http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/tv reviews and inspired musings with an occasional dip into the great aunt that is radioen-UKhttp://backend.userland.com/rss092http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/ce/5e88c40deb8ad1aac7a699384045ea_160x200.jpg <p>I wonder what might happen in that instance? Would crime go down as communities took it upon themselves to meet out their own punishment, or would a new wave of cooperation exist?</p> <p>Someone suggested recently that if we returned to friendly societies as opposed to the welfare state, there would be no abuse of the system. As every worker paid in a little every week to support themselves, or others, if they were unable to work, then abuse of the system was rare as one would be abusing ones neighbours and friends rather than a faceless government.</p> <p>Might the game of cops and robbers thus be avoided if restrictions were relaxed. </p> <p>Thought for the day from the Right Irreverant Katy Brown</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2009/07/10/a-world-without-police-6482404/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2009/07/10/a-world-without-police-6482404/Fri, 10 Jul 2009 06:19:01 +0200 <p>I don’t think I fully understood the term schadenfreude until last week. Granted we all have unattractive characteristics, but taking pleasure in the misery of others, now that’s a stinker. But the economy went pop and suddenly yummy mummies were cancelling appointments to have their highlights done and looked a little less secure in their Chelsea tractors. And I felt a wry smile. </p> <p>And I’m not the only one expressing feelings other than fear and panic. Reading and listening to various commentators there have been expressions of guilt for the style over substance decade: guilt for the greed, not simply of rampant consumerism, but as expressed by (anonymous) bankers and brokers that shock horror, they may have put their needs before those of the shareholders or companies. Come on, let’s face it, being a trader is surely the same as having a 4 year old in charge of a sweet shop: one should not necessarily expect to see a profit. </p> <p>But we all seem to have a rather short memories: there have been signs of pulling in the purse strings for some time now. Not simply for financial reasons, but also for ethical twinges and the post Christmas lunch feeling that we’d overindulged. (Repeat a hundred times: champagne should be a treat!). Bored of shopping and newness, we’d started knitting, growing our own veg, eating animals from head to toe, using hessian bags and shopping for ‘vintage’. </p> <p>We’d started resenting the inbuilt obsolescence that made it cheaper to buy a new dvd player than get the old one repaired and the pace of technology that has meant we’ve had to waste money and time on new products to enjoy the music and films we’d already bought; we were feeling guilty about clothes mountains, that Primark prices and our desire for novelty had created.</p> <p>So we were already exhausted from competitive purchasing. Let’s face it, these last few years has meant not only are we keeping up with the Digby-Joneses in terms of cars and making sure the front garden was ‘kept nice’, but we’d felt obliged to take exotic, long haul, frankly exhausting experiential holidays, install bespoke kitchens and extra bathrooms and endlessly decorate. By the time we had our stainless styled minimalism sorted, we had to rip it all out and stuff our houses with flock wallpaper, chandeliers and mooseheads.</p> <p>Maybe we can return to slightly cheaper pleasures: a walk in the park; a board game with friends; libraries and maybe the time to actually read the book. And an unfashionable kitchen can still provide us with a good stockpot.</p> <p>So let’s remember there was something in the air anyway, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just me that’s uttering a small sigh of relief that we can get off the gym membership treadmill and put away our status anxiety for a few years. I’m knackered: bring on the recession.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/29/time-to-put-your-feet-up-4947929/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/29/time-to-put-your-feet-up-4947929/Wed, 29 Oct 2008 00:09:15 +0100 <p>Ok ok, the world is awash with Bond. It's Craig Crazy out in media land. And no I'm not stiffling a yawn, though I'm sure Danny boy must be as he answers catalogues of inane questions. But I love reading his press, because he just sounds so normal. There's very little pr puff about DC or Yum Yum Let Me Lick You All Over, as he's come to be known in my house. </p> <p>I like him because circa Casino Royale, he admitted to chilling out playing video games and being a bit too tight to buy a house cos he thought prices were excessive (turns out he was right). </p> <p>He can obviously do proper PR when necessary as he did for the film, Flashbacks of a Fool where it clearly mattered that a small independent movie got all the attention it could, and also his mate was directing and he was a producer. However for Bond, I suppose YY could be reading out the ingredients of a pot noodle in an interview and we'd still go and see the film. </p> <p>And I like him this time as I can sort of see through it. I half smile as I watch that ridiculous Sony HD advert where increasingly extreme explosions fail to knock him off his perch. I just watch him react to the CGI and imagine the filming of the advert as he flung himself about in front of blue screen in response to being prodded by a long stick with a boxing glove on the end. </p> <p>But one of the things I like about YY most, is that he swears in a particularly British out with your mates for a beer, fashion. And that’s very endearing. And the antithesis of Bond. Because really, Bond's just not crap enough for me. I like real men who can laugh at themselves and YY seems more than capable of doing that. </p> <p>There's a great line in one of the best sitcoms ever, Paul Whitehouse's Happiness, where the disgruntled best mate goads his wife on hearing she's going to the Baftas that 'even if you met and slept with George Cloony, it wouldn't be like, y’know, sleeping with George Cloony!' and he made a very valid point. However I think if you slept with Daniel Craig, it would actually be better than sleeping with Daniel Craig, as it would be much more of a laugh.</p> <p>Anyway YY, in the name of research I'm prepared to give it a go. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/23/double-0-phwoar-4920547/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/23/double-0-phwoar-4920547/Thu, 23 Oct 2008 22:50:31 +0200 <p>Not being a mother, and to be honest a pretty rubbish godmother, my knowledge of changing nappies, disposable or otherwise is strictly limited. And of all the pros and cons of parenthood I’ve considered I’m sure no-one disagree surely this is one of the downsides.</p> <p>I vaguely remember my sister’s nappy being changed some time around the Queen’s silver jubilee (clearly it was changed more than once otherwise we’d have been in a social services situation) and this was still terrycloth time. Other than the requisite safety pins and nappy rash cream, it involved something, which even to me at the age of 7, seemed particularly ineffective, the nappy liner: an A5 sized sheet of sheer webbed material, presumably to either keep the terrycloth away from child’s rear, or prevent the worst of the expulsion seeping too far into the terrycloth, thus rendering it forever green. </p> <p>However recent wisdom has been that terry is best and disposable nappies are almost single-arsedly responsible for global warming. Filling up landfill with their filthy vile contents, the green mummy martyrs sneer smugly at their disposable counterparts while their unfortunate children chafe in their morally superior nappies. </p> <p>However, you might as well rescue your children from nappy rash as apparently disposable IS better for the environment. Yes, you heard it. All those years of expensive laundering services, or washing shitty nappies yourself, you were actually doing more harm than if you’d been using pampers-pull-me-up-little-miss-huggies. </p> <p>According to a £50k nappy research project by the DEFRA (Department of Environment Food and Rural Affairs) in order to make them worthwhile and deliver a smaller carbon footprint than the more convenient alternative, you’d have to dry them outdoors all year round, wash them at no hotter than 60 degrees (probably not the best if you’ve had a particularly nasty expulsion), use the same nappies on about 5 children and then probably use them as tea-towels afterwards.</p> <p>This is of course quite embarrassing for the Govt so it’s not exactly been publicising the findings. But mums, time to chuck out your pegs.</p> <p>However, as Tony once said, there is a third way. In the 1950s children were often out of nappies soon after learning to sit up. It’s become later and later as the decades have passed. </p> <p>If parents – let’s face it, usually mums – are able to pick up signals more effectively early on, known as mind-mindedness and critical for all parent child connections, then as Maggie Howells said in a Woman’s Hour feature last year, if you know what you’re looking for, it’s possible to have your child using the pot from the age of 5 days. That’s right: 5 daysQ It’s currently about 3 years in the UK – think how may nappies and shit in your fingernail moments that would save. </p> <p>Recognising those key times such as after nap, or noticing signals the child gives you in the same way you’d learn to recognise tiredness or hunger will enable you to put the child on the pot at the right time and this will then just be completely routine for the child if not completely possible at all times. </p> <p>Much earlier toilet training is just utterly normal in many African and Eastern cultures with children in China wearing pants with a split in them for easy access to the loo. So, it seems it’s just us filthy freaks in the West who allow our children to fester in their own faeces for years on end. </p> <p>So terry or disposable, if you can get the training out of the way incredibly early on, then you’ll have a tiny carbon footprint and presumably a few less shitty finger nail moments. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/19/nappydays-are-here-again-4897409/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/19/nappydays-are-here-again-4897409/Sun, 19 Oct 2008 23:46:20 +0200 <p>A little bit of false modesty from Mr Fry on this evening’s trip round North Carolina in his cab. On visiting a body farm, a grisly but fascinating research centre for studying human decomposition, he mused that he might consider leaving his body to such a place on the grounds that his body had done so very little worthwhile whilst alive, it might as well do some good when his spirit had flown. I think some might beg to differ and I suspect you know that, Stephen my sweet. But oh how you’re forgiven. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/19/fry-s-american-delight-4897037/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/19/fry-s-american-delight-4897037/Sun, 19 Oct 2008 21:44:09 +0200 <p>Looking to download 'the age of aquarius' which I believed to be from the Musical hair, I mistyped hiar which brought up a single song, Hiartabua, by the following mythical creature. This is Hansi Hinterseer, also known as Peter the Goat herd in his latter years. He's blond, he lives in a snowdome (check out his house below) and he yoddles. Could anything be lovelier other than finding a picture of Hansi in liederhosen? I live in hope and in the meantime when I'm feeling crunched by credit I will again mistype hair and give myself a little Hansi pick me up. I highly recommend the track, 'Wenn i won der Alm obageh' - it really shows off his yoddling tonsils to perfection. Who could be miserable when listening to this waistcoated Richard Clayderman bring joy to a million bavarians? Run little ones, gamble and frolic like lambs on a mountain top running through cool crystal clear streams with hearts and souls as light as air. Let Hansi take you by the hansi and lighten these dark days with some yoddling oompahpah.</p> <p><a href="http://uk.wrs.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTf2qRDvpIPnABr4NNBQx.;_ylu=X3oDMTBqdXJhdTI4BHBvcwMyOARzZWMDc3IEdnRpZAM-/SIG=1ji249f4b/EXP=1224433681/**http%3Aemuk.images.search.yahoo.com/images/view%3Fback=http%253A%252F%252Fuk.images.search.yahoo.com%252Fsearch%252Fimages%253F_adv_prop%253Dimage%2526va%253Dhansi%252Bhinterseer%2526fr%253Dcb-max%2526xargs%253D0%2526pstart%253D1%2526b%253D21%2526ni%253D20%26w=250%26h=250%26imgurl=www.mgtrading.nl%252Frepository%252FHANSI.jpg%26rurl=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.mgtrading.nl%252Fzl%252Fmenu%252Fcatalogus%252FBusreizen%252FHansi%252520Hinterseer%2525202008%26size=24.8kB%26name=HANSI.jpg%26p=hansi%2Bhinterseer%26type=JPG%26oid=d755a89501641920%26no=28%26tt=116%26sigr=12dhq2nug%26sigi=115pvaskq%26sigb=13pj91qs1"><img title="http:/emwww.mgtrading.nl/zl/menu/catalogus/Busreizen/Hansi%20Hinterseer%202008" src="http://re3.yt-thm-a04.yimg.com/image/25/m8/4061255834" alt="Go to fullsize image" width="130" height="130"></a> <a href="http://images.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl=http://thumb9.webshotsnet/t/62/462/9/37/4/2894937040091796449IMFhCc_th.jpg&imgrefurl=http://travel.webshots.com/album/560571088ztMpkN%3Fstart%3D36&h=75&w=100&sz=3&hl=en&start=54&um=1&usg=__YTWrQCKizBY1rq8MQFb0DeHbP9M=&tbnid=sTQGUp82EsU7lM:&tbnh=61&tbnw=82&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dhansai%2Bhinterseer%26start%3D40%26ndsp%3D20%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN"><img src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:sTQGUp82EsU7lM:http://thumb9webshots.net/t/62/462/9/37/4/2894937040091796449IMFhCc_th.jpg" alt="" width="82" height="61"></a></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/18/looking-to-download-the-age-of-aquarius-which-i-believed-4891016/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/18/looking-to-download-the-age-of-aquarius-which-i-believed-4891016/Sat, 18 Oct 2008 14:43:16 +0200 <p>Having wondered why such a hothouse had not yet been created, I was pleasantly chuffed to hear Prof Brian Cox on Any Questions (rad 4, 17 oct) propose a manhattan type project to address climate change. He suggested it might look at finally solving nuclear fusion, the process of creating nuclear energy where all the materials emerge as energy leaving no dangerous byproduct to be shipped to some poverty stricken country.</p> <p>He suggests of budget of 140 billion would be necessary and considering the numbers that have been bandied around in the past couple of weeks, this seems like small change to most governments and could probably be found down the back of Gordon Brown’s sofa. We seem able to find the money when necessary with suprisingly little fuss from the public, possibly keen to do anything to shore up their personal investments, savings and homes. </p> <p>At the end of the WW2 when the original Manhattan Project was pulled into existence by allied forces to race the Germans to creating a nuclear bomb, the greatest physicists were taken to the dessert, and essentially told to stay there til they come up with the solution. </p> <p>The impetus of war clearly focuses the mind, in the same way that the threat of immeninet economic collapse stokes political will. </p> <p>But why is there little political appetite to fund such a project to address climate change and provide clean, cheap fuel? Why couldn’t such research be funded by the G7, the UN, the IMF or, as in CERN, funding from various governments. </p> <p>The time span of Einstein’s paper proving e=mc2 to splitting the atom to creating the atomic bomb – the unfortunate culmination of that research – was a 40 years. And that was with the carrot and stick of WW2 to drive it forward. Unfortunately, rather than lead us to the conclusion of unlocking the secret to endless energy, we ended up in the cul de sac of the cold war. however, if we wait another 40 years, we in London may be swimming to work. Unfortunately, the creeping quality of climate change means we don’t see the threat so vividly, hence to lack of response. No one wants to commit to reducing carbon emissions because of the supposed strangulation on the economy. However investing in fusion, or frankly any type of clean energy does require a well funded hothouse of research which should enable us to cut emissions without going back to the dark ages in terms of quality of life. </p> <p>Is the oil lobby so strong and bursting at the seams with the indiscretions of so many politicians they dare not do anything to rattle it? </p> <p>As we’ve seen lately, where there’s a will there’s a way. However, in this instance, the will seems to be mere hot air, which can only hasten global warming. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/18/a-project-called-manhattan-4890997/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/10/18/a-project-called-manhattan-4890997/Sat, 18 Oct 2008 14:38:37 +0200 <p>I love her. This is the first time I’d seen her live and she was amazing. Like Pavarotti, her voice is magnificent and it all appears so effortless. She could be reading the paper and scratching her non-existent arse at the same time there seems so little exertion. </p> <p>She does do this one thing I’d noticed before and it makes me feel quite uncomfortable to see. She grabs the hem of her dress and pulls it up in a teasing way like a little girl busting for a wee. I’m always wincing, hoping we don’t get to gusset level. But it’s her thing, like Jo Cocker’s spasticated moves, it’s wholely her own.</p> <p>Her band are superb. Sexy fun and clearly paternal towards her, thank God, particulary her backing singers one of whom is so hot to trot Zalon I think. Got some groovy 1950s dance move’s going on which I have to say, looked fantastic mimicked by me in wellies!</p> <p>And I love her even more for her end of show mad mad comments. ‘you’ve been really nice….not everyone’s nice…..usually it’s boo…..booooooooo…..booo….they just go boo…boo. But you’ve been alright’ And not a mention of Blake. So good on you Amy. You slightly bonkers, fantastic, addled wunderkind.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/21/amy-crackhouse-rules-4619991/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/21/amy-crackhouse-rules-4619991/Thu, 21 Aug 2008 21:48:38 +0200 <p>I’ve lost my virginity. Finally at the age of the 38 I’ve actually gone to a music festival that involved sleeping under canvas – I say canvas but actually it was a 20 quid tent from tesco that would have gone up like a roman candle if anyone had been in spitting distance with a spliff.</p> <p>It was, however exceptionally good fun. Despite ticket fiasco –see sosmastertickets are cunts - managed to get VIP tickets through much cooler sister which has probably spoiled me for any other festival seeing as I had access to permanently clean loos, free drinks and food, exclusive sets by featured artistes and the best cheesy DJ I’ve heard in a long time. We also –and this is most important - had a very civilised camp site. There was space. People weren’t holding parties til dawn or being sick over our guy ropes. At my great age, you need a bit of kip. </p> <p>So here are my top tips for festival novices</p> <p>1 – get a sister with connections and get free VIP / VUP (very unimportant people) or HO (hanger on) tickets</p> <p>Failing that</p> <p>Make sure you’re not camping on a slope<br> · Take an airbed – sooooo worth it. And an auto blow up thing while you’re at it.<br> · Drive. Fuck the planet. I saw so many poor buggers staggering around the middle of nowhere schlepping what appeared like all their worldly possessions, it looked like the final scene from Fiddler on the Roof.<br> · If it’s your thing, make sure someone you know, if not you, has some drugs. Keeps you going during the day and means you don’t have to keep going to the bar, cheaper – V sells bar tokens at 3.30 and in cattle class you could only get strongbow, Carlsberg… and for the laydees….bacardi breezer or wine. If you do like to indulge, take them early on, so you’re just coming down towards the end of the day. As friends found to their cost (when you’re on the wrong side of 30) if you have a massive bender one night, not everyone’s able to get back in the saddle again the next day. So have a nice day time peak then get a good night’s kip so you’re ready rock and roll the next day. Which leads me on to my next point…<br> · Take earplugs. And some knock out drops. I personally favour Kalms nighttime. The combination of the two meant that I got a great night’s sleep both evenings and if someone had being singing the Verve’s greatest hits outside my tentflap (in my opinion, that would be quite a short set) I would have been oblivious.<br> · Take wellies. They mess up your dancing, but are well worth it.<br> · While we’re at it, take a cagoule. And a brollie. I saw Kaiser chiefs in the pissing rain, but it didn’t make a jot of difference. I skidded, I jumped, I looked like a trainspotter, but I didn’t give a hoot.<br> · In fact, at the very least follow the packing instructions suggested by the festival website – you will be grateful you bought wetwipes and bog roll<br> · Don’t buy tickets from a shitty tout website – that will ruin everything</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/21/losing-my-virginity-or-festivals-for-old-people-4619983/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/21/losing-my-virginity-or-festivals-for-old-people-4619983/Thu, 21 Aug 2008 21:47:43 +0200 <p>When I lived in Sheffield during the early 90s, there were many things that made the home of cutlery a brilliant city to have chosen for college. Clubbing for students was a riot with something available most nights. The Leadmill in particular is one of the best venues I've ever been to - a perfect size with a great line ups, club nights and jazz sundays and after an evening there I can testify that the burgers from the van outsde at 3 am, have never been bettered. I saw early Jameroquai there with a gig bus outside bigger than the venue but clearly necessary to accommodate his hattage. The place is so intimate it made any gig special, but with the atmosophere of somewhere like the Brixton Academy - fantastic. </p> <p>However, aside from this and the brilliant access to the beautiful Peak District right on your doorstep, Sheffield has all the benefits of a large city but with the friendliness of a market town. I never tired of being called 'love' or 'duck' when I got on the bus. </p> <p>But a real inconsequential pleasure that I treasured during my time there was driving up the M1 from Sheffield and passing the Concrete Flares, or the Tinsley Towers as I now know them to be called. The giant cooling towers were so impressively close to the road you felt absolutley dwarfed. But they weren't imposing, or sinister as huge looming structures often are, they were friendly and such a joy to see every time. </p> <p>It's a terrible shame they're to be destroyed there's not many things you look out for with glee when driving along any stretch of road. The angel of the north is one, the striding wicker man in Somerset another, but the Tinsley towers, were not contrived as art but art they are. A feat of engeineering and beautiful for that. When much of the industry of Sheffield was swept away, the steelworks and related manufacturing industries of North Sheffield lay abandoned when only Forgemasters, they of the supergun would shoot sparks into the night during the winter, the tinsley towers stood proud and magnificent against the skyline and I just adored them - feelings I assumed were just personal to me but are clearly shared by so many others. It is terribly sad to think the concrete flares will no longer be there, cheering me up as I beetle up the motorway giving me a smile for a few miles after I say hello to them. The M1 will soon be even duller. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/14/the-biggest-flares-in-the-world-4587623/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/14/the-biggest-flares-in-the-world-4587623/Thu, 14 Aug 2008 13:30:50 +0200 <p>For anyone who may be thinking about buying gig and festival tickets from agencies other than the genuine ticketing companies – masterticket, seeticket etc - please take heed of this tale of woe. </p> <p>Naïve Madonna fans including me have recently bought from an agency called SOSmasterticket.com who have been selling tickets for a Madonna night that didn’t exist – Sat 13 September when the only night is actually Thursday Sept 11.</p> <p>It’s a frequent ploy of promoters to announce additional nights after the initial nights have sold out. Die hard fans often go to gigs on several occasions, and it’s a way of getting a second bite of the publicity cherry. So to hear that there was an additional night available that hadn’t yet been announced wasn’t that surprising.</p> <p>At the same time, we purchased tickets for V from the same company: the prices looked pretty good, not massively exploitative unlike some but a reasonable mark up.</p> <p>However, several weeks after ordering, I started to get slightly twitchy. A mate heard a radio competition to win tickets for the only London Madonna concert and called me about it. I’d been trying to ignore the niggle in the back of my mind for some time, on why my tickets hadn’t arrived and when friends started asking what camping area we’d be in for V I decided it was time to chase. </p> <p>Repeated calls informed me the V tickets would be sent out 3 weeks, then 2 weeks, the 7 days then 5 days prior to the event.</p> <p>I then received an email informing me that I could pick up the tickets at the venue on Friday the 15th, the day before the festival but the day most people go down to set up tents etc. To get my tickets I would have to contact a bloke called Richard. On his mobile. I kid you not.</p> <p>So furious, I contacted Richard who I can’t actually believe picked up the phone – clearly all very professional as I heard a child whining and the tinkle of an ice cream van in the background during our conversation (maybe that’s how he delivers the tickets “so that was a 99, a solero and a couple of tickets for Madonna at the Hackney Empire?”) I asked him about the situation and he assured me that according to the terms and conditions they are allowed to deliver tickets up to an hour prior to the event. </p> <p>Apparently this particular company operates out of Spain – not illegal but not confidence inspiring – though according to one of the people I spoke to they also have an office in Farringdon – this was later denied by another person I spoke to.</p> <p>Don’t credit cards have a black list for companies like this?</p> <p>So, I’ve written to my Visa company hoping I’ll get money back from them. There’s also a facebook group - don’t touch sosmastertickets with an elongated bargepole - group which in 6 days has 46 members. I’ll keep you posted on the outcome from Visa, and if you’ve ever been affected, please join the facebook group, for what it’s worth. </p> <p>But as a word of warning, don’t bother with this company. Some forums have said they’ve received tickets from them without hassle and I’m sure that’s the case. But there are also many who haven’t. Another individual who unfortunately bought his tickets by debit card has been trying to get money back for 9 weeks – they keep promising it but it’s yet to appear.</p> <p>As for the Madonnna tickets, the additional night they were promoting was never going to happen. They said it had been cancelled – a phone call to Wembley proved it had never been considered - and when we asked why hadn’t they informed us they didn’t answer just said our tickets would be transferred to the one and only night. I’m thinking, that’s pretty unlikely and even if legitimate would surely be attempting to get a pint into a half pint pot. Web comments indicate that those who have received tickets have received fakes as the genuine article states doors open at 5.30pm with those from sosmasterticket state doors open at 7pm.</p> <p>I’ve learnt several lessons on this </p> <p>· A dodgy ticket tout is a dodgy ticket tout and a flash website instead of no teeth and smelling of lager doesn’t make them any more likely to provide a decent product. In fact less so as they are virtual and almost untouchable - at least the old fashioned way, you get to see the product.</p> <p>· Always read the terms and conditions for any organisation for which you not 100% sure of.</p> <p>· If you are in doubt but go ahead anyway, always buy by credit card and a straw pole suggests that Visa are company of choice in terms of getting money back.</p> <p>· Do some hunting round the web under the ‘name of the organisation’ plus the word ‘problems’: it generally makes quite interesting reading.</p> <p>I’ll keep you posted, but for those who have bought stuff from any dodgy online outfit, hassle your credit card company into blacklisting them. If these organisations can’t get money through credit cards their business is as good as dead. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/14/touting-for-business-4586115/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/14/touting-for-business-4586115/Thu, 14 Aug 2008 06:44:32 +0200 <p>Radio 4 has a policy of letting the author of a memoir or autobiography read it themselves. It's not always the most professional production but it's always authentic. But should there be a point where authenticity should sacrificed for quality? </p> <p>Grevel Lindop's memoir of his travels round south america to expand his experience of latin dance was a delightful story but his reading of it was just cushion bitingly awful. The man veally veally cannot say his rs. Not in a Jonathon Woss way, but in a Jonathan vross, or Danny the drug dealer from 'Withnail and I' way. This was a memoir about the sexiest dances on earth. I could not lose myself in the story without imagining what this guy looked like with his ridiculous speech impediment, and it wasn't a sexy image. As a result, I've had to google him and I wasn't far off</p> <p>When we read or hear a book, there is an interaction between the words and our experience, expectations and imagination. All collide to ensure that our experience will be qualitatively different from anyone elses. </p> <p>This was awful. Radio 4 - this should have been read by a sexy voice, or even an unimpeded voice. But not a voice that makes me think uber-geek. This pipe cleaner of a man, shaking his thang, talking about dancers skin and breasts made my flesh crawl. He must have willfully crammed in as many rs as he could - at fvree o'clock, I met a fvwriend of a fvwriend of a fvwriend called fvwRaphael .... Vradio 4 - for fucks sake you must have vrealised you were entering Welease Woderick tewwitowy? creative licence is necessary sometimes - here accuracy and truth just ruined what could have been a beautiful production. </p> <p>Dear Reader, I urge you to listen while it's still available - as it's unintentionally hysterical.</p> <p><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/arts/book_week.shtml">http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/arts/book_week.shtml</a></p> <p>Sorry, Grevel. Grevel? Grevel???! Says it all really.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/13/title-4582195/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/08/13/title-4582195/Wed, 13 Aug 2008 10:00:16 +0200 <p>Ok, to the women out there - the men seemed to have worked this out - I'm going to give you some information that might save you up to £12 (including popcorn) approximately 3 hours of your life (including travelling time) and may i say, potentially your sanity. </p> <p>Meryl Streep marries Pierce Brosnan, the daughter doesn't get married and ends up not giving a shit - along with me - which one of her, let's face it, bit of bike mum's summer loves was her father. </p> <p>Mamma sodding Mia has just bumped 'Next Best Thing' starring Madge and Rupert Everett off the top spot of shittest films I've seen.</p> <p>My sister at one point looked along the row of the three of us who were being subjected to it, and each had our hands over our mouths and were peering through fingers at the screen. Not only did it resemble watching a horror in the fact that were physically flinching from the images as well as covering our ears for a good chunk of the film, but we came out feeling the sort of anxiety only experienced after really bad cocaine or a first viewing of the Exorcist. The unremitting horror has your adrenalin pumping as you sit on the edge of your seat waiting to be subjected to yet another grisly ordeal, in this case Meryl warbling the winner takes it all to Pierce on the edge of a cliff. At which point I'm mentally screaming at the screen, Pierce, for fuck's sake, one quick shove and she's gone! or - and I had to double check this on youtube as I'd gone for a prolonged pee break - Pierce singing SOS back to back with La Streep. He has without doubt, the worst voice I’ve ever heard. Like Shane McGowan sober, with teeth and tone deaf.</p> <p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I7jZ7AdFSKo">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I7jZ7AdFSKo</a></p> <p>I don't understand how anyone can have enjoyed this. An appallingly lazy script, performances that were total caricatures, with Julie Walters playing an even hammier than usual version of, er, Julie Walters and being left with the feeling one might get watching one's parents drunkenly feel each other up publicly while your grandma plays with herself in the corner</p> <p>Sisters, save yourselves - I went, so you don't have to. And I want to publicly apologise to my friend Simon for encouraging him to do the right thing and agree to go with his girlfriend to see MM on the basis that blokes just have to do that sometimes. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/07/30/title-4522547/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/07/30/title-4522547/Wed, 30 Jul 2008 23:45:24 +0200 <p>wow. Went to see Blondie tonight. It was a freebie and though I was addicted to Parallel Lines at the age of about 8, I just thought, hey another gig. This was as part of the motor show - no I don't give a monkeys about the latest small/fast/green cars, but a free gig's a free gig. I kind of got the feeling that Debbie et al felt they had sold their souls to the devil, taking what must have been a fat cheque for playing to a lot of balding or hairsprayed, too-tight jean or God awful crop trouser wearing 40+ year old blokes in Canning Town, but after a few tracks from Parallel Lines - it's the 30th annniversary (FUCK!!!) - they really seemed to get into it. </p> <p>Debbie, bless her, took off her heels after about 5 tracks, including my favourite, One Way or Another, and changend into a pair or Birkenstocks -that's my girl! - stating, 'oh it's that time in the evening' and carried on jumping around. She's still got an amazing voice, fresh and strong, and her face looks just stunning. She's lost some weight and has clearly had some facework down, BUT she doesn't look as if sh's trying to be a 20 year old. But she's got bone structure to die for and as a friend said after confessing she was one of his earliest wank fantasies, she's still worth knocking one out over. Noice! However, I guess to a woman in her sixties, that may be as big a compliment as 2 dozen red roses was at the age of 25. Actually I think that's Darwinian proof of the value of women as we become less capable of expanding the gene pool: we older birds have got to take it where we can. </p> <p>Jumping around like a loon attempting to sing along to Rapture, Call Me and a rendition of Purple haze and Hey You Yet off of my Cloud, songs that were lyrically ingrained 20 years ago however was a huge improvement on the 'Butthole surfers' gig on Saturday night. </p> <p>Now I'm happy to admit i know shag all about punk, but the gig at the Forum last weekend did provide food for though. I'm not a fan, but sitting upstairs looking down on those thrashing about in the bygone-stalls, was a bit dispiriting. Surely if i'm going to enjoy the full experience, it's got to include elbowing a few people, skidding over a bit, and generaly jumping around like a twat. But hey, I'm prepared to experience it from a different perspective. </p> <p>But the essenece of the evening did seem to involve social inadequates - both audience and band - attempting to shock for the sheer sake of it. Images of circumcision had all the blokes I observed - about 80 per cent of the audience - clutching the nether regions for protection's sake. On the video screen, these images were swiftly followed by up close and personal footage of someone giving birth. I muttered to my neighbour, death and torture would be next, which I smuggly noted to be true, in the guise of car crashes in many shapes and forms, bull fighting and running of the bulls in pampalona showing what appeared to be death by el toro replayed over and over again. </p> <p>the names of these tyep of bands all appear have serious sexually aggressive overtones. They are however also very amusing, at least to my Viz-type mind. The butthole surfers. Morgan Freeman's psychadelic semen and my favourites, The Fuck Buttons. However, watching a bunch of nearly 50 year old blokes sharing the stage with a gaggle of what appeared to be 16 year old girls, looked vampiresque to say the least. A thrash around as an encore appearing to be merely organised chaos to me looked pretentious and exploitative of the youngsters involved. </p> <p>Desperate. But hey, I'm not a socially useless IT support officer for whom this is my only expression of emotion. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/07/29/crumbly-bodies-don-t-do-us-justice-4513469/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/07/29/crumbly-bodies-don-t-do-us-justice-4513469/Tue, 29 Jul 2008 00:12:03 +0200 <p>Tonight's local election shows more clearly than ever that polls are now dictated by the leader. Gordon's plummetted with his charmless governance. Liberals? Who they then? And Tony-esque Cameron, with a whiff of charisma and a big dollop of default has schmoozed his way into the lead. Who says we're not like the Americans and as shallow as a bird bath on a blisteringly hot day? </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/05/02/we-like-you-cos-you-re-pretty-4120876/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/05/02/we-like-you-cos-you-re-pretty-4120876/Fri, 02 May 2008 01:27:30 +0200 <p>I'm a HUGE fan of election night: general, council or parish and there I am, glued to the box, revelling in the speculation, back biting and bitching. But i was NOT prepared for the full horror of Jeremy Vine. I just do not get the cultivation of the Vine that the BBC is engaged in. From several years ago, when he occassionally stood in for Paxman and it was clear he was merely attempting a poor immitation of Jezza, and it was as cushion-bitingly cringeworthy as Gordon Brown attempting a witty aside. </p> <p>HE's subsequently become a main stay of Radio 2 = well, fine, whatever - but also is now the attrocious cod Nicky Campbell-esque presenter of, as if it needed a presenter, in it's new, shrink rapped pocket sized Panorama, - in an 'I'M TALKING TO SOMEONE VERY HARD OF HEARING' style.</p> <p>BUT i really do not need this scrawny, unnecessary wanabee actor/ voiceover /Peter 'swingometer' Snow and might I say completely arseless in his let's get down with the kids crap low slung jeans patronising style, wasting my time, with not an insight in sight. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/05/02/election-schmelection-4120836/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/05/02/election-schmelection-4120836/Fri, 02 May 2008 00:38:32 +0200 <p>I haven't looked at the ratings of Mad Men on BBC4 on Sunday nights but I'm sure it's punching above it's weight for that particular slot on the channel. The first episode shocked me rigid. I don't know if initially the sexism was cranked up to 10 for sheer impact, in which case it had the desired effect or whether I've become imune. If so that's deeply worrying as we're only on episode 6 and I'm clearly happy to ignore 40 years of bra burning fish without bicycles. </p> <p>However, in the last couple of weeks, I've noticed a more worrying concern and am curious if anyone else has suffered the same problem. I haven't smoked for about 4 years, but by the end of each episode I'm just gagging for a fag. Like a nicotine drunk Beagle, my eyes ignore the fashion, the period detail, the ridiculously pointy bras they make Peggy wear. Sexism, schmexism, all I can stare at are the smouldering embers of the ever present cigarettes. This is smoking Dennis Leary style: forget the after dinner fag, this lot puff while they eat. </p> <p>Due to smoking bans I have to assume they're herbal cigarettes and if so, I pity the cast. Many years ago a friend and i had a competition to buy the most disgusting cigarettes we could find whilst on holiday. I won, managing to find 200 fags for under 50p in Andorra. They smelled like a combination of forest fire and the residual scent of melted plastic that remained in the house for weeks after my mum left the kenwood chef on top of a still scalding ceramic hob. However even they didn't smell as bad as herbal fags I used in one attempt to stop smoking which if you can imagine burning camel dung , then you're not far off. </p> <p>So I would say the cast of Mad Men are suffering for their art but I may have to stop watching Mad Men simply to avoid the nicotine cravings, which would be a shame, as I want to see politics enter the fray in the guise of Kennedy and King. 'But hey, the little lady's gotta do what she's gotta do. Can you fix me a martini, honey?'</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/04/15/mad-men-4045472/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/04/15/mad-men-4045472/Tue, 15 Apr 2008 00:04:18 +0200 <p>I have been lucky enough to eat in some superb restaurants in my time, particularly when I used to have a proper job and the lunches were on expenses. However there is nothing i have found quite so saliver inducing as the crispy coating of Kentucky Fried Chicken. I suspect that to me, the 11 herbs and spices of the Colonel's secret recipe are every bit as addictive as Thomas De Quincey's 19th century smack.</p> <p>That was however until about a year ago when I watched one of Hugh F-W's programmes (seriously, who's got the time to type his name?? And yes, I'm aware of the irony in the fact taht I've subsequently typed considerably more in stating I'm not going to type his ridiculous name than I would in actually typing it) This was pre the whole 'chicken run' thing with jamie and though that was a laudable attempt I did find myself becoming quite de-sensitized to the horror of the situation through over exposure in the same way the farmer or a nazi commandant must do. However, this particular programme - chavs eat chickens, I think was the title - took a group of people for whom chicken was a mainstay of their diet, either through KFC addiction like me (and I actually think if the priory started a little offshoot programme they'd be on to a winner) those that had roast chicken 3 or 4 times a week to feed their families, unable to resist the '2 for 1, for god's sake we're practically giving them away you'd be absolutly nuts not ot buy them' option, and so forth. </p> <p>Hugh taught us many things on that programme: the difference between a happy chicken and a miserable scrawny battery beast; how to make several meals out of a really good chicken; eating the whole bird including the feet, and most importantly he taught the kfc addict how to make his own homemade version of colonel's cheeky kiddie meal, chicken popcorn. </p> <p>I was converted. Seeing the misery of the cramped, forcefed, sun and fresh air starved existence I vowed I would never eat evil chicken again. </p> <p>Aware of the impact this would have on my little KFC problem, I attempted to make my own, trying to remember Hugh's tips. I asked black friends who bother to make their own version how to make good fried chicken, recieved guidance from a friend who it'd turned out had worked in a KFC many moons ago and scoured the internet secret recipe websites for some hint on how to replicate the taste. My attempts had absolutly no bearing on the delicacy that is KFC/Dixy/Tennesse/and Kensey fried chicken. [NB: Living in East London, the number of fried chicken outlets per capita I would say is quite possibly the highest in the country and the variations on a name are too numerous to mention. However, I'm always slightly cautious of the Kensey franchise, not knowing who or where Kensey is: my concern being that it is a misspelling of Kinsey and that someone somewhere is doing even more unspeakable things to chickens.] </p> <p>Anyway, my efforts at home made fried chicken were pathetic. The poultry, organic and free range though it was, went into the fat covered in something that I suspect bears no resemblence to the colonel's secret recipe and came out terrified and wizened, the meat scrawney and tense as if the process had literally shocked and scared it. The kitchen filled with smoke and I could sense the local fire station were at the ready. There was no resemblence between my sad little meal and the succulence that is the colonel's special meal deal.</p> <p>Despite these lame results, Hugh’s programme stayed with me and I changed my buying habits beyond the humble hen. Only happy organic free range chicken, lamb, pig and cow for me. I visited butchers. I almost bankrupted myself aquiring the highest welfare turkey I could find for Christmas. It had a gold medal, and, I think, a couple of GCSEs. And as for eating out, I have only partaken of prawn curries since as frankly even vegetarians don't really care about prawns, but god, I miss chicken tandoori. My stand has forced me to make my own Thai green curry padded out with lots of aubergine and courgette cos have you seen the price of an organic free range happy chicken breast? My favourite thai starter is out of bounds: stuffed chicken wings. Yes, yes I can make it myself but frankly I can't be arsed and it certainly won't tast the same though I have been tempted to get my own free range wings and give them to my favourite thai restaurant and ask them if they’ll prepare a special batch for for me. It is overwhelming how this has impacted on my life. I can't go and grab a sandwich anywhere. Unless I want cheese and onion or roasted vegetables, I'm stuffed. Can't even do egg and cress as only waitrose uses free range. There are no supermarket ready meals that use high welfare meat. Supermarkets surely you are missing a trick here?</p> <p>However I have a confession. My efforts to make happy fried chicken have been unrewarding and over the year, the urge to visit the the colonel has become overwhelming. Like Thomas d Q and all addicts before me, the obsession grows vaster and more invasive in my mind. </p> <p>In the same way that drug addicts feel when the internal battle becomes too great, it is not to the drug that one finally succumbs, but simply for the mental respite. The thought of accessing your drug of choice becomes so overwhelmingly monumental that not one single solitaray waking second is not tainted by the shadow of your nemisis. </p> <p>And so eventually, after much mental anguish, a wise friend said to me, 'For god's sake, just go and eat the bloody thing, get it out of your system. If you only do it once a year, think of all the chickens you're saving.' This was the guidance I’d been searching for, taking further comfort from the fact taht this friend is a vegetarian.</p> <p>And so, with reverence, to the land of buckets I went. If I'm gonna go for broke, I may as well do it in style.</p> <p>'Three peice variety meal, please' I shouted into the walky talky post held together by gaffer tape.</p> <p>'you want to go large?' the post responds</p> <p>'no' I'm not here for the chips, mate</p> <p>'drink?' it barked back</p> <p>'diet coke' as if that's going to take the edge off the nine million calories I'm about to consume</p> <p>the moral battle in my head was so loud. </p> <p>Think about those poor chickens living life's of misery. Come on, you've done nearly a year of this.</p> <p>yes, i know, i know but what about my sanity?</p> <p>But their poor pathetic lives?</p> <p>SHUT UP SHUT UP!! I CAN'T HELP MYSELF. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. </p> <p>and so I took my brown paper bag of food. I drove. I parked somewhere quiet. I got out my ‘bucket’. I placed my handy wipe on the dashboard. I sprinked my salt into my bag of chips and shook. </p> <p>I paused for a moment. And then I bit. Into one of the hot, chilli, crispy wings. </p> <p>Oh. It was bliss. It was as good as I rememberd. Sweeter, for not having tasted it for so long. Hot. Spiciness had been preceeded by the inevitable tiny ejaculation of hot oil, for let's face it, this meal is off the scale when it comes to weightwatchers points. </p> <p>I gorged myself as i tried to push the thoughts of the chickens away. trying to salve my conscience by telling myself this is the one and only time. Once a year. Once a year only on the 31st March. Then and only then! That will be Chicken Day! For Harry and St George!!</p> <p>Inevitably after eating such a vast quantity of calories I felt slightly sick.</p> <p>Bugger, I thought as I drained the last of my diet coke which was immediately absorbed by the the dead sea of salt I'd just consumed, I should've gone large.</p> <p>Surely there must be an opportunity for some wise entrepreneur to start the OFC: organic fried chicken so I and millions of others can enjoy some guilt free chicken? M&S. I beg you. Can’t you start making some homemade fried chicken from happy birds. Surely a range of free range is a good business plan?? Hugh? Are you listening? </p> <p>A few hours after my indulgence, I started to feel a bit unsettled. That unnerving gurgling in the abdomen, a watery palate. Oh dear. It may have been poor hygiene standards in my local KFC, or simply guilt, but in my moral world I like to think the chickens wreaked their revenge on me that night and well into the following day. And that, my clucking friends, was even better aversion therapy than I could have hoped for. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/04/10/confessions-of-an-english-chicken-eater-4023878/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/04/10/confessions-of-an-english-chicken-eater-4023878/Thu, 10 Apr 2008 06:47:14 +0200 <p> I have a complaint I’d like to address to channel 4. They’re contributing to the demise of the economy and frankly they’re preventing me from being the enormously successful individual I know, deep down, that I am. Can someone in scheduling please tell me why they put on 2 hours of back to back comedy first thing in the morning? <strong>Who</strong>, apart from the self employed have the time to watch <em>There’s Something About Raymond </em>at 7.30? If you’re a stay at home mum, you’ve got the kids to get ready by the time <em>Just Shoot Me</em> starts at 8am and if you’re a ‘proper’ worker you’re out the door and stuck in a traffic jam from by the time <em>Frasier</em> kicks off and responding to emails by <em>Will and Grace</em> o’clock. Any self respecting student should still be unconscious by the time it’s over, so seriously, is this scheduling completely aimed at those able to work in their pyjamas and the long term unemployed? And now the kids holidays have started, there's <em>Friends </em> at 9.30 to contend with. What amazingly creative children friendly scheduling. Just stop it channel 4. If it weren't for you, I'd have won the orange prize for fiction or be Controller of Radio 4 or at least have done the washing up by now.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/04/07/title-4008882/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://DailyDrivel.blog.co.uk/2008/04/07/title-4008882/Mon, 07 Apr 2008 09:40:03 +0200