Big n juicy

This little fella came to see me today - what a charming little chap.
Resplendent and handsome. A welcome visitor to my garden. I love it when nature coordinates with my web site.

Boozy bollocks?
I read somewhere recently that alcohol supresses testosterone production.
This is worrying news and could account for my increasing niceness.
I'm off now to buy a few beers.

Hit me baby
Strange - record number of hits yesterday - on a Sunday too - what can this mean?
Also been getting some very interesting search hits but you don't want to know about them do you now?

I'm so unworthy
Top on my list of things to do this year is a visit to Clarence House which is currently nearing completion of a multi million pound refurbishment in preparation for the arrival of the Prince of Wales, Mistress and sons. The refurbishment has been funded to the tune of £1.928 million by virtue of grant aid from the Department for Culture, Media and Sport. This equates to about 6p for every UK tax payer.

How grateful I am to learn that it will only cost me a further £5 for the privilege of seeing the square millimetre I have paid for through taxation - joy indeed.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:24 PM

lol
"Cousin Betty lived on a farm, died her hair black and wore a black bra under a lemon yellow twinset. Her bussom was enormous and encased in an industrial strength brassiere - everything pointed outwards and in total control. She clattered around the farmyard in black stillettos, calfs clenched."

Harriet goes all darling buds

"Learn to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries,
imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty or the gesture of fish. "

er right - these nekkid people are getting GM groovy

The comments sometimes work if you reload the page - sigh

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 2:18 PM

There are at least two topics you're unlikely to find on here much at present. One is a certain TV prog involving hidden cameras the other is a certain TV prog involving hidden cameras, tennis balls and lots of green things. Both TV progs induce feelings of near death when I happen to stumble on them. I feel my life force ebbing away and my brain taking on the consistency of a soft poached egg. [ how disgusting an image is that? ] Only a certain televised game involving hidden cameras, coloured balls and lots of spotty young men holds less viewer appeal for me than the aforementioned gruesome twosome. Truly I will know I have gone gaga when I find myself watching any of these with a modicum of interest. So it was with immense pleasure that I read the brilliant 'Jim Shelley's world of sport' in today's Guardian Guide. I've tried to find a web link for this but failed so I'm reduced to typing sections of it for your edification.

"Tennis as a sport is bad/boring enough, but there's also the BBC's coverage of Wimbledon as a whole - smothered in that cloying middle-class/middle England/middle-of-the-afternoon-on-a-sunny-day smugness."

"Here are the...worst."
"The bits where it rains and the Beeb produces one of it's trademark soppy montages featuring music by Coldplay or Bobby Gentry and old clips of Cliff Richard 'entertaining'/punishing the crowd by singing"

"The bit where the Duke and Duchess of Kent (write your own Cockney rhyming slang) greet the ball boys. 'A wonderful moment,' John Barrett will purr."

"the excruciatingly earnest 'Rain Stopped Play' discussions led by Sue Barker. For example a)why aren't there any good young British players coming through? (Answer: because it's always raining and schoolkids realise tennis is naff.)...c)Why, apart from the superhuman Williams sisters, don't black people play tennis? (Answer: because they are too cool.)"

"Patronising filler items about The Man Who Trains/Flogs The Ballboys. The People Who Rent Out Their Houses To The Players..and finally, The Exhorbitant Price of Strawberries This Year"

"Mostly though Wimbledon is intolerable because of 'Henman mania'/'Henman Hill'/Henman in general. If ever there was a British sportsman to make you despair of being British, it's Henman: Nice Guy, Nearly Man and Tosser extaordinaire...Take Cliff Richard and cross him with Tony Blair and you get Tim Henman."

Time to take my medication I think.

BnJ scoops the Beeb & The Guardian
Juice power wins out as the BBC report an 'original joke' about Intel's new processor - codenamed 'Prescott'.
Regular readers may recall a jetable du mien back in February.
I rest my case.
[ It's v. heavy - I've just packed it with breeze blocks ]

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:53 AM

You know they're on the ropes when Alistair Campbell - 'the man who never gives interviews' - storms unannounced and uninvited into Channel 4 news and 'offers himself' to be interviewed.
The words 'desperate' and 'liars' come to mind.

Brothers in harm

Thought for the Day: Before you criticise someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticise them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:01 AM

Today I've seem to have mostly been concerned with deadlines.
People asking me when the deadline is.
People forgetting deadlines.
People ignoring deadlines.
Me reminding people about deadlines that are approaching.
Me setting new deadlines for people.
Emails arriving within deadlines - some of them about deadline policies.
Phone calls trying to get me to change deadlines.
People asking me if I can meet deadlines.
People apologising because they've missed deadliness.
People missing deadlines and not apologising.
What is it about deadlines?
Why are we so hung up on them?

Yesterday was the birthday of a person who is very special in my life. I may never see that person again and a part of me is lost because of that. I try not to dwell on the pain I feel but every year on the 25th June I remember in my heart how it used to be. How we used to laugh. How loved I felt and how I loved to be with them - just being not doing. And how I'd like to see them again and how I probably never will. And the time since I last saw them seems like no time and yet it's more than ten years. And they are with me. Still.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:38 PM

So Alistair Campbell was not involved in any sexing up of the dodgy dossier. The whole affair was apparently a complete Horlicks. The dodgy dossier of course was cobbled together from recycled bits of a phD thesis. The dodgy dossier tried to stitch up Saddam who tried to blag his way out of a scrap with the Yanks. No joy - Saddam got his butt kicked and thirteen year old girls can write about it using crap language and half baked opinions filtered through an uncritical media.
Correction: The British Government is not run by thirteen year old girls.

*The other Comical Ali has also been cornered - read the link.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:42 PM

You have many rights. If you're like me you probably don't know what all of them are. I've been unable to track down a definitive list - the beauty of living in a country without a written constitution. What I have uncovered are a few interesting bits for your consideration. Should we have a bill of rights and what might it include?

The right to genetic privacy
The possibility now exists to establish a national genetic database containing the DNA of all citizens. According to the Ministry of Truth around 1.8 million individuals have had samples added to the police National DNA Database since 2000. The aim is to include the entire active criminal population by April 2004. This is likely to number millions of samples and seems at odds with a widely held perception that the vast majority of crime is committed by perhaps 100,000 people. Today's white paper announcement proposes that it will be an offence to test someone's DNA without their consent (except as part of their medical treatment where consent is impossible to obtain, or in the lawful use by police and courts. So does this mean if you get a speeding ticket you can be forced to give a DNA sample? It appears so. Serious consideration has also been given to DNA sampling all newborns . Don't like the sound of this one little bit.

The right to silence
This is not what it used to be. If you are arrested and questioned you 'may harm your defence if you fail to mention anything at the police station which you later rely on in court.' Whereas in the past you could keep schtum without any adverse consequences other than a fractured skull and a thirty stretch for something you didn't do.
Prince Charles will have to learn the value of silence if and when he becomes king. Recent tradition dictates that the monarch has the 'right to be consulted, the right to encourage and the right to warn' - note: this does not include the right to disproportionate influence on matters of monstrous carbuncles.

The right to a new engine
But only if the garage made a hole in your old one.

The right to blog at work
If the 'Today' programme is a barometer of public awareness blogging is an 'interesting' phenomenon which quite a few people either know nothing about or don't understand. Given this it's probably going to be a wee while yet before employers cotton on to why you appear to be so engrossed in your work. All that frenzied typing may well be seen as your unstinting dedication to the mission and not the displacement that is actually your quest for free speech on a paid for basis. Better be sure you know what they could be doing first though.

The right to be naked in public
Walking around at the moment you would be hard pressed to see why this is such a problem for so many. Some people would clearly look far better and be far more comfortable if they were not encumbered by crimplene trousers, nylon tops and viscose thongs. The resultant electrical imbalances too must play havoc with passing aircraft. I would love to throw off my compulsory suit and tie and emerge as nature intended into my workplace - it would be far more comfortable. [ granted it could be risky with all that heavy machinery around ] Vincent Bethell has long campaigned for the right to be naked in public. He appears to do this mainly by stripping off unexpectedly whenever the opportunity arises. On a recent trip north some of the students of St Andrews were clearly convinced. The presence or otherwise of a certain toothy individual is unknown. Public nakedness could have all sorts of unexpected benefits: Greater public health - far less easy to hide that beer belly. Less robbery - people would carry less cash. Dog mess would miraculously get cleared up. You would never have to take your boss seriously again - unless of course they had a gorgeous bod. This could lead to a whole new status issue I suppose - the size of your office would no longer be of prime interest...

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:29 PM

You may recall back on 11th June I proposed a number of new designs for a national flag.
Belatedly I have collatedly [ couldn't resist that ] the results and we have, as Tom O'Connor once said, a tie break situation.
There are 2 votes each for:

The Eastenders design

The cup of tea design

The existing union flag (ie no change - yawn)
All other options received either no votes or 1 vote.
I therefore have the dubious responsibility of deciding the winner from among the 3 two vote contenders. With due gravity I have carefully weighed the pros and cons of all designs and viewpoints expressed and have then chosen the design I wanted anyway. I hereby declare that the new national flag will be:

Having established a suitable flag - tomorrow we will turn to other matters of constitutional import. [bet ye canna wait ;) ]

Globalism
News just in of a worldwide survey conducted by the UN. The only question asked was:
" Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage in the rest of the world?"
The survey was a huge failure.
In much of Africa they didn't know what "food" meant.
In much of Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" meant.
In Western Europe they didn't know what "shortage" meant.
In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant.
In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" meant.
And in the US they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:28 PM

"My grandmother may be slightly apprehensive as to what she's going to wear, and what's going to happen, but she's very much looking forward to it. She's very positive toward the whole thing."

Lush
Radio 3 goes all architectural - what I've been waiting for. Now if only I could get BBC4. sigh

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 2:56 PM

Yay
Dear drD,
Blogger is pleased to announce that for the first time in five months your archives are no longer fucked.
We thought you'd like to know.
Love
blogmonkey no 27

PS - Your editing window doesn't work properly though.

'New blogger - it's lovely and there's a yellow button now'

plug pulled pronto?
Either popbitch was lying about this [ surely not? ] or powergen have spotted the bleedin obvious on their Italian subsidiary domain name.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 2:33 PM

lol
"If there isn't a white boy behind the wheel looking too much like they had a front-end collision with Eminem's wardrobe, it'll most definitely be some spiky-haired asian guy doing his best to bring amime to life. They always leer over into my car and give me the once over as if I'm going to race them in my Hyundai Elantra. Take a hike, Twinkie. And the worse part about all this is that when I see these cars with these guys in them, I can't help thinking, "My condolences on your penis."
Drub gets mobile

"Yes, I'll have the pl3fr9*yk-2J{c on whole-wheat pita, please ... and a side order of your sister's spleen!"
Jodi gets coffee

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 6:46 PM

Really great article today in The Guardian about orang utan intelligence.
"Orang utans have a reputation for being methodical and pensive...have a good memory for abstract information, though their recall strategy is different from humans'. Whereas we organise information by category or association, they seem to use a spatial plan, remembering things according to where they saw them last.
There are around 900 orang utans in captivity worldwide. In the forests of Indonesia, populations are dwindling so fast that the species is predicted to become extinct in the wild by 2020."It astounds me," says Shumaker, "that in my lifetime orang utans could easily disappear, that I've been fortunate to see them in the wild but maybe my 19-month-old son will not."

I've been checking out the Ape Alliance site. Looks to be a good organisation - so I'll make contact and see what, if owt I can do to help.

"Hello blogrelief"
"Hi it's drD here. I understand you can help me with my problem"
"What problem would that be drD?"
"I've got a blockage"
"A blockage. I see. What sort of blockage would that be drD?"
"It's sort of in the middle"
"Aha - a middle blockage. Does it involve existential angst?"
"Er - no I don't think so"
"Any asymptoptic declination tendencies?"
"Sorry you've lost me there
"Right so we're talking simple blockage or complex blockage?"
"Look I was told that you might be able to help me get writing again - I've just been feeling a bit, you know, demotivated"
"Ah - the old demotivated line. Take two of these"
"Two of what"
"These pills that I'm holding up"
"What sort of pills are they?"
"How should I know I'm not a doctor"
"But I am"
"Problem solved" click...

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 1:33 PM

I'm a bit blocked today. Need me some decongestant. Literary laxative. Writers release. A little bit of senacot for the soul. Some creative channelling. I've got a stock of ideas lined up but devoid of devotion to the cause today. Good job I'm not getting paid for this..

Calling all travel consultants
Recommendations puhlease for stopovers on my forthcoming prosepective global circumnavigation.
Boston? LA? Tokyo? Brisbane? Seoul? Calcutta? Tehran? Roundthebend? - where do I go?
You decide..

PS
Apparently you can fly to Italy and back for the same price as the rail ticket to Stanstead. [ So I'm told ]

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:55 PM

My little jaunt down the most expensive street in London the other day lead me to the conclusion that looking clean has a lot to do with glamour. Following this principle it should be possible to affect the appearance of glamour through a bit of judicious loofah action of a morning. Somehow it aint ringing true is it? There must be more to glamour than a well scrubbed epidermis then. Glamour may be indefinable but surely wealth is easier to identify? I started to wonder then how you could recognise if someone was rich - what clues give it away? There are the obvious things like wearing a diamond encrusted tiara, getting out of a supercar that is so unlike any other car there is probably only one of them; or the team of heavyset men with dark glasses surrounding the suspect wad carrier. There may be less obvious signs also: the air of indifference as they pass - unfettered by the cares of scumbagia such as I. The self assurance that comes from knowing you never have to toilet duck the lav or recycle your teabags [ assuming you know what a teabag is of course ]. These might be better giveaways perhaps but there is plenty of evidence to suggest that wealth is not always obvious and someone who appears wealthy may be just be wearing a borrowed tiara whilst someone who appears poor might in fact be seriously loaded and dressing down intentionally. I once had a theory that rich people often had very large bottoms. This, I now realise, is probably not the most reliable indicator. Then I tried to think of the wealthiest people I had ever met and what it was about them that stood out. I would say, that the wealthiest person I've knowingly met is probably David Dimbleby. He is uundoubtedly a millionaire if this is to be believed - but not super rich. What I noticed about him mainly was his ability to turn his 'charm' on and off like a lightbulb depending on who he is talking to. For me it was definitely off and I suspect I barely registered on his consciousness. He had an air of superiority and confidence and his well padded frame - of which he was openly self critical - gave him an air of immovability - like some sort of minor statue lining The Mall. I think, if you didn't know him, you would guess that he 'had money' from his bearing and distant manner. When it comes to seriously rich though my knowledge is far sketchier. I did once stand in a tea queue behind Phil Collins - who is 264th on the Sunday Times Rich list [ with 120 million quid ]. He was as ordinary as ordinary can be - in fact I had him down as 'a bit of a scruffy bugger' until he turned round and I realised who it was. No obviousness there then and maybe that is a sign of being super rich? [ you can't tell ]. The only other rich name I can drop is Paul McCartney [ 29th on the list @ £760m ] - alas I didn't meet him and there aint much you can tell from shuffling sounds heard from inside his dressing room whilst lurking outside the door - that is as close as I dared get - maybe he was counting his money? I'll never know. Macca, though, also plays the ordinary guy to good effect and, despite enormous wonga reserves seems pretty balanced. So maybe the richer you get the more ordinary you become - the less obvious it is. You are not trying to prove anything anymore. So here is a photo I found earlier - you have to decide if he is mega rich or just a bit loaded or maybe not loaded at all.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:05 PM

And so, on Saturday, to the V&A, one of my Most Favourite Places for the much trailed and publicised Art Deco - 1910-1939.

Having seen the Art Nouveau 1890-1914 show three years ago I was preparing for a treat. The internet ticket booking facility worked well - [ even though the 'booking fee' charged for this sort of facility is long overdue for abolition by law]. First impression of the show was the dedicated shop that they've set up to flog the usual overpriced V&A 'gifts' - [ sorry chaps but no way can you justify £59 for a 'resin' (ie plastic) replica art deco panther - much as I want it badly in a completely pointless sort of way ]. Positioning the shop so prominently sends a very clear message about the nature of the show but nonetheless the shop wasn't all that bad - I've been in worse.

When I go to an exhibition like this I adopt a counter-queueing strategy once inside. What is it about Brits? Is there a queueing gene in our DNA? Sad souls patiently lining up to file past glass cases - this is so not the way darling - you need to Swan. Swanning involves a lot of unpredictable movements assembled into a flowing sequence. The aim being to insert yourself into a prime viewing spot before anyone has realised you've 'pushed in' to the stupid queue that shouldn't be there in the first place only they are all too anal by half. Rant over. So there I was swanning my way round the Art Deco show and it was v.nice but strangely unsatisfying. Perhaps I was expecting too much. I have been to see some pretty amazing things in the past few years so maybe I was spoilt for this. It might be more that the objects on display were so glamourous and, rather like that 'cleaner than clean - you don't belong here' Bond Street feeling I described yesterday - I was having trouble identifying with them on any significant level. Thinking about this further - the thing that made most impression on me was a large projection screen with some footage of the black actress Josephine Baker dancing and clowning for the camera. She was having such fun and her great big grin was an infectious and poignant greeting across time and it was moving to watch people grinning back at her ghostly monochromatic image - the power of a smile eh? This seemed to humanise what was otherwise a highly polished show. Art Deco was a truly international style that manifested in many countries across the world and drew on many cultures for it's influences. It was interesting to see echoes of Aztec design along with the early efforts at 'streamlining' of objects that is still so much a part of our visual culture - particularly in automotive design. The 'show stoppers' for me, aside from the Josephine Baker clip were the reconstructed entrance foyer of the Strand Palace Hotel - you feel special just looking at it let alone how it would have been to actually 'make an entrance' through it before it was demolished in the sixties. The streamlining section also had many covetable objects - many of which represented the distinctive American 'take' on Art Deco sometimes known as 'moderne'. Inevitably, architectural representation was compromised - how do you do justice to the Chrysler Building in a twenty foot high gallery? - but the British angle was well covered. Charles Rennie Mackintosh got a look in with a smoking table from the Derngate house being included. My eyes were opened anew to the many Art Deco buildings around London and later in the day I actually noticed The Ideal House on the corner of Argyll Street and Great Marlborough Street, having previously walked past it many times - it, too, featured. The show travels on to Toronto, San Francisco and Boston in due course - interesting to see what others will make of it.

Art Deco is an exquisite show and well worth a visit - I must go back again - maybe when it's cooler, maybe when there are less queuers - maybe wearing a cocktail suit with a waxed moustache. I so need to swan.

PS - The design of the exhibition itself is superb - particularly gallery one - amazing colour schemes - make sure you check it out as you go round ;)

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:19 PM

Yesterday I took a walk down Bond Street, W1. This has to be one of the most glamourous streets in the whole of the UK. Yesterday was a very hot day in London and the vibe in Bond Street was one of subdued elegance. Dark suited men lurked behind firmly locked plate glass shop doors, poised to admit only the Elegant Ones into the expensive emporia beyond. Dainty ladies emerged discreetly from other doorways clutching seriously expensive carrier bags which are always paper with braided cord handles [ no bright orange plastic here ]. Gleaming, open topped Mercedes, Porsche and Maserati sportscars lined the street - the handmade leather upholstery open to the fuggy London air. Not a pawprint to be seen on the shiny crystal dashboard dials or heavily chromed ornamentation - definitely no half eaten packs of Wrigleys Extra or copies of A-Z to be seen littering the parcel shelves for which some poor cows gave their lives. These cars had no drivers. They stood as hugely expensive markers outside hugely expensive shops inside which hugely expensive purchases were being transacted by enormously rich people.

Apart from the glamour, elegance and expensive adornments the other thing that struck me about Bond Street is how clean it is in comparison to much of London. Walk north, right to the top of New Bond Street [ conveniently contiguous with Old Bond Street ] and you hit Oxford Street - the supposed 'High Street of the UK' [ yeah right ]. You almost immediately walk into another world, tacky pavements [ due to an abundance of Wrigleys Extra adhering to same ] lead onto tacky shops where the Men in Suits [ or more likely cargo pants and 'Steps' headsets ] are trying to lure the Bond Street Rejects through the ever open doors into the pulsating interior. Yes, there is a marked difference between Bond Street and Oxford Street and as far as I could tell a lot of this difference is due to the action of H20. Bond Street is clean. It is kept clean - to a very high standard - those Elegant Ones haven't all had sebumectomies - they can do greasy pawprints like the best of us. They drop fag ash [ OK it might be some fancy schmancy fag ash worth 20 quid an ounce or summat but fag ash it is nonetheless ]. There is no air exclusion zone or magnetic aura to repel incontinent pigeons from Bond Street. No the difference is they clean it - and all the time. Glamour is a lot about being clean and being seen to be clean. To appear to be untouched by the grubby realities of human existence to project an image of effortless elegance paradoxically requires enormous crapola-removal-effort by someone and if it isn't going to be you making the effort you're going to have to have enough money to get someone to make the effort for you. The hidden army of people to sustain the glamour of the rich spend a lot of their time eliminating the evidence that the rich do the same things as everyone else on the planet. This is drD's theory for today: the more access you have to water and people to slosh it about for you in all kinds of ways the more glamourous you can appear to be. [ and dont even get me started on colonic irrigation..]

Some kind of Karmic force maybe at work here - for long after the little nugget above coagulated in my brain what should I stumble across but this about 'Sir' Roger Moore going on about his inner guilt, whilst being James Bond, about the poverty and dirt surrounding him. 'Bond' / 'poverty' / 'dirt'. Spooky...

"We're not talking about something down at the DIY store that might collapse after a year or so"
Sunday in the UK is traditionally the day when we like to do a bit of DIY.
It's far too hot for all that I think - but those urges just keep a comin.
How grateful I was, then, for this - ahh relief!

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:12 AM

One is pleased to announce One's Birthday Honours List:

Order of the Juice (OJ)
Mr Ali Bloke-from-the-curry-shop
For services to Simon's stomach and the community

Damehood of the honeypenny (DOH)
Lady Blue of Witch
For services to the financially challenged

Prince of Darkness (PoD)
Michael of Howard
For services to nastiness

Damehood of the Yoorpeen Communiteh (DYC)
Lady Zed Twat of Brussels
For services to Child Psychology

Sirhood of the National Health (SNH)
Sir Diamond of Geezer
For services to London Underground

Sir Simon of Bluetealeaf
For services to tax evasion

Lord of the Dance (LoD)
Mr Tony of the Desert
For services to truth telling

Lordship of the hedgerows (LH)
Lord Chaffinch of Lancashire
For services to the natural world

Lordship of Fresh Fruits (LFF)
Lord Cleophas of Dorset
For services to newsgathering

Viscount of Vespas (VOV)
Viscount Drub of Kansas
For services to skinheads on two continents

Lordship of the Liars (LoL)
Lord Archole of Weston-super-Mare
For services to egotistical lying scumbags

Baroness of the Padded Cell (BPC)
Lady Evil of Port Stanley
For crimes against humanity

Fellowship of the cornrow (FoC)
Brother David of Beckingham
For services to intellectuals

Sistership of the nonentity (SoN)
Sister Jade of Kebabia
For services to thick cows everywhere

Readers may now let off canons.
If you are a child please wave your flag silently.
Pensioners may adulate.
Dogs to yelp enthusiastically.

drD will be attending a formal reception area in an anonymous office block later today.
There will be potted palms in attendance.
Floral tributes by Mr A Titchmarsh. (Cash only)

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:00 PM

An honour and a privilege
Tomorrow, as you know, is One's Official Birthday.
Readers are invited to attend the publication of One's Official Birthday Honours List for which nominations are still being received.
Should you wish to submit a nomination at this late stage kindly do so in the comments receptacle which may be haccessed below.
One thanks you muchly.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 6:31 PM


New Health Secretary: John Reid	New Leader of the Commons: Peter Hain	Lord Falconer heads new Department of Constitutional Affairs

Health Secretary Alan Milburn leaves to make bad records	Lord Chancellor Lord Irvine leaves to wallpaper front room	Scottish Secretary Helen Liddell leaves to be Bonny Tyler

Advance notice:
Saturday is my Official Birthday.
This should not be confused with my actual birthday and is an opportunity for you to wish me good things, let off canons, publish flattering pictures of me and gush a lot.
One thought you would like to know

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:53 PM

Noticed today a story about a proposed new design for the Union Jack by Nigel Turner [ whohe? ].
This is a subtle reworking of the present design which dates from 1801 and includes symbolic allusions to St Patrick, St George and St Andrew. St David does not get a look in. [ I attempt to redress this below* ] The Union Flag itself will be 400 years old in 2006. Mr Turner feels it's time we reflected a more contemporary society in our flag. My view is: why not get radical? So below are my eight proposals for alternative national flags. Please vote for your choice in the comments. Alternatively email me your own proposal and I may consider a guest publication. Should the comments be down [ surely this never happens? ] you can vote by email.

*1		2
3		4
5		6
7		8

I updated my links recently - there are no value judgements or hidden meanings in the changes - just in case you wondered ;)

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 1:37 PM

You're the lady, you're the lady that I love
You're the lady, you're the lady that I love
You're the juicy lady

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

How will Tony go on holiday now?
On Blair Force One of course.
Champagne Prime Minister?

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 5:06 PM

La la la la la la la la
ajuscangechewoutamahed

amgonnaleaveyewa littlecard

yourgonnaphoneusup

weergonnakeepyewww onhold

weergonnalie2yewwww

yooooor nevva gonnaget yooorparcel

oh no ohno

yoko ono

itsincoventry now

farfrom yooooooooo

ha ha ha ha

La la la la la la la la

[ repeat to grave ]

What do you get up to at 6am?
Continuing the photoblog theme from yesterday. BBC Radio 4 Today have a new website and have commissioned Nick Danziger to photograph 'Britain at 6am'. If this first lot are anything to go by should be thought provoking series.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:46 PM

Stunning photographs at Sensitive Light - inspirational.

Birdman gets naked - he was a secret model all along and told nobody.

Bloggerwhinge
Offline for most of the day - incomprehensible error messages - status page last updated several days ago... sigh
Competition time: New slogan for Blogger
No1: Blogger: we're f****d

Name that tune
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
ajuscangechewoutamahedboyurluvinisallithinkabout

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 3:14 AM

Today is the 135th birthday of Charles Rennie Mackintosh - (CRM) - one of my favourite architects and my favourite designer of all time. Mackintosh is now a very famous name and his original pieces [ furniture mainly ] fetch enormous sums and have become iconic. Perhaps the most famous and recognisable piece is the Argyle chair, designed originally in 1897 for the Argyle Street Tea Rooms in Glasgow. Featured in numerous film and television productions, it's still in production and will set you back around £400 if you want to buy a new one.

Mackintosh's story has all the elements required to make him a legendary figure. Good looks, innovative talent, early success, lack of recognition in his home country, a fall from favour, early death. It's a strange paradox that many great artists have followed this pattern - maybe the 'tragedy' element is part of their appeal.

Today in Glasgow you can see evidence of Mackintosh everywhere. From the glory of his original buildings and interiors to the 'heritage' reproductions of his furniture. [ They even reproduced a whole building in 1996 although it only ever previoulsy existed as drawings. ] The 'Mackintosh Typeface' has also enjoyed wide use on signage and graphics. This is where we get into the territory of 'Mockintosh' for CRM was never a typographer - they've copied the letterforms from his architectural drawings. Jewellery, cushions, earrings, dodgy clocks, pens, even dodgier greetings cards - they're all out there - mostly completely wrong - mostly completely awful - just type 'Mackintosh' into ebay to see what I mean. Don't, on any account, confuse this schlock with the real thing.

If I was asked why I like his work so much I think I would be talking about geometry, form, space, rule-breaking, rhythm, contrast and colour. Words though are inadequate to convey the 'total design' that Mackintosh was all about. Only way to know is go see.
Here's drD's top 5 CRM recommendations:

1. Glasgow School of Art Library - Has been called 'the most important interior of the twentieth century'. Abso - bleedin - lutely wonderful - the lights I covet muchly.
2. The Hill House - I am presently working on a homage to the fireplace from the dining room - [ mockintosh moi? ]
3. Scotland Street School - fantastic - it brought back many memories of high ceilinged classrooms, windows that were too high to see out of and that school-dinner-smell. Now a museum. Amazing ceramic tile work and great staircase towers.
4. Glasgow School of Art staircases - many might think this a weird choice but I love them. Dark, mysterious, minimal with amazing detailing.
5. House for an Art Lover - strictly speaking not a true Mackintosh building as it dates from 1996 but nonetheless marvellous. The interiors are sublime and show what CRM might have achieved if he had been given wider patronage and recognition during his life. Music room is the highlight + yet more covetable lamps in the hall.

Mackintosh's work still has a resonance and freshness today and has been hugely influential on architecture and design.
There are numerous web resources devoted to his work; here are some of the more interesting ones:

The CRM society have an interesting online guide to the 12 major Mackintosh sites around Glasgow and you can take a virtual tour - recommended.

The Glasgow School of Art Mackintosh site - a virtual tour of the Mackintosh building - [ his masterwork ] + biography and retail therapy opportunity.

Armin Grewe's Mackintosh site - some great pictures and other Mackintosh material.

The 78 Derngate Trust [ This is offline at the time of writing but accessible here] - possibly the most interesting Mackintosh development going on at the moment. 78 Derngate, a terraced house in Northampton, was remodelled by Mackintosh around 1919 - it is the only major architectural work outside of Glasgow. The house is being fully restored to it's original condition and will be opened to the public sometime in 2003/4? I was lucky enough to see a reconstruction of the Derngate entrance hall in Glasgow during the Mackintosh exhibition held there in 1996 If this is anything to go by the Northampton house will be stunning - I intend to be an early visitor. The Northampton project was Mackintosh's last major commission and it's ironic that it is now the subject of such interest since it was virtually ignored at the time.

Mackintosh died in obscurity in London of Cancer on 10 December 1928.
Gone but emphatically not forgotten.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:33 PM

You know things are looking bleak when June Whitfield lands on your doormat.
Sure enough when I opened it there she was in all her well preserved beigeness [ such a flattering colour dear ] offering me lifelong insurance as long as I act quickly - [ she should know all about that ].
Leave me alone June.
I'm not ready for being well preserved, soft breadrolls from M&S and wholesome topicality on Radio 4.
I'm working on being a sex maniac and controversialist; I don't require the "reassuring feeling from knowing that my funeral expenses are in order".
As jolly as jam tarts you may be June but run along now will you?
Hitch a ride on your stairlift to heaven, stagger into your walk-in bath and leave me to my carefree existence and lustful ways.

What do they know?
Numerous media profiles of Gordon have emerged in the past few days.
Has Tony been planning his exit strategy?

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:29 PM

Based on Mars, The Mysterons are sentient computers constructed by an alien
civilisation.
They are invisible beings with the power of generating evil clones,
as well as rebuilding and ‘Mysteronising’ objects that have been destroyed.
Their trademark warning
"This is the Voice of the Mysterons”
strikes fear into all those that hear it…

Gulp

With Mars closer than ever
thank goodness he's coming back - and now with moving parts courtesy of:
HYPERMARIONATION

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:55 PM

9 years ago this week Dennis Potter, one of the most innovative playwrights of the twentieth century, died of pancreatic cancer. He had named his tumour 'Rupert' in honour of Rupert Murdoch whom he expressed much dislike for.

Throughout my childhood and early adulthood Dennis Potter was a figure of some scandal and controversy. Regularly the tabloid papers would erupt into wing-spectacled fury at the latest 'filth' - as they described his writing. My early life, instilled with Irish Catholic coyness about all sexmatters meant his work had a yet more powerful impact beyond that on the wider society of the time. It was the era of the double entendre with repression to go. The age of Benny Hill, Larry Grayson, Dick Emery. The time when you could refer to 'it' obliquely but never mention 'it' directly unless you were a repulsive fat comedian in a smoke filled nightclub at 1am on ITV. In the midst of this a left leaning playwright with psoriatic arthropathy was given airtime to peddle his genius to a grateful audience. There was a sense of danger, of watching the forbidden and yet as you were watching you realised you were seeing something completely new. Drama that conveyed what ordinary people felt inside, that was not afraid to deal with the down and dirty and seek to explore it and in so doing understand it. This honesty and compuslive fearlessness against so much Daily Mail Disgust I believe helped to move us beyond Benny Hill. In a period when television is formulated like so many mass-moulded washing up bowls, when only the titles and faces change but the plot convulses one more time - it's now difficult to recall the new minted power of Potters work. His conviction that television is a unique form shone through. Meaning that could not be conveyed in film came through in the intimacy and small scale of the television screen. The atmosphere of the interior shots in 'Pennies from Heaven' I still remember vividly. Bob Hoskins here was, in my view, at his peak - still relatively unknown and with the hunger that brings an edge to performance.

I remember the first time I bought, what was for me, an expensive suit. The shop was done out in those old fashioned walnut cabinets, floor to low ceiling. There the suits hung, each a true work of art; fine cloth well cut, hand detailing, racy linings - all reeking of quality - the best. Pennies from Heaven (1978), Blue Remembered Hills (1979), The Singing Detective(1986), Blackeyes (1987). The same feeling: a master has been at work and you have before you quality you won't find on the high street. The socialist in me loves the 'Potterism' that a television audience is worthy of the best in writing and production. That television audiences are far more discriminating and responsive to sophisticated drama than now seems possible when you look at current schedules. But the 'realities' of a fragmented audience, a multi channel, multi media environment bring new pressures in TV production values. Quality, I believe, has suffered. Potter himself expressed the view that it was unlikely he would have been given airtime in the changed environment of the late eighties / early nineties.
Dennis Potter was more extraordinary because he was so ordinary. His biography charts humble origins but also his prodigious emergence. For me though, and the reason I find myself writing this 9 years on, the most meaningful thing that he ever did was connected with his writing only in that it explained so lucidly why he was able to write as he did. Shortly before he died he decided to give a 'last interview'. Speaking to Melvyn Bragg, fortified with a flask of liquid morphine to dull his agonising pain he talked spellbindingly for eighty minutes about his life, his artistry and the meaning his imminent death brought to the present. As I recall it now I'm tearful. It was one of those rare moments when you get to see inside the soul of a person and it was the most affecting thing I've ever seen on television. I'm grateful to Dennis Potter because he expanded my view of what my life could be and he helped me to see my life and the world in a way that is here and now. The most poignant words from his interview remain with me.

"I can celebrate life.
Below my window there's an apple tree in blossom. It's white.
And looking at it - instead of saying, "Oh, that's a nice blossom" - now, looking at it through the window, I see the whitest, frothiest, blossomest blossom that there ever could be.
The nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous.
If you see the present tense - boy, do you see it.
And boy, do you celebrate it."

May he rest in peace.

Awww
Monday it was gaga today it's googoo.
Lol : "Sachets to sachets, rusk to rusk"

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 4:54 PM

Mild Mannered drD steps into a convenient telephone box and emerges as Captain Vengeance.
Rebuffs the snide remark from the underling who dares to gaze upon my countenance.
Tells a certain person to shoveituphisass when he complains in that pompoustwat manner of his.
Reminds certain person that Hunger, Aids, War, Suffering are things to get upset about - his 'problem' is not.
Tells certain person that he is patronising, stuck up and needs to get real - saying, 'Thankyou' from time to time would help too.
Slaps Mr Dipsy who cocked up again.
Applauds sarcastically Miss Punctuality who turns up late again showing her disrespect for all of us awaiting her arrival.
Phones Mr Twitchy to nitpick over the arrangements he has failed to make - paying him back for all the nitpicking he has done previously.
Launches car to car missile to correct the dangerous driving of Jeremy Clarkson-Clone who attempts to undertake Captain Vengeance and send him to the Undertaker.
Steps back into the telephone box and emerges once again as Mild Mannered drD, adjusts glasses and exits left.
grrr

And now for some loveliness

Later that day
Think I've calmed down a bit now.
What was that I was saying a while back about aggro?

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:03 PM

BBC World is running a short but thought provoking interview with Arthur C Clarke. [ he is actually a 'Sir' but 'Sir Arthur C Clarke' sounds weird no? ] Now in his 85th year I have long admired him; he just keeps on keeping on. There is a BUPA ad running at the moment featuring assorted older persons performing wrinklyrobics and playing chess while a bepoodled scottish lady tells us all that it's not automatic that getting older = going gaga. It seems that plenty of online porn, a daily dose of Countdown and suitably challenging crossword puzzles will act like a kind of cerebral codliver oil to ensure that the 97% of brain cells remaining to the old folk continue to function as nature intended. How reassuring is that?
Anyway, Arthur C has a far more interesting angle - inventing space elevators and such. Living in Sri Lanka he is a little cut off from mainstream society but makes extensive use of the internet to keep in touch. Tim Berners Lee credits him as the 'Godfather of the World Wide Web' which is no mean accolade. Clarke's view of technology is unashamedly positive. He sees it as the key thing which has allowed humanity to progress. This reminds me of James Watson's take that I wrote about on April 14th. I confess to finding this view strangely empowering. Like being given permission to celebrate the technological enthusiasm I've always had. My grandmother used to glaze over at my endless tales of 'this new thing' I would enthusiastically tell her about as I recounted the latest technological breakthrough I had seen on that weeks Tomorrows World. Little did I know then that she was born before the first powered human flight took to the skies and that she would die soon after the first human landing on the moon. In the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington you can walk in through the front door and see floating overhead the Wright brothers Flyer, just below on the ground there is the Apollo 11 command module in all it's amazing splendour like some old wireless set gently illuminated from within with a soft golden light. You've seen the TV footage but somehow seeing the actual tin can they went in makes you realise how far we can go when we put our collective minds to it. 10 years ago I picked up the first rumblings of something called the internet and it quickly became my latest 'new thing'. I am what they call in the trade, an 'early adopter' and I can still remember mucking about with a text based web browser and a 9600 baud modem. I want to be like Arthur C when I get to be 85 using and relishing technology that hasn't even been thought of yet. Far better this than propped up in a highback chair dribbling into a paper cup eh? There now, I don't feel quite so bad about splashing out on my juicy new flatscreen monitor.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:51 PM

drD's guide for the essential knowledge of modern life
Hot weather
Q. Say how a person should entertain at home during a spell of hot weather.
A. A person should entertain at home during a spell of hot weather through the establishment of an animal crematorium. This should be in the open air. An ideal time for it's ignition would be a quiet day such as the LORDS day. The neighbouring properties should be reconnoitred to ensure that all windows are open. This will ensure widespread distribution of the aroma to all neighbours. Begin by imbibing a few bevvies at the noonday - it is recommended to remove one's outer garments. This to enable a healthy glow to develop upon the skin. Pour a large quantity of petroleum spirit upon the pyre which should be prepared at least five minutes before. Ignite whilst holding a tinny - Fosters would be an excellent choice. Immediately begin the cremation. Heap as many body parts as is possible onto the pyre, baste with melted lard and poke occasionally with a stick. It may be advantageous to employ an industrial electrical fan to blow the smoke to your neighbours open windows should the wind drop at any time. Only those amongst your gathering who shall have consumed sufficient bevvies may be permitted to eat of the pyre. A suitable musical accompaniment for the hard house massive would be Milked from 'Tidy Trax'. Sweet.
Q. State how a person should be attired during the summer months.
A. First principles dicate that usual sartorial rules are suspended for the duration of the clement weather. This should be considered at all times in choosing one's attire. It may be found for gentlemen that some adidas trackies, worn lo-slung afford great comfort. This is a particularly smart choice for the older, stouter, gentleman who may appreciate the additional ventilation afforded his buttcrack. Care should be taken to select fabric of a synthetic nature so as to prevent the evaporation of vital manly juices. The modern way is to expose the upper torso so as to maximise exposure to the sun for the entire three days of summer. Ladies will do well to discard the encumbrance of corsetage opting for a less formal thong and bra top combo.
Q. Should social behaviour change at times of climatic heat?
A. It is now usual to suspend customary rules of social behaviour during periods of climatic heat. The natural tendency for a person to experience physical discomfort at such times may be much alleviated if attention is paid to the advice given above in relation to appropriate attire. However there may well be points at which it is desirable to ride around the neighbourhood in a motor vehicle at high speed. Additional pleasure may be brought to one's companions at such times through the playing of Milked from 'Tidy Trax' upon the in-car phonograph. This pleasure may be shared more widely if one is considerate enough to ensure the windows of the vehicle are kept open - especially in the very early morning. Younger ladies and gentlemen may also enjoy being taken to a public place and screamed at by their parents. This is a most satisfactory arrangement for all concerned when performed in Netto adjacent to the carbonated beverages.

Gday! - want to drive someone crazy?
Play this for half an hour with the speakers turned up loud.
Rolftastic.

If you really like it you can download a permanent one to install on your PC - I did - it's groovy.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:57 AM

drD's guide for the essential knowledge of modern life