Festive Gripe

Christmas and New Year are shit, and families are vile.


Oh, for a hermit's cave (with an internet connection)...

Ra Big Gemme

So it's crunch time.
The rest of Scotland seems to be full of confidence.
I don't like it when they do that :(

I have a bad feeling.

But hopefully I'll report back later that I was being overly pessimistic.
That would be nice...

Woohoo! or something similar

So Glasgow will be hosting the 2014 Commonwealth Games.


I shall now try very hard to summon some enthusiasm regarding this news.



Nope, nothing yet...



(I'm back, by the way)

Hiatus

Back whenever.

Blockage

Gah, I can't think what to write.

Someone else think of something, will you?

Gah...

Postural hypotension can fuck right off.

That is all.

Ha ha!

The oats have it

Who says Scotland isn't at the cutting edge of technology?

Porridge bowl sets world record

The biggest bowl of porridge ever made has been created in Edinburgh, breaking the world record.

Weighing 81.2kg, the huge breakfast was expected to fill up to 2,000 bowls at the Edinburgh Farmers' Market.

The feat broke the existing world record, which was set at 66.26 kg at a farmers' market event in Warwickshire in January.

They've only gone and done it!

Korma Chameleon

Dear Tesco,

Thank you very much for having a product research day in store today, my detailed assessment of your two chicken korma samples just saved me from having to make lunch.

Regards,
Betsie

In related news, as overheard on the bus today: "These days you have to ask the driver if you want to go to Tesco, you can't tell if they will or not". Some belated advice, my dear - try looking at the fucking timetable, where it clearly states which buses go where and when. Or if that's too difficult, try looking at the front of the fucking bus, where you can tell whether it's going via Tesco by the big fucking letters saying "via Tesco". I'm just full of helpful tips, aren't I?

In unrelated news, it's the final of Big Brother 7 tonight. Who wins? Who cares! (edit: it is, of course, Big Brother 8. Which does somewhat demonstrate just how dire it's been. If someone who has watched it all from the start gets that wrong, something is clearly rotten in the state of Endemol)

And in irrelevant to the universe as a whole news: Princess Diana In Still Dead Shocker.

The new suede skirt

Note to self: I really need to stop buying mini-skirts, I'm getting a bit too old for such things. However, this was no ordinary skirt: no, this was (almost) the skirt I've been dreaming about for years. Let me explain..

When I was a small child, one of my very favourite things to do was play with my dressing-up box. This was an old wicker number, filled to the brim (or was that just my amazing packing skills making an early appearance?) with my mum's discarded 1970s outfits. There was a grand selection - the yellow polka dot jacket and skirt combo was a real winner, and the baby blue platform shoes were great fun to fall over in. One piece, however, stood head and shoulders over the rest: the brown suede wrapover miniskirt. It was a real beauty, and delightfully tactile. How I longed for the day when I'd be big enough to wear it properly!

However, fate was not on my side. By the time I'd finally grown up enough to nab it, someone had purged that box of wonders. My skirt was gone, and I was devastated. Ever since then, I've been on a lookout for the mythical suede number, but nothing has ever quite measured up. The green one is nice, but it's green. Various other soft fabrics have tried to act as substitute, but they really haven't measured up. Even this new one isn't quite right - it's not got the wrapover thing going on - but it is brown, suede, and only cost a fiver, so I guess it'll do for now..

Woohoo!

Woohoo!


Chris Morris and Peep Show team up

They won't say what it's about, they won't say when it's coming, but it doesn't matter: Chris Morris and the creators of Peep Show are collaborating and you can't miss it. Not least because whenever it comes, anything by Morris will cause a storm in the press.

Morris is best known for spiky satires such as Brass Eye and The Day Today, which so precisely cut through news and documentary television clichés that they're as painful as they are funny to watch. Whereas Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong are on a high writing the fifth series of Channel 4's Peep Show plus a second US pilot version.

It's Armstrong who has confirmed the project but won't reveal specifics: "I can't say anything more at the moment. Chris will announce further details when he wants to."

Woohoo! Woohoo! Woohoo!

Some mistake surely. I'm always late.

Your Score: Sometimes late.

You scored 60%!

You just need some training and discipline. You are probably late intentionally, but you seem to lose the track of time often.

Link: The Am I punctual Test written by wildlikestorm on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Wendy Who?

So, Wendy Alexander is to be the new leader of Scottish Labour. It's almost as if they don't want me to vote for them. Would it really have hurt some in the Labour Party to support another candidate, as least giving the impression that she was democratically elected? Not that the SNP's second-in-command Nicola Sturgeon is an improvement in any way, they're equally annoying .

However, even more annoying than either of them is Wendy's brother, Douglas Alexander. Many years back now, before he became Gordon Brown's little buddy down at Westminster, he was the Labour candidate in the Perth and Kinross by-election (caused by the death of Tory nutjob Nicky Fairbairn). There was a special "Words With Wark" (Scottish political TV show of the day, hosted by Kirsty Wark) in the run-up to polling day, and I was in the audience to ask a question of the UKIP guy (why are you such a fucking half-witted bigot, only put more politely).

The highlight of that was, of course, meeting the delightful Screaming Lord Sutch, but afterwards I tagged along to the Labour Party do elsewhere in town (they had a bigger draw than the other parties: Glenda Jackson and Gordon Brown won me over to the red side. If the SNP had invited Sean Connery along, I'd have gone there instead).

So, with two chances to view Mr Alexander in action in one night, what lasting impression did he leave? Not a good one. He came across as a New Labour robot, speaking in all the correct buzz words, devoid of emotional connection in anything he uttered, and incapable of comprehending sufficiently questions asked of him so sticking rigidly to the preprogrammed script. So, just a typical modern British politician then. God forbid they should have a soul.

In the end, he was soundly defeated by the SNP's Roseanna Cunningham (who actually has some principles, amazingly enough. And still uses public transport. It's a miracle!), but the Alexander clan continued their ascent through the political ranks

Lucky us...

Blimey...

Oh the irony..

The Ideal Job for Your Personality Test

Your Score: Computer Programmer

You scored 53 intelligence, 37 diligence, 35 charisma, and 37 compassion!

You don't do well with people. Avoid them at all costs. Machines are your best friend.


Other jobs you might be good at: web designer, engineer

Link: The Ideal Job for Your Personality Test written by newbluechampion on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Yeah, because that postgrad IT course went ever so well...
(It's not a good idea to sign up for a class for the sole reason that you can get funding for it. Generally speaking, it helps if it's something you actually want to do in the first place)

Ooh, sharp

I think it might be time to cut my nails

Especially this one

RIP Lee Hazlewood

I've only just heard.

A true legend.

Sometimes, when you see someone in the street, it's best just to look away..

Half-good news...

From BBC News (quoted in full, cos I'm too lazy for editing):

Actor Chris Langham has been found guilty of downloading child porn.

Langham, of Golford, Kent, said he was only studying the porn as research for a television drama - but he was convicted at Maidstone Crown Court.

However, the 58-year-old actor has been acquitted of charges of indecently assaulting an underage girl and two counts of a serious sexual offence.

Judge Philip Statman remanded the BAFTA winner in custody for sentencing on September 14.

The jury of seven men and four women deliberated for about two hours and 40 minutes before they returned their verdicts.

Langham claimed in court that he had looked at the images while formulating a character for the BBC series Help.

He said he pleaded not guilty because he did not want to be called a paedophile.

While giving evidence his Help co-star, comedian Paul Whitehouse, told the court that he had no knowledge Langham used child pornography for research.

During his time in the witness box, Langham said when he was eight he had been the victim of abuse while on holiday in Canada. He said he did not want to go into any detail, but he felt "deep, deep shame" about what had happened.

Langham also told the jury victims of abuse were his "brothers and sisters" and he felt no shame in looking at child pornography.

When asked by the prosecution why he had saved images on to his computer, he replied: "I thought if I could become angry enough I might be able to break this problem I have in accessing this stuff myself."

The jury were directed to clear the actor of four other indecent assault charges part way through the trial.

In a statement read out by his solicitor, Langham said: "I am absolutely delighted my name has been cleared of all the charges I have consistently denied.

"I have been found guilty on charges I have made admission to from the moment of my first arrest.

"I am grateful to the jury for their careful deliberation and I would also like to thank the press for their restraint in not making the lives of my wife, children and family difficult during this time and I implore them to continue to grant my family the privacy they need.

"I am afraid I am unable to comment further until sentence on the 14 September."

Det Insp Derek Cuff, of Kent Police, said: "Let us not forget that child abuse images circulating on the internet are real situations involving real children, who are sexually abused for other's gain and self-gratification.

"Viewing such images simply perpetuates child abuse."

He added: "The jury had to view some images that had to be selected carefully - but what they saw and heard in evidence is harrowing and disturbing.

"I think this itself puts some measure of perspective on the level of child abuse we are dealing with."

Admitting in court that he'd probably have kept on downloading images if he hadn't been arrested may have been a little too honest, frankly. The more serious charges have clearly been shown to be utter twaddle though, so that's a good thing.

Feet haters of the world unite

What is it with Yahoo and foot fetishists? Every second person on there seems to be one, and they all want to talk to me. Shame for them that I hate the scabby things then.

(I never caught the shoes-and-handbags bug that seems to affect so many women either. Buy shoes - wear shoes till fall apart - buy new shoes, that's how it works in my world)

Two down...

So that's Ingmar Bergman and Michelangelo Antonioni both gone in one day.

This piece here is s little harsh on Antonioni's later work:

Moreover, when he made a belated return to film-making in 1995, the result proved faintly embarrassing. Stuffed full of earnest voice-overs and toe-curling sex scenes, Beyond the Clouds was the cinematic equivalent of an old man reading poetry to a young woman while simultaneously using his stick to lift up her skirt. No doubt this was a film that came from the heart (or someplace near it), but it notably lacked the poise and confidence of his earlier work.

Well I rather liked it. And there's some gorgeous imagery contained therein. So there.

Still it's more for the "events on my birthday through the years" file. And highly preferable to a certain football team cheating their way to a World Cup win. Pretty much anything is better than that.

Whoop-de-doo, I'm fucking old

to meeeeeeee!

With these film classification descriptions you are really spoiling us

Since the British Board of Film Classification began adding descriptive text to their certificates, reading about cinema releases has been much more fun. Take, for example, the current film schedule at the DCA.

If it's violence you're after, then there's a wide variety to choose from. There's mild peril for the kiddies (Spirited Away), mild violence (The Blood of a Poet), moderate violence (The Walker), bloody violence (Ten Canoes), action-adventure violence (Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End), war violence (The Dam Busters) and, of course, strong violence including sexual violence and scene of degradation and torture (Salo) - good old Pasolini.

If you prefer your film experience with added swearing, then perhaps you should opt for Billy Liar (mild language), Water (moderate language), The Night of the Sunflowers (strong language), Paris, je t'aime (very strong language). Or if that's a bit too much for you, best stick to The Seventh Seal, with it's "language". I'm assuming they don't mean Swedish (be warned though, this film also contains "threat", whatever that means)

But never mind that, where's the sex, I hear you cry. Well Golden Door contains "natural nudity", Brief Encounter apparently has "mild sex references" (terribly, terribly polite ones, of course), Fire offers up "infrequent sex" and The Killing of a Chinese Bookie "moderate nudity", Molière proffers a mere "one scene of moderate sex" and Shadows "moderate sex references". If the "strong sex" of The Lives of Others doesn't appeal, then perhaps Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer's "mild innuendo" would be more your cup of tea. (Incidentally, Goldfinger is apparently free of this, and, indeed any other need for warning. Apparently having a main character called Pussy Galore isn't innuendo in their world. Bizarre)

My very favourite classification in this bunch, however, has to be that for A Woman Under the Influence. Watch out, folks, this film contains "emotional intensity".


Many more warnings here.

My Childhood Hell, part one

Bookstores these days have entire sections devoted to "Tragic Life Stories", so, never one to shy from extremely belatedly jumping on a tawdry bandwagon, it's time to share some of my own youthful traumas.

Number one - I live to dance!

Way back in the mists of time, I wanted to be a ballerina. I believe this syndrome is commonly referred to as "being a girl". Accordingly, I was signed up for ballet and tap lessons at the local community centre. I think my mum still has my turquoise leotard with added frills and tiny ballet shoes lurking somewhere. So anyway, it was most enjoyable (tap more so, as it happens, it's great fun), and I even got some crappy medals via the yearly exams.

As a dancing fan, I was naturally very keen when my parents asked if I'd like to go and see Scottish Ballet perform as a birthday treat. Yes! Of course I would! What could be better?

Well, this certainly couldn't.














Having built up my hopes, the evil grown-ups then either couldn't get hold of/baulked at the price of the ballet tickets (I know which one my money's on). So, instead, I was taken along to see Keith Harris and Orville.

Yeah, thanks.

On a related note, my dancing days soon came to a premature end when shooting leg pains associated with flat feet made it far too painful to continue. Oh the hardship etc.


By the way, for a proper antidote to all the tales of woe cluttering up the bookshelves, I heartily reccommend this delightful tome: Andrew Collins - Where Did It All Go Right?

Daily Mail Readers In Uninformed Outrage Shocker

Example one.

Example two.

There's plenty more, but I wouldn't be so cruel as to expose my poor readers to such things...

Now that's more like it, Amazon

Now they're recommending this lot:

Classics of German Cinema
with the following films:
Der Golem, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Asphalt, The Blue Angel and Munchausen.

I can sort-of see the point in the inclusion of the latter film (though these two doozies may have been a more accurate reflection of Nazi cinema), but would a bit of Murnau really have killed them?

Jean-Luc Godard Collection Vol.1
with the following films:
Alphaville, Passion, À bout de souffle, Made In USA, and two unnamed others.

Now, call me fussy, but it's quite useful to know in advance what films you're getting. If say, Les Carabiniers, Prénom: Carmen, or Le Mépris, are amongst them, then I'd rather skip it.
If, however Weekend, Pierrot le fou, Vivre sa vie, Une Femme est Une Femme, Bande à Part or Deux ou Trois Choses Que Je Sais d'Elle are in the mix then that's quite another matter..

Of course I've already got a nice little Godard collection myself,. so it's fairly irrelevant to me anyways :)

Shameful Confession Time

I was watching The Queen round at my mother's house yesterday, and it brought back some horrible memories.

On 31st August 1997, I was (surprise!) struggling to sleep, and thus was listening to BBC Five on the radio. News came in that there had been a car crash in Paris, that Dodi Fayed was dead, and Princess Diana injured. As later reports gave more details, it was announced that she had also died.

I went to work at 12.00, positioned myself in the cookware section of the shop due to it having a radio, and kept the news on, informing assorted unaware customers that yes, what they were hearing was true. At the time, we were selling cut-out Diana postcards, so I had them removed from display.

Being a bit of a news junkie in any case, I was caught up in the media whirl surrounding the event, as the feeding frenzy reached saturation point. And here's the really shameful part: on the Wednesday or Thursday, I don't remember which, I headed into town after work, spent over two hours queuing at Glasgow City Chambers, and signed a book of condolence.

I know, I know, horrific behaviour, I don't know what I was thinking. Luckily, that seemed to shake me out of it. It may have been reading the preceding messages that did it, every last one an overly sentimental paean addressed to a dead person who would never see it. Maybe it was the horrible pressure put on the Royals for their evil transgression of not being media whores who exploit emotion for their own dubious reasons. Maybe it was repeated exposure to Tony Blair's "people's princess" speech. Or perhaps it was the many re-showings of that godawful Martin Bashir interview with the vacant, manipulative tart in bambi eyeliner that did the trick. Whatever, by the time the funeral took place, I was back into my default, cynical misanthrope state of mind.
And for that I am truly grateful.

As long as I get to be Camus, not Sartre

You scored as Existentialism, Your life is guided by the concept of Existentialism: You choose the meaning and purpose of your life. “Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.” “It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.” --Jean-Paul Sartre “It is man's natural sickness to believe that he possesses the Truth.” --Blaise Pascal Existentialism 70% Utilitarianism 55% Hedonism 50% Justice (Fairness) 50% Kantianism 35% Apathy 5% Strong Egoism 5% Nihilism 5% Divine Command 0% What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03) created with QuizFarm.com

Snap!

I was round my mum's house on Friday, and, due to a severe lack of anything better to do, we ended up watching America's Got Talent. I avoided the British version due to an aversion to circus tricks, "cute" kids and performing animals. The lucky Americans appear to be similarly afflicted (with an added dose of annoying warbling singers), but there was one stand-out highlight that had us in stitches - Bobby Badfingers.

The world's only professional snappist (there's not more competition in the field? Well whoda thunk it?), Mr Badfingers dresses like a refugee from the early eighties, does a bit of dodgy dancing, and snaps his fingers in a maniacal style. The man's a star. And there's more of him right here.

I Can't Go Back To Savoury Now - John Shuttleworth

He's right you know, you can't

"Betsie dull", say Amazon

Good old Amazon and their recommendations. They sent me an e-mail today in the belief that I'd be interested in this:

The Role of Elites in the Spanish Transition to Democracy (1975-1981): Motors of Change?
Christopher Hill
Synopsis
This study seeks to analyze the influence of individuals in democratic transitions, using Spain as a case study and examining, in particular, the role of elite actors in the process. This study should appeal to scholars interested in political science, history, and Hispanic studies. This book seeks to analyze the specific role elite actors played in the process of Spain's democratic transition, thereby demonstrating the influence of individuals in creating political change. Though utilizing Spain as a case study, the nature of the analysis allows for the findings to be applied to democratic transitions as a general political process and not simply constrained to the example in question.

Sound riveting, no? And an absolute bargain at a mere £71.94. I'll have two please!

In other news...

Isn't that Andrew Collins a lovely chap?

And Grace Dent rocks :)

Perth: the world's most thrilling town

Here's the big news in town today, as reported in the Dundeh Courier

A Perth man was arrested after he was caught feeding the birds—wearing nothing but a back-to-front thong.

Little was left to the imagination of shocked onlookers close to David Batchelor’s home in the Muirton area of the city last month.

They promptly called the police and the 58-year-old has now admitted a charge of breaching the peace.

Batchelor admits that on June 7 he conducted himself in a disorderly manner by repeatedly and indecently walking between the common close of 64 Carnegie Place and the public street while wearing only a thong as clothing.

The charge states that, as the thong was on the wrong way round, his private parts were exposed and he thereby committed a breach of the peace.

Batchelor is set to be sentenced at Perth Sheriff Court on August 22.

My, the fun just never stops around here...

Bravo!

Many thanks to Talent in a Previous Life for giving a blow-by-blow account of yesterday's Live Earth concert shenanigans - courageously sitting through an abundance of interminably dull bollocks so the rest of us didn't have to. People get medals for less, you know.

Here we go again

It's 6.52am.
The sun is shining.
And I'm wide awake.
Bastard fucking insomnia, how I hate you so.

And I can't give the fucking post a title.
Great...

What the internet was invented for

RIP George Melly

One hell of a chap

And the prize for most ridiculous spam subject header of the day goes to...

"Freddy Kruger wears Rolex"

Well, that's me sold

Over-reactions and crappy bombers R Us

I've just been informed by the BBC six o'clock new on telly that this image:



"haunts Scotland: terrorism smashing into people's lives" (you can see the report in question here, though I suspect it'll only work in the UK (thanks to the unique way the BBC is funded etc etc))

Does it fuck! It's a car smashing into a window and setting the driver on fire, no need to exaggerate, for god's sake. Mind you, the vaguest hint of "turrrism" and common sense seems to fly out the window. Apparently Scotland has "changed" now, we're all deeply affected by the weekend's events. Well sure, it inconvenienced people at Glasgow Airport, in the street in Houston where the suspects live, and workers and visitors to the Royal Alexandra Hospital where one suspect works and the other is being treated. Everywhere else is very much business as usual.

Another bit of nonsense I've heard repeated on various news reports since is a claim that the vehicle itself shouldn't have been able to get so close to the airport building in the first place. Well, that would be pretty simple actually. Have a look at the photo below. The road closest to the building is supposedly only open to public transport. The road to the front of the picture is the official drop off point. There aren't barriers between the two areas, so anyone with half a mind to get across would merely have to mount the pavement. Not exactly a huge task. Though, after getting that far, the best you could possibly hope for was to get far enough into the building to reach some usually unoccupied airline help desks. That'll bring the infidels to their knees...



It was all a bit pathetic, frankly, as were the London car bombs. Apparently, the suspects were already being watched, so that may have lead them to rush their plans. That would explain the somewhat shoddy nature of the attacks. I almost hope so for their sakes; how embarrassing must it be to set yourself up as a heroic suicide bomber and then fail so spectacularly?

British terrorists really are an unimaginative lot. There are many, many towns in the UK with perfectly acceptable targets, and yet they largely concentrate on London. Spread the fear, dammit! Choose a target the police wouldn't work out you'd be going for! There are plenty of public buildings in our cities that would be easier to attack due the complete lack of any security (I used to walk around Glasgow back in the day, seeing how far I could get into places I shouldn't have been, just for the hell of it. Well, it's something to do...). If you can't think of anything yourselves, take some lessons from the IRA! They did quite well on the bombing things front.

Sheesh...


An unrelated aside: I do rather like the fact that Auntie Beeb has this as one of the top stories on the website. Good to see proper news values aren't completely dead...
(And that Doctor Who post will be along just as soon as I work out whether the last episode was irredeemably shit, or just a little bit shit)

Out, out damn thought!

So, those vivid dreams then...

Last night I dreamt that I was reunited with my estranged father. And then I discovered he had a fetish for stripping naked and wanking in wardrobes, after catching him in the act.

Thanks for that, brain, thank you ever so...

A brief update

My, it's been a while, hasn't it?

So I've been on the new medication for over a fortnight now. This two pills a day malarkey is a bit complicated for the feeble-brained. Or, to be a bit more accurate, the idea of taking one in the morning when you rarely see the AM doesn't quite work.

Just to totally break with tradition, I can't sleep. They put me on medication that's supposed to knock me out, and it still doesn't do it. It's not the first time that's happened, mind. Back in my pre-medicated days, I tried assorted herbal concoctions, none of which were effective. I do all the sensible gubbins that you're meant to (with the exception of getting lots of exercise, naturally. That's not so good when you're a fat fuck who dies of exhaustion after about fifteen minutes or so of exertion) but my damn mind still doesn't co-operate.

I've been prescribed assorted antihistamine-type products which, while meaning you can skip gaily through a pollen-loaded park, make no difference whatsoever at sleepy-bye-bye time. Tranquilisers seem to have no effect on me at all (I'd have been as well selling them really). The last drug was supposed to be good for sleep, and while it vaguely helped with that for a couple of months or so (especially combined with booze - no, you're not meant to do that - when it did actually knock me out), it then wore off completely.
So I really shouldn't be surprised that I still manage to stay wide awake with my shiny new pills. Once I do finally nod off though, getting up again is a real struggle. I'd happily stay in bed all day, in a vague attempt to quell my exhaustion (yes I know, perpetuating the cycle and all that stuff).

One positive though; I'm starting to get the marvellous vivid dreams which were the only good thing about effexor. Now if only i could actually remember them, ye olde blogge might actually be vaguely entertaining (I've had a good twenty or so posting ideas which didn't come to fruition, due to my out-of-kilter brain struggling to cope with the prospect. There's some other writing I really need to get around to as well, so I could do with a little bit of clear-headedness, if you don't mind, brain)

Also on the plus side, I've lost half a stone in weight already. Well, thank fuck for that, It'd be rather nice to fit in my clothes again, and be able to look at a reflective surface without keeling over in horror. I'm very much enjoying my new, reduced appetite. And I'm hoping that my cream cake fetish days are now over (I never even liked them before the evil mirtazapine got hold of me - see kids, drugs really are bad). I've contemplated taking a photographic record of my disappearing lardiness, but the less evidence remaining of Fat Betsie the better, frankly.

If I can summon the will and brainpower, there will be a eulogy on the subject of Doctor Who and it's all-conquering greatness headed this way soon. There, I've said I'll do it, now I have to :)

I Wanna Be Sedated

I went to see the psychiatrist today.

So, farewell then, fizzy orange mirtazapine, you singularly failed to do your job and instead gave me a terrible toasted cheese and sugar habit (not together, I hasten to add). Turns out it does that to everyone.

I've had enough bad experiences with medication by now to know that it pays to know what you're getting into. It's helpful to know that the side effects are just that, and you're not actually going insane. Having said that, reading a site like this should come with a health warning all of it's very own. Naturally those worst effected by a medication tend to be the most vocal in discussions as to it's efficacy. There's a heap load of negativity there, but then much of it comes from a. people who tried it for a few days then quit (side effects are normally at their worst for the first fortnight or so before settling down) b. people for whom this is their first experience of being medicated (at this point in my life, I don't need to know that it's better/worse than not taking anything at all. That's not an option for me) c. people who decide without a doctor's advise to come off an SSRI cold turkey then tell you what a nightmare it was. Well, duh...

So what do I have to look forward to this time? Well for starters, I get to be like Judy Garland on the MGM lot, taking my uppers to get up and go, and my downers to calm me right back down again and take me to the Land of Nod. Hurrah!

It could have been worse, lithium was briefly mooted before being swiftly batted away (there's kidney and thyroid problems in the family, I'd be seriously chancing it on that stuff. Oh and have I mentioned how jealous I am of those lucky bipolar people? They don't know they're born, with their periods of intense creativity and activity. They're the glamorous out-of-town cousin to the dowdy housewife of the boring old depressive).

So with my morning pill, I could end up with:
headache, nausea, dry mouth, sweating, sleepiness or insomnia, diarrhea or constipation, weight gain, loss of libido

Any for the night-time one:
sleepiness, headache, sleepiness, dizziness, sleepiness, nausea, sleepiness, dry mouth, sleepiness, blurry vision, sleepiness, sweating, sleepiness, insomnia or sleepiness, diarrhea or constipation, and did I mention you'll be tired?
With a possibility of:
Low blood pressure, weight gain. General cardiac weirdness, vivid or unusual dreams.

Just the usual then. I'm looking forward to the dreams actually, that's about the only thing I miss about the dreaded Effexor. I certainly don't miss the randomly-falling-over habit which I choose to ascribe to it and not to my general uselessness, nor do I miss it's insanely short half-life (meaning that you start getting withdrawal symptoms by the time you go to take your next pill. And if you miss a day, that's your brain fried).

Right, I'm off to cut a pill in half.

Over and out.

Powered by ScribeFire.

So...

..what's Lou Reed doing in the Big Brother house?

Thank me for the music

I don't normally do this, but there's a song that I feel the need to share with the world. It's Reparata (of and the Delrons fame) and Shoes.

Enjoy.

You know you've been watching too much Peep Show when...

..you begin to hear your own internal monologues in the voice of Robert Webb. That's insanitywang!

In backwater media news, my local twice-weekly paper has a special "cute kids" 8-page supplement in today's edition. I'm not sure what's more surprising about this: that the age-old "beautiful baby" contest is apparently alive and well in the 21st century; that there isn't an outraged campaign by some local nutjob or other against the publication of a "paedophile's shopping list" (that I know of, anyway. Maybe I should start one. Won't somebody think of the children (but not in that way)?); or that the circulation is so low that guaranteed sales to the doting relatives of the 127 brats featured makes this a worthwhile endeavour. Actually, I can believe that one quite easily, come to think of it.

There was also a letter in the ever-fascinating "Write to reply" section that confused me somewhat. Maybe you can decipher it, dear reader

Dear Editor, - Michael Gallagher (PA, May 18) suggests that God may know what happens to the waste councils send to China.
With his green credentials, one tends to think he may prefer a female deity to invoke.
Let's hope this female deity helps us solve our planet's problems.
Name and addressed supplied

The correspondent is replying to a letter claiming that there was no point in utilising the local council's recycling facilities as some waste is shipped to China for processing - there's another reply from a councillor refuting the claims. Quite what the author is trying to say, though, is anyone's guess. I think it's attempting to be an insult, but the delivery is so garbled I really can't be sure. It no doubt sounded great in the author's head. Can't hear Robert Webb saying it though...

The Day Today as documentary

I was going to do a post on the media reaction to the Madeleine McCann abduction case, but Andrew Collins says it all really.
It's a strange world where one missing child elicits incredibly awkward appeals by international footballers, other players donning wristbands, and a multitude of celebrities jumping on the "look at me, I really care" bandwagon.
And I wonder if Gordon Brown will be offering his services to the many thousands of other families in the UK with missing persons?

I for one welcome our new Serbian overlords

It's that time again, the annual cheesefest that is the Eurovision Song Contest. And courtesy of the BBC website, here's my score card





Well, a crappy overwritten version anyway (damn you printer and your no ink left status). So the official Betsie verdict gives victory this year to Ukraine. With the UK's Scooch honourable runners-up. Naturally I'm not actually going to waste money voting, I'm not completely insane.

So back to the TV for me, to enjoy Terry Wogan's increasing drunken exasperation with the usual regional bias in the voting. Fun fun fun....


Edit: Bah, the Ukraine were robbed. Title changed to reflect the reality :)

Apparently Siralan's Apprentices have never heard of the concept of doing a google search...

Bugger

So I snip the top off the carton of soup and put it in the microwave for three minutes as stated. Summoned back to the kitchen by the magic "ping", I open the microwave door to be greeted by a tipped-over packet, a sea of spilled soup and approximately two mouthfuls of salvageable dinner. Great....

pull yourself together girl...

I'm not IMDB. Gutted...

Which Website are You?

Is it too late to claim the cash, do you think?

(click for bigger pic)

Fuck off, Gretna


(Yes, I know, they are fucking off. To the SPL. Bastards)

Best tour name ever...

The Decemberists' newly announced European tour in what those American types refer to as "the fall" (over here, that involves a grouchy old geezer firing his band members every five-uh minutes-uh), is being called "A Great Smiting of Chavs". Marvellous...

"is it something about history?" *

So I've dragged my weary bones reluctantly into the 21st century, and I can now be found on myspace. I'm only there for the Urusei Yatsura track, honest...







Edit 12.44am 26/4/07: So the post title is meant to be a quote from Friday's Peep Show. Only I've just watched the repeat and it should have been "is it something to do with history?"(one of the few lines that tickled my fancy in a largely disappointing episode, as it happens) Buggeration. Silly me and my not-quoting-accurately-ness.

Sold!

Today, I have been mainly looking at vintage advertising at Plan59 and fruit-related sister site Box of Apples

They don't make them like that any more

I'm listening to BBC7 just now (quelle surprise), an adaptation of Dorothy L Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey stories. There's an actress in the cast by the name of Ambrosine Philpotts.



Ambrosine Philpotts



Magnificent, isn't it? A moniker fit for a PG Wodehouse character, so quintessentially English, yet faintly outlandish is it.



Ambrosine Philpotts.



It seems she's been in a few films, including Expresso Bongo, which, despite starring Cliff Richard, is actually jolly good.



Ambrosine Philpotts

Powered by ScribeFire.

What the fuck, part 2451

So I just got home and switched on the TV, only to see some numpties on the screen going on about "local laws for local people", blaming UK Post Office closures on the EU (erm, how, exactly?), and wanting to have elected police officials. Turns out it was a Party Election Broadcast for the Scottish wing of the UK Independence Party, that charming bunch of xenophobes. Oh no, silly me, they're a "libertarian, non-racist party seeking Britain's withdrawal from the European Union". Because, obviously, a political party has to explicitly state it's opposition to racism, that's not just a given. They're at pains to show how inclusive and mainstream they are - from their party history:

In order to protect the party from infiltration by extremists, all party members must sign a membership form supporting the party's principles, which must also be respected by conference. All prospective candidates and constituency office bearers must sign declarations confirming that they have no criminal record and no previous association with extremist political groups of right and left

Now, why would extremists seek to join them? Couldn't be anything to do with their policies and aims, could it? No, of course not, they don't hate foreigners. Just those pesky Eurocrats.

Make your mind up...

There's some conflicting advice on my 3 litre super-bargain cheap as chips supermarket own-label cider.

On the one hand:

Consume within 48 hours of opening

On the other:

Please drink responsibly

Okay then...

Rainy days and Carpenters songs always make me cry*

Sense prevails

Or perhaps not...

From that last one:

This is not the nation celebrated in its own mythology and the imagination of much of the outside world. Now apparently, we, the British, are prepared to betray our traditions, truth, duty, dignity, decency and ourselves. It seems that since we no longer recognise the concept of honour, we no longer have any shame. We think it is fine to say anything to save our skins. To be subjected to unpleasantness is unbearable, even if we have chosen the profession of a fighting man or woman. Emotional experience, of whatever kind and however tawdry, is turned into vicarious entertainment for the populace.

Someone send that man a collection of First World War poetry and then see if he's so keen on Honour Above All.





*There's a documentary about The Carpenters on TV as I type. I'm okay so far, they haven't got to Rainy Days and Mondays yet...

Happy Easter

(more here)

Copycat

Bloody Tony Blair, jumping on my bandwagon...

Powered by ScribeFire.

And finally...

Rounding off YouTube Week, we have a small clip from series one of Peep Show.

There a piece in the Guardian Guide by writers Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong, and there's more on the show here. The new series starts on Friday.

Plucky underdogs do it again

For a nation of only 5 million or so, Scotland packs a fair punch when it comes to music. Here are a few of the best.

The Rezillos - My Baby Does Good Sculptures.

Josef K - Sorry For Laughing

The Associates - White Car In Germany
I was very very very pleased to find this one...

Altered Images - I Could Be Happy

Orange Juice - Rip It Up

Aztec Camera - Oblivious

Strawberry Switchblade - Since Yesterday

The Blue Nile - Headlights On The Parade

The Proclaimers - I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)
This is the proper version, mercifully free of "comedy" "characters"

Teenage Fanclub - The Concept
Not their best song by a long shot, but included for sentimental reasons - back when I were a lass, this was one of my three regular plays on the Student Union jukebox (the other two being The Breeders - Cannonball and Nirvana - Polly, fact fans)

The Yummy Fur - Theme From Ultrabra
There's a Yummy Fur presence on YouTube. Colour me amazed.

Lung Leg - Punk Pop Travesty
There's a Lung Leg presence on YouTube. Colour me amazed-er.

Arab Strap - The First Big Weekend
Footage from their last ever show.

Belle and Sebastian - Lazy Line Painter Jane
With added Monica Queen

The Delgados - American Trilogy
More bands should be named after cyclists.

Aberfeldy - Tom Weir
The man in question.

Camera Obscura - Lloyd I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken

Just received the latest mailing from the evil people at Ticketmaster -

"Don't miss Pink - standing"

I'm looking forward to the next batch now:

"Don't miss Westlife - sitting on stools till the key change"

"Don't miss Amy Winehouse - propping up the bar"

and of course

"Don't miss Elton John - still standing after all these years"

La Belle France

So, the 1960s.
An explosion of bands from Liverpool.
Swinging London and Carnaby Street.

Me, I'd rather have been in France.

Jacques Dutronc:
Les Playboys

Les Cactus

Francoise Hardy:
Il Est Des Choses

Ma Jeunesse Fout Le Camp

Hardy and Dutronc together

And of course, the Grand Master himself, Serge Gainsbourg:
Manon

Bonnie and Clyde (with Brigitte Bardot)

Fabulous Absolutely

YouTubery

As it seems to be YouTube Week, I may as well continue with the theme...

For your viewing delectation, I most humbly present Mr Stephen Fry and Mr Hugh Laurie in some excerpts from their BBC show A Bit of Fry and Laurie

And for a change of pace, I bring you Mr Stewart Lee and Mr Richard Herring in some clips from their BBC show Fist of Fun

This one features Mr Peter Baynham, who you may remember from such comedy writing as The Day Today, The Harpoon, I'm Alan Partridge, and Borat

Bringing us full circle with a little reference to Mr Fry there...
(And here's some background on the Patrick Marber baiting)

Alanis Morissette in "sense of humour" shocker

Disappointed

From an article here:

Concern has been raised for the wellbeing of a former mental health patient who has been selected as a contestant for The Apprentice.

Jadine Johnson, 27, has reportedly been cleared to take part in the reality show alongside 15 other high-flyers for the chance to win a £100,000 job working for Sir Alan Sugar.

But the senior financial advisor from Middlesex, who hopes the programme will win her a “real life,” was sectioned under the Mental Health Act four years ago, The Sun reported.

The concern from charities is compounded because the third series will offer the “most gruelling and punishing tasks yet” the Amstrad chairman told the BBC yesterday.

Yet the corporation is said to have dismissed the alarm, saying each contestant has been screened to ensure their suitability for the 12-week show, dubbed the “job interview from hell.”

The reassurance hasn’t silenced one mental health charity, which has demanded more scrutiny than just an initial screening.

A MIND spokesperson reportedly said: “We would want to ensure that proper psychiatric assessments are carried out on the show.”

Friends of Ms Johnson have apparently added their concern, saying they are “worried” for the single Mum from Harrow, following a “nasty experience” in her previous employment.

Several points spring to mind. Number one, the lack of candidate screening is of no surprise to anyone who has watched any reality TV. That's pretty much par for the course when the aim is to find "characters" - concerns for what causes the outrageous to act as they do will always be secondary to the little light in the producers' eyes as they imagine the headlines that could be generated.

More importantly, though, the swiftness of mental health charities to chime in somewhat disappoints me. I'd have liked to see a quote from MIND that went something like this:

"We welcome the participation of Ms Johnson in a high-profile show like The Apprentice, and, in a world in which one in four of us will face mental ill-health at some point in our lives, we see her inclusion as a sign that the stigma attached to such conditions is fading. Ms Johnson serves as an example that people can recover from their illness and be a positive and successful part of the modern work-force, and we wish her every success."

That would be rather more helpful to everyone who knows that admitting to mental health issues is a surefire way to fast-track your job application into the waste-paper basket. There's no mention as yet of this story on their website, so perhaps the full statement was rather more encouraging and supportive. I certainly hope so.

I still reserve the right to call Ms Johnson a nutter at a later point in the series if need be, by the way. Takes one to know one and all that...

powered by performancing firefox

Minor Gripe

Dear Auntie Beeb,

Please please please desist with your annoying habit of starting Doctor Who earlier than the advertised broadcast time.
As I was already aware of this quirk, I tuned in this evening at 6.57pm, three minutes ahead of when it was due to start, but, alas, I wasn't early enough.
I'd rather not have to sit through most of whatever crappy light entertainment bollocks precedes it in order to avoid a truncated viewing experience, so stop misbehaving.

Yours,
A License fee payer

p.s. If you could ask David Tennant to turn down the gurning a notch, I'd appreciate that too.

powered by Performancing firefox

Songs for Europe

Eurovision beckons once more, and the UK 's entry seems awfully familiar. And not just because Scooch were basically the Tesco Value Steps.
This is Scooch performing their Song of Europe winning Flying The Flag

And this is the opening credits to the sadly short-lived Scottish sitcom The High Life

The High Life was written by and starring Forbes Masson and Alan Cumming (before he buggered off to Hollywood and Broadway). Coincidentally, in one episode, the boys tried to become Scotland's Song For Europe entry with the fabulously-named Pif Paf Pof

And on a "comedy shows do Eurovision" theme, this is a pretty good excuse to revisit the unparalleled genius of Father Ted. Neil Hannon's finest hour, it's My Lovely Horse

Ooh, dilemma

What to watch - the second half of Italy v Scotland, or the new series of The Apprentice? Tough one...



Edit: The Apprentice won out, it being pretty clear by that stage how the game would end. In a rather good review over here, Andrew Collins describes the first candidate to be fired, Andy Jackson, as looking "like Frank Sidebottom without wearing a papier mache head". I'll let you be the judge:










Uncanny, isn't it?
While I'm vaguely on the subject, I shall miss his badinage with Richard Herring now that Mr Collings has departed from 6Music. The station's getting a bit too samey for my liking, too fixated on corporate identity and other such things which matter not a jot when you just want to hear interesting people playing good tunes on the wireless. Ah well, I'll just listen to yet more BBC7 instead. Old comedy shows and dramas rock! (well, some of 'em creak a little, truth be told)

Gerry and Ian. sitting in a tree...

powered by performancing firefox

Show Me The Funny

Family Guy: never knowingly amusing

I like The Simpsons. I like South Park. I like King of the Hill. Even American Dad can occasionally prove intermittently amusing. But Family Guy? People like this? Really? They laugh? What at? Unpleasant characters, dull storylines, endless pointless and stultifyingly unfunny cutaways - it's hideous, just hideous...

It's a family affair

So, as the self-appointed family historian, I've been working on the family tree for a few years now. Some lines are easier than others (the McKennas refuse to reveal their whereabouts prior to 1919, whereas unlikely as it may seem, my Smiths were an absolute dream). I've got notes scattered across about eight different notepads, a growing collection of certificates and census results downloaded from Scotland's People, and at least some of it compiled in my favourite of the many genealogical programs catering for the increasing interest in family origins.

I do, however, have a problem. A while ago, the PC had a hissy fit and needed a complete reboot (it's since been upgraded - well, in a did-it-myself-cobbled-together kind of way, anyway). Naturally, I hadn't backed up the family tree stuff beforehand, so months of work went swiftly down the drain. I'm only just starting to get into it all again, and I've found a little anomaly.

My great-grandfather was a chap named Peter Milne Tough. His parents were John Tough and Mary Pringle Smith, and I have details of their marriage, and her family quite a few generations back. I also have a copy of John Tough's parents' wedding certificate, and some details on the Milne line. However, somewhere along the line, I've also acquired details of another John Tough, born at about the same time. This one was born to a Robert Tough and Ann Ledingham, so, unless the details on John's own wedding day were incorrect (it's not unheard of - I have a black sheep in one line who was being declared dead to census-takers before his time, and whose name is mysteriously replaced or omitted in later years. He worked as a billiard marker, which in the edition of the BBC's genealogy show "Who Do You Think You Are" featuring Jane Horrocks, was explained to be a somewhat disreputable profession. I think there must be more to it than that though; if no nefarious goings-on come to light I'll be a little disappointed), this lot are nothing to do with my family.

Naturally, there's no explanation anywhere in my notes: the names just appear from nowhere, with no explanation of where exactly they are meant to fit. I can only assume that a rogue IGI search turned up a possible birth for my John Tough, and I pursued it to the extent of paying for documentation without stopping to think a little first. Most unlike me, I must say. The moral of the story is - always take clear notes, explain who the hell the people mentioned are, and don't go using up precious credits on Scotland's People before you're sure that the name is the right one. And of course, back up your work. Almost forgot that one. Again.

Addendum: if, by chance, a reader has links to anyone named Johnstone Little, either in Paisley in Renfrewshire, in Dublin, or in Canada, please get in touch, you just found yourself a relation.

Dear Mr Spammer

Congratulations on coming up with the e-mail subject most likely to lead to instant deletion - "James Blunt's Smash Hit"? I think not, my friend...

The best man won

Channel 4. Sunday. Another Pointless List Show.

This one was the 100 Greatest Stand-ups. The list in full is here, and the top ten was as follows:

1. Billy Connolly
2. Peter Kay
3. Eddie Izzard
4. Richard Pryor
5. Harry Hill
6. Bill Hicks
7. Bill Bailey
8. Victoria Wood
9. Chris Rock
10. Ross Noble


The peculiar love of the British public for Peter Kay flummoxes me somewhat, but as least taste and decency triumphed with the anointing of Saint Billy of ComedyBeards.

The ones that got away

There's an article in today's Guardian detailing the books which British adults have failed to finish reading. Amongst their ranks are such worthy tomes as the fourth Harry Potter book, David Blunkett's memoirs and Celebrity Racist Jade Goody's autobiography. Being neither a child nor an idiot, my own list is a little bit different.
There are the books which have been hiding at the back of a bookshelf for years, as yet unopened (Messrs Proust and James, pay attention at the back). There's the "never going to read" gang (Dickens and Melville spring to mind), and there's a few where a cursory glance confirmed that I would not be disturbing the contents any further (Mr Joyce, take your Ulysses and shove it where the sun don't shine; Mr Tolkein, I don't "do" elves thanks very much).
And then there's the poor souls who were abandoned somewhere mid-journey.


Leo Tolstoy - Anna Karenina

I made it past the 250 page mark with Anna Karenina, but it suffered from my habit of having multiple books on the go at any one time. I didn't much care for the main characters in any case, so when unnecessarily convoluted descriptions of Russian farming equipment made an appearance, it went back on the bookshelf.. Doesn't bode too well for War and Peace, frankly, with this supposedly being the simpler of the two.

Jack Kerouac - On The Road

Call me an old fuddy-duddy, but I'd rather read some well-crafted prose, where the author has painstakingly chosen every word for maximum impact. There is power in concision and precision. But try telling that to Mr Keroauc and his "oh look at us, we're so rebellious and free with our doing exactly what every generation before us did but with worse haircuts and more verbiage" friends. Bollocks, the lot of 'em.

James Kelman - A Chancer

I tried, god knows I tried. For those not in the know, James Kelman conveys the gritty reality of working-class Glasgow by eschewing the use of punctuation. I've started this book about ten times, but it's just too painful.

James Ellroy - American Tabloid

I've not given up on this yet. There was just too much information coming at me at once in the opening chapters, next time I'm taking notes...

Annie Proulx - The Shipping News

I was getting along just fine with this one, and reasonably enjoying it, and then I just.... stopped. I blame Kevin Spacey.

F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Great Gatsby

I should like this book. I love the 1920s. I think Fitzgerald himself was a fascinating person, though less so than his formidable wife. I should be able to connect with the writing, and finally finish reading it, but something just won't let me. I really don't get it.

Danny Wallace - Yes Man

Now with this, on the other hand, I know exactly what the problem is. Had this not been a Christmas present, it would not be taking up space in my house. For starters, there are the glowing testimonials: Davina McCall declares "The man's a genius". Richard Madeley tells us "This book is a treat". Then of course, there's the fact that I've seen the guy on TV and been thoroughly underwhelmed. But hey! It's a life-affirming tale of positivity! Written in a painfully convoluted, childish fashion, with every gag stretched out for a good two pages more than it can possibly stand, each new paragraph revealing more layers of smug hatefulness until I just want to get a big knife and stab stab stab Mr Wallace through his self-satisfied little heart. But he's not there, so I just throw the book across the room instead.

Antonia Fraser - Mary Queen of Scots

This seemed like a good bet. Before she got her head chopped off, Mary Queen of Scots had a eventful and dramatic life, rich in material for a biography. But while this is well enough crafted, the writer herself leaves me cold. Unfortunately I had already bought another two hefty tomes (one of them a biography of Marie Antoinette) by the same author before I made that discovery. I can always dip into them when need be, but I won't be reading them from cover to cover.

And finally, a special case: the book I did read, but wish that I hadn't:

Ernest Hemingway - The Old Man and the Sea

Or as I like to call it, "I read The Old Man and the Sea, and all I got was this lousy allegory". My heroine, Dorothy Parker, said that Hemingway "has an unerring sense of selection. He discards details with a magnificent lavishness; he keeps his words to their short path"*. By that criterion, I should be a big fan. I don't like to disappoint Dotty P if I can help it. However, this particular work, while only around 100 pages long, feels much, much longer. Maybe it's just too concise, perhaps it's the load which each phrase is made to carry that makes it such hard work. Or maybe its me.




Nah....

*From a review of "Men Without Women", published in The New Yorker, October 29th, 1927