and Judy Garland’s St Louis, is the way forward for transport. Better still, it will link those of us marooned on rock unsuitable for tunnelling, with our friends and jobs op’North and their fancy underground system.

After a lot of whispers and countless rumours it appears that the proposed Cross River Tram has finally gone to, wait for it, consultation. This means that they will probably push some bits of paper around for a long time and then might finish it by the time I’m forty and living in the sticks somewhere. As part of the consultation they want the local opinions of local people to add to their paper pile.

It is thoroughly important that you exercise your democratic right to inform our elected mayor of your opinions. Get your consultation document here. It won’t even cost you the price of a stamp to get your opinions on the route and the termini heard.

I am however rather miffed that some locals have already hijacked this scheme and decided it’s an entirely stupid plan because apparently artists’ studios, churches and businesses might have to be bulldozed to make way for a tram depot, which, after looking at their map, the businesses in question seem to be Trinketz, Ash’s Meat Centre, I think a car wash place, and that unsightly factory with the yellowed and broken windows you see as you come into Peckham Rye station from London Bridge. It is, according to these locals, an “area with potential for redevelopment.” They have already had their petitions out, you may have seen one floating around your nearest twee shop recently. This attitude says to me that a better, sustainable, and environmentally sound transport system for the area would be entirely pointless if they couldn’t buy unique prints entitled “Pain” and “Freedom” to put on the mantelpiece of their Bellenden boudoir.

I have a feeling that they may have missed the point. The tramline will bring better access to jobs in central London for many people. It will provide redevelopment in their “area with potential for redevelopment” and jobs on the trams and at the terminus and depot for local people. It would involve new building, and I suspect a more light and open feel to the area around Peckham Rye station. Not to mention the fact that it will hugely help the redevelopment of the bit of Peckham that no one likes to think about, which includes everywhere North of Peckham High Street as well as the Aylesbury and Heygate estates, by providing them with a fast and much needed link to Peckham town centre, and to Waterloo and beyond, and thus jobs. At then end of the day people living there have far more need for a better transport system.

I might sound like I’ve swallowed a bit of Ken’s propaganda on this, but having seen the change that the tram brought to Croydon (okay, I still wouldn’t like to spend too much time there, but the place has smartened up a lot since the tram was opened) I am convinced that the benefits far outweigh the problems of having a depot in Peckham.

I’ve said my thing, whichever way you lean on this, and whether you think I’m talking rubbish or not, please examine the consultation document and make those opinions heard to ensure that the area continues to thrive in the future.

Popularity: 95% [?]

This just dropped into my inbox:

Hi,

VjAGRA_zd_$1,78
CjALiS_lx_$3,00
LEVjTRA_fz_$3,33

www [dot] removed [dot] info

——–

tiny growl is permitted.

Tiny growl indeed. Fuckers.

Popularity: 95% [?]

Nike 10K

Aggregate kilometre times (”splits” to those in the know):

2K: 00:10:10
4K: 00:21:06
6K: 00:33:44
8K: 00:47:39
10K: 01:00:34

Position

Team (South): 7836
Race: 15776

Average times

North: 56:26
South: 56:09

Ouch. Might have to do some training next year…

Popularity: 31% [?]

Why did no-one tell me that cycling through the city on a single speed mountain bike with bouncy forks was so enjoyable? I was having a great time on the way home yesterday trying to see how high I could jump off speed bumps. Not the flat topped square ones that let emergency vehicles past but the old skool sleeping policemen types which are nicely rounded.

What fun. Mad steez, gnarl shred, etc.

Popularity: 25% [?]

Mouse is in the house,
Crooked of tail and ugly.
Please get stuck on glue.

Popularity: 29% [?]

In the dark lanes under the Vauxhall train bridge I know that a Royal Mail van is coming because I take pains to look behind me when I cycle. I think that the driver has seen me, but he probably doesn’t care.

When lazy I can feel my saddle a little too well over the speed bumps.

Once I have picked a line, a pedestrian will probably enter it without a second look. If I focus on them, I feel the urge to hit them.

I have several friends who have worked out how to break bones.

I have to ride 10 miles to work on just a coffee because I’m too lazy to get up with enough time for breakfast.

I would rather drivers ride.

The next skid mark to appear on the road could be me.

Switching to auto pilot in the saddle is when accidents happen. Every action occurring around you must be observed.

I will sweat for a bit at my desk after the ride in. It’s a horrible feeling.

I can’t get the tube home with a broken bike. Although if I can persuade the driver and eBay a kidney I may be able to take a taxi.

I know that once I reach a certain speed the lights will change.

Riding is winter is good because there are fewer fair weather cyclists around.

The worst part of riding in the wet is getting caught half way to work and realising that you don’t have a spare pair of trousers.

The effort involved in attempting to maintain a clean chain and gears in the city is disproportionate to the benefits gained.

If I’m relaxed while cycling I’m not commuting.

Some days my body finds the ride hard, but I can’t use that as an excuse for being late for work.

I know that to ride faster I need better luck with the lights and fewer Bromptons getting in the way. I have no particular wish to ride further.

I’m alive when I ride, but I’ll be dead quite quickly when hit by a white Ford Transit or Mumsy and Tarquin in their ludicrously oversized Chelsea taxi.

I know peace of mind when I’ve shouted at a few pedestrians and given a few cabbies the finger.

I hope I’ll still be alive in six months time.

With apologies to Howies and Adrian Gunn.

Popularity: 23% [?]

‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello what have we ‘ere… My afternoon began with a buzz on my buzzer.

“Police,” said the crackly voice.

“Police?!” I replied in my best pubescent boy voice.

“Yes, police,” the voice retorted.

Regaining my composure, “Sure, yes, I’ll just come down.”

Turns our that the next door basement flat has had the door kicked in, and stuff taken. The classic quick smash and grab crack addict method burglary. Apologies, reader, but my views on crack addicts are slightly unsympathetic, following our burglary a couple of years ago and six months of window/door-smashing hell in New Cross. I’m sure with support, love, and rehabilitation they would all be fine upstanding citizens.

Anyway back to the story. The copper wanted to know if I saw anything, heard the alarm going off etc. I explained that I’d just been in the shower and hadn’t heard anything.

In my attempts to replicate Jimmy Stewart as sick bed PI in Rear Window, I tried to remember what I’d seen out of the window while boiling an egg this morning, while reading my book, while on the phone to work. I couldn’t recall anything strange, and then suddenly realised that I thought I had heard an alarm.

I have become totally de-sensitised to sirens, alarms etc. Not a day goes by without a continually siren-punctuated soundscape and at least one car/house alarm going off in the vicinity. If this had happened where I grew up, I would have been twitching at the net curtains all day. Needless to say I feel awful. I had probably subconsciously ignored this warning sign and allowed this crime to happen.

New resolution - pay more attention.

Popularity: 29% [?]

Further to Alex’s Tesco Metro queuing drama last week, I had an interesting experience in Primark, while paying for some very lovely (and extremely cheap) stripy jumpers.

Now as much as I love the Primark, I do have one rule: never buy the underwear. It is badly constructed and just looks cheap. If you are going to spend a lot of money on clothing you should spend it on good underwear. I am no fashion expert but I do believe (and think that many ladies will agree) that it is the structuring underneath, which will make or break a good outfit.

So there I was paying for my jumpers. To my left was a young looking girl in some very dubious looking pleather and lace ensemble, to my right was a thirty-something in twinset and pearls. On my left, a basket full of underwear sets, at least eight or so. On my right, one item - a yellow and purple, ribbon-fastening basque. On my left, pays with a ¬£50 note and almost drops it down her sizable cleavage, giggles, bats eyelids, and says in Eastern European accent, “Vil I get change from zat sir?” On my right, a look of indignation and says in the queen’s very own English, “But I am sure it said ¬£4 on the rail, I don’t understand how it can cost ¬£8 here,” huffs and puffs a little.

This entertained me greatly, and as I left the store I thought to myself, “Only in Peckham.”

On a totally separate note, I’ve just seen the new Cillit Bang advert on TV and it’s about 50 times more shouty than the last one - hilarious.

Popularity: 29% [?]

Standing in the queue at Tesco Metro. I’m next. One cashier serving.

Her (brandishing small ciabatta in plastic bag):

Do you mind if I go in front of you, it’s only 20p

Me (looks at salad, bottle of water and piece of fruit in basket):

I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t exactly have a lot of stuff either

Well, if you are really in that much of a hurry, knock yourself out

Her (gestures vaguely away from the shop):

I am actually, I have to get back.*

Me (supressing rage):

Perhaps you should have left earlier
If you wanted to go in front of me, you should have got here earlier
If you can’t get the job done in the time permitted, ask for help
We all have places to get back to, or do you think people wake up in the morning and think “Today I’m going to spend some quality time queuing in Tescos”
…

* = said in a really patronising “oh, you know how it is” kind of way.

Popularity: 24% [?]

510102A - FT BSC COMPUTER SCIENCE

FIRST CLASS HONOURS

22137232
22141885
22142077
22160400
22167371
22167420

_________________________________________________

SECOND CLASS HONOURS (UPPER DIVISION)

22119794
22126030
…

That’s me, fourth from the top.

Popularity: 21% [?]

Cans of compressed air are surprisingly helpful in getting at those difficult to reach balls of dust behind radiators.

Just thought I’d share that with you.

Popularity: 20% [?]

<a href=”http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/get_involved/4466770.stm”>http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/get_involved/4466770.stm</a>

Is anyone else mildly perturbed by this?

I have a mental image of gangs of kids running around with identical Wayne Roooooooney masks on, menacing old ladies and stealing hubcaps.

Then again, it might be quite fun to cycle to work with one on. And perhaps menace rollerbladers.

Popularity: 23% [?]

Groovy stuff. I got me a photo page. Check out my snaps of Ireland and Spain. More coming soon.

Popularity: 26% [?]

Alex’s corollary: If you ask two questions in an email, only one will be answered.

Popularity: 19% [?]

More old news, but just what you need to distract you from data mining revision:

The Eternity puzzle.

Boxing day will never be the same again…

Popularity: 20% [?]

I hate exams.

You are sitting at a desk staring at a question on a paper that is broken in to sub questions, one worth disproportionately more than the others. You recognise it as one you didn’t drop a mark on in your coursework submission. You have worked through a couple of pages worth of calculations to find that the answer you have arrived at is wrong. You’ve approached the question from the right direction, and all of your working is there, you’ve just made a tiny error somewhere that’s thrown the whole thing out of balance.

You don’t have time to re-write the question, and even if you did, you can’t see where you’ve gone wrong.

What do you do?

Popularity: 22% [?]