Simplicity is good

Being concise is fantastic. From the title of this post, you can instantly see that being straightforward is something I admire. This largely originates from people (mainly marketers) favouring elaborate descriptions over saying it as it is.

I have 2 examples:

1. Menus:

Take any gastro pub and you’ll find ‘pan-fried’ something or other and some kind of extravagant fillet of a never-before-heard breed of cow. This is over-complication at its worst. It's just poncy people trying to justify charging a premium. How else do you want your chicken fried if not in a pan? I can’t remember the last time the chef cooked it in the palm of his hand, or put it on the hot tap and hoped it cooked. Just call it fried chicken. The fancy beef is just fillet steak. Simple. I like fillet steak.

Chicken. Frying. In a pan (unsurprisingly)

2. Shampoo

This is something that frustrates me immensely. All of the brands do it. There is always some new ‘nourishing eco-complex multi-regenerational liquid moisturising’ agent that has been added. What’s more it has been given an approval rating by 78% of women. Or has it? Take a look at the small print and they asked 87 women. I’m not statistician but I’m sure that’s not a representative survey.

I’m sure someone at L’Oreal, P&G or wherever has worked bloody hard to make the new ingredient, but at the end of the day IT’S SHAMPOO!!!! It’s going to be pretty similar to the other shampoos that people have been using for the last 25 years,  it just might smell a bit different.

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Children should be barred

People and alcohol is a sacrosanct relationship. It helps us through bad times (ignore those councillors who say it’s bad) and makes the good times even better. At the end of a stressful day, my nice friend Miss Stella Artois and her colleague John Smith are there to calm the nerves, put the world in perspective and make everything better.

To improve things further, we make it a social occasion and meet up with friends. The world can be held to account, we can berate idiots and unite in drunken revelry.

Happy Drunk

Now I’ve documented before how Thai Food can ruin  things, there’s another one to add to the list. CHILDREN.

Who/what/why and when did it become acceptable for children to be around adults in bars? I’m all for sociable family restaurants, but I draw the line at bars. They’re adult places. We (I) want to talk about tits, football, work, tits, politics, beer etc... without the ear-drum piecing squeal of a hyper-active child cutting through the atmosphere. Hotel bars are worst. Parents think that they can get away with having their kids in bars because they’re on holiday and they can keep their kids up longer. Well, you can’t. I want to be able to swear, shout and spill beer without the fear of teaching about gynaecology and using words they shouldn't hear for another 10 years. It’s an adult place, your child should be in bed you mindless, inconsiderate fool.

Annoying Child

What makes it worse is that they then have the audacity to tell you to be quiet, give you evil looks or insist on staying in the bar out of principle. You people should take a step back for a second, look at where you are and then realise you’re wrong. The bar is for people like me. Not you. And certainly not that mis-behaving, crying little shit that just spilled coke on my shoe.

London's drowning in clutter

What an anti-climax London must be to tourists. A supposedly beautiful city is covered in tat, caked in lurid colours and nobody does a thing about it.

I’ll explain what I mean. Paris is a magnificent place. This was encapsulated for me when I visited there when I was 16. I went for school trip, and being a teenage Northerner, I was drawn to a cultural hotspot. Not the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe or Sacre Coeur.  No, the place me and my cohorts visited was McDonald on the Champs Elysees. Now I don’t know if this fact was made up, or if it has been enforced anywhere else since, but I was told this particular franchise was the only McDonalds in the world to have a gold ‘M’ on it. In fact, all of the signs on the front were gold.  Spending much of my youth in Hull, I was shocked that anywhere would take pride in the appearance of their buildings to the extent they’d make a massive company change their signs.

McDonalds on the Champs Elysees

Fast forward to London in 2010 and what do we have? With a typical glance down a London street you’ll see, at least, the following clutter:

• For sale signs
• Sold signs
• To Let signs
• Let signs
• Congestion charge cameras
• Congestion charge road markings
• Traffic lights
• Bus lanes
• Speed cameras
• Speed camera signs
• Parking meters
• Double yellow lines
• Red lines

Ah... Glorious London

The list could easily go on but I won’t labour the point. Most of the above are pretty standard signs and they arguably deserve to be erected, but the first 4 should be removed as soon as possible and the others could be better positioned. There seems to be no authority to take control and make a stand. London is a damn expensive place to live and it’s made all the more intolerable by the lack of concern about this kind of matter. I’m sure I sound like a town councillor in training, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. People should care. People should have some civic pride. Not forget to remove old signs, or not give a damn about an increasing amount of clutter that gradually drags an area down.

It’s not just signs. As the list above shows, there are a multitude of colours that adorn our roads. Leaving aside the fact that most of them have gaping holes in them, they now have black tarmac, white lines, red bus lanes, yellow lines, red routes and now some roads have terrible blue cycle lanes. I’m a big fan of cycle lanes, but adding a thin line of blue to the road does not constitute a safe, durable bike line. It’s a cheap halfway house and is yet another attack on our eyes and on our city.

Let’s end this lack of interest and care. London should be a great city, at the moment it’s a cluttered mess.

Honey I shrunk the jumper

Hand wash only. 3 little words that spark 4 letter outbursts.

I don’t like shopping much. I get in and get out, dodging teenagers trying on hats and asking my myself  why the shop  hasn’t got round to either installing air con for the summer, or turning down the furnace-like heaters in winter.

So, it makes it all the more irritating when I’ve battled through the pain, have worn the new item and then decided to wash it. I toss it in the machine, add powder and press start. Simple. Then when the cycle has ended, to my instant annoyance, I realise that my brand new jumper/shirt/anything has shrunk down to a small child’s size. I kid myself for a couple of seconds... “I can stretch it out” I say, “it’ll be ok”. I hang it next to a trusted old shirt that will accompany the new garment. They’re clearly never going to fit together. Cue a four letter outburst and much irritation.

Quite clearly, the thing that has riled me the most is that this is totally 100% my mistake. The label clearly says ‘Hand wash only’ and it has happened to me many times before. There’s one thing I hate more than incompetence, and that’s my incompetence.  So I ignore it and swear heartedly at the machine for not treating the garment with more care, at the manufacturers for making an item unsuitable for the modern world and finally at the shop for selling it to a clearly incompetent man.  I tell you what though, If I ever have a 10 year old son, he will be the best dressed kid at school. 

Very annoying post

I make no apologies, this is a very, very small problem and one that probably won’t elicit any kind of empathy, but I don’t have a key to my mailbox at my flat. Phew, it feels good to get that off my chest.

 I get hardly any post, even the bank emails statements now, so in total the flat receives no more than 3 letters per week. But it’s really irritating. Because I rent and our landlord has no interest in the flat, I can’t easily open the mailbox to get my post (or break it and get a new one). It seems such a small problem and one that would have an easy solution. But it doesn’t. We can’t get the key.

I can imagine you all (3 of you) reading this post thinking “so how do you get your post?”. Well, I’m pleased you’ve asked.

Whereas some of you will have you post on the door mat when you come in and others will slip a little key into a box and open it, I have developed a new method involving a chair and 2 spatulas. Here’s how I get my post: (see diagram)

1. Peer into the top of the box through the “post in” slot and see post
2. Try to put hand through “annoyingly small gap”
3. Get irritated that my hand is too large for the annoying small gap (as it is every time)
4. Stare angrily at the “redundant lock”
5. Trudge upstairs, annoyed
6. Come back down stairs with a chair and 2 spatulas
7. Stand on chair
8. Poke spatulas into the “post in” slot and try to press them together around the post and lever it upwards. Basically, it’s like trying to use chopsticks to lift a steak up in a bean can. Don’t ask why a steak would be in bean can, I don’t have an answer for that.
9. Ignore the stares from curious onlookers and dab sweat from brow
10. Repeat steps 8 and 9 several times, sweating more and turning a worrying shade of red
11. Prize post out of mailbox, feel hugely heroic until salty sweat trickles onto eyeball, reverting me back to a state of anger

So there you have it. That’s how I get my post. Please don’t send me anything.

It is broken and we should fix it... Just do it faster

2025. A long way in the future. If we’re to believe Hollywood (and who am I to doubt them?!), we’ll have run out of oil, live in caves/old caravans/in forest/under water, use hover-boards and there could well be aliens among us, if they aren’t already that is.

So, I think you’ll agree, a lot will happen in that time. Well, I’m sorry to tell you Mr Spielberg, but here in the UK things take a lot longer to change than you imagine. The thing causing me most annoyance today is the amount of time it takes to build anything over here. The biggest example of this I can think of right now is the redevelopment of Elephant and Castle (E&C) in South London 

E&C is a shithole. It’s horrible. There are many examples of the post war concrete monstrosities across the UK and Europe but E&C stands out to me. Here a whole area is characterised by crowded roads, concrete skyscrapers, a hideous shopping centre and underground tunnels that are piss stained and beggar-filled. Basically it needs changing, which thankfully is happening. A big step has been taken to transform a sink-estate into a progressive, modern, safe and aspirational community.

Why am I grumpy then? Well because by latest reckoning it won’t be finished until 2025. That’s 15 years away. By then, a whole new generation will have passed through this festering pit of filth and squalor. Many more dreams and hopes will have been reduced to disappointment and under-achievement. Why? This has been discussed for the past decade, and while it needs to be carefully considered to ensure that it won’t fall victim of the same past problems, a further 15 years is too long.  If we’re going to get out of this economic mess we’re in, we need to act well and act decisively, not spend 15 years re-building, otherwise we'll never be able to afford those hover-boards

A grumpy life part 2

I arrive at work sweating a little and with a mild feeling of anger. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I get to my desk, notice that the cleaners haven’t swept the dust off my desk again. I move an old pack of post it notes and see underneath what colour the desk used to be. I put them back again and go to make a coffee. Idle chit chat passes the time as the early morning coffee round queue dwindles. Looks like everyone is “OK thanks” or, “yeah OK, X days until the weekend”. I offer no alternative but wonder to myself what kind of comment I could slip in under the radar and get away with it.

Work progresses nicely as the email inbox fills up with requests for stats, info, insights and costs. People come and go, the occasional call is answered and lunch arrives. What to get today? A boring choice of local sandwich shops that are either too expensive, don’t give enough fillings or put you in danger of spending a week on the toilet. The pub shines out like a beautiful beacon of hope and joy but at £3.70 a pint won’t be as much fun as you’d hope. Plus they’ve probably decided to sell Thai food now. Settle for sandwich, get disappointed, even adding salt and vinegar crisps doesn’t jazz it up. Check my personal email. Nothing there. Not even spam.

Continue with work. All passes successfully and head home, this time by bus to avoid a face-in-armpit situation. 5 mins down the road it starts to rain. Umbrella is at my desk and I decide I’m too close to the bus stop to turn around. Crowd into the bus shelter and huddle with fellow commuters either smoking, shouting on the phone or listening to music on loudspeaker.  The bus arrives, and quickly departs. It’s ‘too full’,  but I’m certain I saw a space in between the tourist, their suitcase and the baby’s pushchair complete with screaming child. Everyone agrees the driver’s an idiot and we shouldn’t have to pay for service like this.

Make it home, realise the evening is running through my fingers so I get changed and decide I’ll do something different tonight. Life’s too short and the clock is ticking. I put on the telly while I think of what to do. Les Dennis is offering to give the contestant the money himself. The answer’s not there. Les’s cheque book is safe this time! I see what’s on next, Bullseye!  Oh well, life’s not so bad after all, I’ll do something new tomorrow.

A grumpy life part 1

Getting old. Christ, I'm getting old. I'm now 27 (older than my
blogger name, I know) and I find myself hating things more than before.

I'm at home now thinking about where I live, how I live and wondering how we let ourselves live like this.

Over the next couple of post I'll explain how a typical day goes, Here's the morning:

I wake up, watch terrible sickly sweet 'news' with a horribly smiley Scottish lady telling me what the weather is like. I get in the shower and feel mildly content. It's warm, I'm clean and the whole day is ahead of me. There is nothing that can hold me back.

Then I get dressed. It's wonderful. My beautiful girlfriend is there. How does she put up with me? She leaves before she questions it herself. Thank god. I don't believe in him but I'll thank him anyway.

Then off to work. I pass a woman having a Dr Pepper and a fag, a traffic warden offering misery to all and walk behind 3 smokers all issuing me with their individual piece of cancerous smoke. I've not touched on the school kids eating shite, drinking filth and bullying the nice kids...They'll never change.

I walk into the tube station. Touch in. Stand by the lift. Wait in line. People are congregating by the door. They have to get to in there first. God forbid that they have to get in near the back. The World will crumble if that happens.

We're at the height of summer and people are still taking coats down there. They're not happy, it was cloudy outside and they've come prepared for rain. They feel foolish. They are fools. But we have to suffer their elbows, their panic and their impatience as they force their way on to a crowded carriage. They're important. They matter. The train following in 2 minutes is not good enough. This is the train that matters.

The train painfully makes its way to the station and people pour off and stand in line as we rise to the surface. Bad breath, more sweat and panicked tourists ensure that the rushed start to the day continues. At last the sunlight emerges and I begin to relax. 5 minutes of solitude lay ahead. Shit, no they don't. There's a Sport magazine forced into my hand. Michael Owen is having another comeback! I can't wait...

More to come soon...

Did you forget something?

Writing this after watching England win to qualify in the World Cup, there isn't too much to be grumpy about. Then again, the first 2 games were appalling so I can't see me being too optimistic in the near future.

Walking around town earlier today reminded my of something that I think is really stupid. Girls wearing leggings as the only item of clothing to cover their bottom half:

I don't think that there's a single person out there that this looks good on. Anyone that knows me will be quick to say that I'm no fashionista and I'm sure that I regularly make massive fashion mistakes, but at least I remember to put my trousers on every morning.

I'm perfectly happy for women to wear leggings, leggings are good, just put your skirt or trousers on too. Everyone can see your pants, and even the best arse looks pretty dreadful in leggings only. Skirts are nice, wear them.

If you're reading this and think that you look cool when you wear a lumberjack shirt and leggings then you're wrong. If I could afford it I'd buy a billboard in East London to try to stop girls in Shoreditch from dressing like this. It's not an issue of me wanting every girl to be demure and cover up, it's just that it looks terrible.

And it's not just trendy London folk either.I've been pretty kind in the picture I put in above. I've only focussed on the problems that leggings have on a girls bum. There's a big thing (sometimes a MASSIVE thing) that's even worse and that's the dreaded camel toe... If you don't know what a camel toe is then search for it in Google images and turn your safe search off.

I was at Alton Towers recently and walking round was scarier than the rides. It turns out that Northern girls have just discovered leggings. And it's not just young, healthy women wearing them. It's women who have had a couple of kids and more than a couple of kebabs. Leggings force skin into places that I don't want to see. Maybe their local primark ran out of skirts, maybe they dropped a burger on themselves on the coach there? Whatever the reason, it's not good enough. NOBODY wants to see your camel toe. Put it away

Camping

The summer is upon us. Glorious sunshine falls down upon us for literally minutes at a time and people are arranging holidays to far flung places to enjoy yet more sun. We scrape together enough money to stay in the best place we can afford and relax in more luxury and with better facilities than our homes. A sensible move and a way to justify in your mind the months of hard work that have paid for it.

That is, except for a small collective who like to throw away common sense and stay in an over-sized plastic bag for days at a time with no running water, toilets, or beds. These strange, strange people like to go camping. Why?? Why would you holiday in conditions worse than those that you live in at home??? I can just about tolerate tents at festivals. It's a necessary trade off for enjoying music. But away from this, it's just bizarre.

Now, I'm not talking about people who can't afford to go somewhere nice. Of course there should be a form of holidaying for all people. I'm talking about people who can afford better. Who have good jobs. Who have nice houses. People who normally make sensible decisions. I can't work out where in their minds they think that it makes sense to go and pitch up in a field with a load of strangers in close proximity. Campsites aren't some romantic getaway where the wind blows through the hills and the only noise you hear are the merry chirps of birdsong and the flow of a river through a scenic valley. They're a field in a farm with shared toilets (always caked in shit) far away from civilisation and no protection from the weather. A terrible experience.

Your possessions are not safe as a tent offers no security, the floor hurts your back and you'll invariably return back miserable and regretful that you didn't book a hotel. Anyone who tries to argue otherwise is lying to themselves.

We've evolved beyond camping, there's no need to go back.

Tattoo much

The human body is an incredible thing. It works magnificently well without us even thinking for a second about how amazing it is.

Being the creative, imaginative people that we are, we then decide that we'll customise the body that we've been given. People chose new hair styles and colours, wear different types of clothes and vary our weight. There's one way that irritates the hell out of me though. You've probably guessed it from the name of the article. It's tattoos.

Those that get them say they're wonderful, individual and make a statement or mark an event. To me all they do is spoil a perfectly formed body. The seemingly constant trend of girls tattooing the small of their back (the tramp stamp) is the biggest shame of all. In a previous life as a single man, it was a constant disappointment to see (out the corner of my eye) a pretty girl lean over to pick up a coin, pen or lipstick only to reveal the hideousness of the tattoo thus:

A previously attractive girl then lost any notion of individuality, originality or common sense.

If you really like the image then take a picture/print one off and carry it in your pocket! Then when it gets tired, stretched or faded you can print another. Alternatively buy a load of transfers. They look just as effective and you can change them when you want.

Let's say that something actually transpired with one of those girls (a long shot I know). The last thing I'd want to do in the heat of the moment is try to translate a Celtic script or work out why this girl likes angel wings so much that she'd want to put them on a part of the body that she can see only slightly better than the back of her head.

Letting agents

Living in London I find myself moving on average once a year. The most unfortunate consequence of this is that I have to deal with letting agents. It's pretty clear to me that evolution has taken a strange course with these 'people'.

As I write this, there is a loud camp guy standing outside my house waiting to show some strangers around. He was due to show them round 35 mins ago and yet he hasn't come and apologised and acknowledged that they're unlikely to turn up. Nor has he thought that it's a rainy night and it might be better to come in and have a cuppa with us in the warm. No, he's standing shivering holding on to the vain hope that they turn up. I might take him a hot water bottle.

While I slightly pity the guy, I'm more annoyed than anything. The last couple of weekends they've been due to show people round but they haven't showed up. If I was supposed to go round to someone's house and intrude on their weekend then I'm certain I'd let them know if I was going to turn up. The thing troubling me now is that they might've actually been here all the time, waiting outside. Now I'm not scared or anything, it's just odd that someone would hang around outside other people's homes at the weekend. What strange people.

He's still there by the way

I get most annoyed by hearing them speak about houses, which they insist on calling properties. That winds me up. It's a house or flat, they only say property so that they can tell their mum they used a word with 3 syllables. This guy has been telling people that our sofa will be replaced. We were told that 14 months ago. It hasn't been replaced. They make bullish predictions about the amount of time it takes to get to the tube or the shops. And the worst thing of all is we lap it up! When we want to be convinced that somewhere is good enough why do we take their advice? They hang around outdoors in the rain, they're unable to control the volume of their voice and they're not even good enough to sell houses! They're only deemed worthy enough to show people lettings.

Hopefully soon I'll be able to buy somewhere, part of me hopes that the sales people will be a new breed. That they'll talk sense at a reasonable volume and that they'll let people know when they're not showing up. I think I might be disappointed...

Anyway, got to go, he's just rung the door bell and they've arrived. 50 minutes late. I'll get him a towel, he's a little damp now.

Going Gaga

I can't stand Lady Gaga. She had 2 pretty decent lightweight pop songs a year or so ago and now some how she's being held up as a huge cultural icon. Why? She's the most pompous idiot I've had the misfortune to be exposed to since Jude Law.

A couple of weeks ago she was on Jonathan Ross promoting her new song. She did so with a phone on her head. Now I know some people think that's cool, that it's cutting edge and shows that she's amazingly brave and courageous for doing so. I'm not buying that. She did it because she's an attention seeker with limited talent and knows that the rest of her album won't secure her headlines. Her voice is weak, her songs are poorly written and she's not a very good performer. Big shoulder pads, hair extensions and whore-like make up don't make someone a star. It just proves that they need to mask their lack of ability.

Her interview showed how vacuous she is. We were given no insight into her, what she does that makes her unique beyond being a cock and the only vaguely interesting line of conversation was closed down. Ross dared to ask her why Bowie is an influence on her and she refused to go into it saying it was 'private'. How did the BBC give such exposure to her when she was unwilling to go into really basic questions.

I'm really looking forward to her next album. I'm sure it's going to flop and then all of the idiots who have held her up as an icon will have to move into their next temporary idol. In the meantime, unfortunately, I'm going to have to tolerate her and all the morons who feed her ego.

Pop stars are an egotistical bunch, they have to be to take all the knocks and put downs they get. Gaga takes the piss though. Whereas Bono is undoubtedly a self promoting dick, but he's got a mountain of platinum selling albums and has raised millions for AIDS. Geldof might not have the glittering back catalogue but again has done enough to justify the ego. Gaga hasn't so should get back to reality, take the phone off her head and try to write some decent songs

Hold the Headline

Does anyone else find it incredibly irritating that we’re constantly fed uninteresting/unimportant American news in our TV bulletins, online and radio?

Take last week for example. Bill Clinton had to make a trip to hospital as he’s got a bit of a dodgy ticker (too much weed, cigars and ‘sexual relations’ I reckon). This made it into a fairly prominent position on the BBC website and was one of the leading stories on the telly. Bill Clinton was an excellent President. He helped push through the Northern Ireland peace process, lowered unemployment in the states and brought about unity in the international community. However, he was US President. He had no (direct) control over the UK. No British person cast a vote for him and he certainly hasn’t lived here since being President.

Why then, does this displace UK or European news from the headlines? Had he been involved in a kidnap plot, actually died or maybe had another affair then it might be worth hearing about. What next, is George W having a pedicure going to be the lead story on News at 10?

Our news should cover stories that matter to us. I’m sure that day a pensioner was mugged in the street, or a child was hit by a car. That is unpleasant news but it matters. We need to know that these things happen so that we can lobby for better policing or ensure that people have respect for older people. I couldn’t care less if Bill has a dodgy heart. It’s obviously a concern for his family or any women that happens to find themselves beneath him, but it doesn’t affect my daily life. If there is a mugging in my local area, or somewhere else in the country, then I’ll be more aware and can look out for similar things happening. It’s got to the point where we were being told about record snow on the East coast of America. IT DOESN’T MATTER TO US!!!!!!!! We’re in the UK!!! Tell me about something important.

What makes this worse is that there is rarely any information about anywhere beyond the States or our immediate European cousins. When there is a flood in Bangladesh we hear about it for 5 minutes on one day and then it’s forgotten. If there’s a fire in tower block in Kenya we don’t hear about it at all. Sure, the news from the States might be very easy to get hold of as the TV networks are more developed, but one of the roles of the BBC is to bring the UK news from the whole world. That’s why millions of pounds of licence fee money is spent on sending correspondents to all corners of the globe.

Reporting of banal news only helps to build the general malaise in UK society.

In the UK, and London in particular people have no respect for their local environment. People throw rubbish on the ground, spit in public and let their dogs shit wherever they like without cleaning it up. We need to be energised about local issues, know what the problems are and take appropriate action. Of course, there are local news bulletins and pages on websites but they’re generally poor quality and a lot of the news reporters take the word ‘lightweight’ to a new floatier level.

To summarise I want the following:

1. UK news to be given greater prominence across UK news organisations
2. Local matters to be made more important
3. ‘World News’ to truly be global, not just USA

A big kinda problem...

Business meetings are often amazing places. You meet with some of the brightest clients, suppliers and colleagues to learn exciting, interesting information or tips to help you think about things differently and do your job better. They help to move important issues forwards and can solve many problems.

Unfortunately they can also be intensely boring and irritating. As I find an increasing percentage of my time in meetings, I’ve started to notice clear traits and expressions that drive me mad. There are people who don’t speak loudly enough, those who speak too loudly (I think I’m one of these people), those who fidget, pick their nose, leave their ringtones on and many who simply sit there bored, unable or unwilling to contribute.

However, there’s one that has started to drive me mad beyond belief. It’s people saying ‘kinda’. I work in the media industry and I think that means I’m more exposed to the ‘kinda’ plague than most. There’s a lot of hot air spouted and very few interesting or insightful things to say.

There are 2 problems with ‘kinda’:

1. The use of ‘kinda’

‘Kinda’ has evolved beyond the basic word you use to fill pauses while you speak. There are many of them. ‘basically’, ‘in terms of’, ‘erm’... It seems as though ‘kinda’ is a word people use when they’re trying to sound knowledgeable. What the user doesn’t realise though is that it’s demonstrating the exact opposite. For example:

• “I think that we kinda have to spend more on X...” NO! You don’t ‘kinda’ think. You do think that.

• “ I’ve put together a kinda business plan” Is it a business plan or not? I want a business plan, not a kinda business plan. If it’s not a business plan then turn it into one. Fast!!!

• “What this graph kinda shows is...” If the graph doesn’t totally show us what you’re trying to show then it isn’t a good graph to show. Try again.


2. ‘kinda’ is not even a word!!!!!

Why is it appropriate to use a fake word in front of important people? If people were saying ‘kind of’ then I’d be slightly less irked by the situation. I also reckon people would start to use the phrase less if they thought about what it actually means. By masking behind a fake word, the protagonist has introduced a shroud of false knowledge that perhaps they even they believe.

Now I’d like to point out that I don’t immediately think you’re no good at your job or presenting if you use ‘kinda’. I’ve been guilty of using it myself in the past. I would, however, urge you to listen out for it and put a stop to using it before I turn in Michael Douglas in Falling Down.

Get in line

Security at airports. The least enjoyable part of plane journey. Long queues, getting undressed and being touched by strangers. Oh yes, and they’re now taking naked photos of you too. If a club tried doing that it’d be closed down and the owners locked away. We all hate it but it’s a necessary evil to stop terrorists blowing us into many pieces.

However, last time I was at an airport I saw something that really hacked me off. I don’t travel frequently enough to know of it’s available across the board, but Luton Airport charge £3 to enable people to queue jump. How dare they? How is this possible?

Security is something that everyone has to go through. You can’t turn up at the post office and pay £3 to go to the front of the queue. Who made it acceptable for a rich business traveller or a well to do family to skip to the front of a queue, leaving the great unwashed to stand miserably watching the great and the good breeze by.

Some might argue that it’s a choice. You can pay £3 if you want to get through faster, or you can wait in line for free. This is nonsense as offering a £3 premium service automatically makes the rest of us have to wait longer. It slows down the standard service, which is already painfully long.

I think it’s unfair on parents to have to justify the situation to their kids. They already get to see how people in 1st class travel by being forced to traipse through that section on the way to the back of the plane with the plebs. Now there’s another sign that you’re not good enough for you kids. That you’ve not tried hard enough or worked hard enough to be able to provide the best for the family. A family holiday is expensive and it’s disgusting that a two tier structure is created where it is not welcome.

In my eyes this is a thoroughly disgusting practice and should be stopped immediately.

Registering my disapproval

Something has been winding me up recently. It’s not a major world issue or some kind of life or death problem, more a little annoyance. I hate little annoyances.

It’s registration forms on websites. This doesn’t apply to all sites, just those that you’re paying for a product or service and they insist on you registering first. Take Virgin trains for example. I never use Virgin Trains but have to use them this week for work. I went to the site, found my ticket and tried to buy it. Only problem is that they want all of my details when all they really need is a phone number, credit card and email address. And they only need them once for that transaction as I don’t intend using the service again anytime soon.

Instead, they want my full address and other details that they just don’t need. It’s obvious why they do it, so they can mail me with offers and info and sell my details to 3rd parties. Only problem is that I always uncheck those boxes. I’m not interested in a half price special to Runcorn or discounted entry to Chester Zoo. All I want to do is buy 1 return ticket, get my train and be done with it.

Dominos pizza do it well. They give you the option to register to make future purchases easier, but they don’t insist on it. I guess the point is that I have an option to use another pizza company, but by the way our rail network is set up, I have to pay Branson to use the rail network that our taxes have paid for. Branson knows this so we doesn’t have to give us the option not to register.

The net result (pun very much intended) is that my web experience is slowed down and I dislike Virgin Trains before I’ve even used the service. As I mentioned, I’m not against all registration. If I’m getting a service or content for free then chances are I’ll give my details as a trade off. When a money grabbing billionaire want to sell my details and market to me, even though I’m forced to use ‘their’ trains, well that’s a different story.

Update

To make matters worse, Branson also charges for using wifi on his trains. £4.90 an hour. How is that justified? A web cafe charges around £1 an hour tops. Why is it nearly 500% more on his/our train? The East Coast line provides it for free. As a further kick in the teeth it is impossible to get anything approaching a decent signal on O2 anywhere on the 2 hour journey I made to Chester. Guess what, you have to register again to use the web with him!

I want my web back Branson, stop demanding my details and give me free/reasonable priced wifi. It’s most ridiculous thing you’ve done since your guest appearance in Baywatch

Pubs part 2

Following swiftly on from the Thai Food issue, my next problem with pubs is thus:

I was in Amsterdam recently for a trip away with some mates. One of the things that really stood out for me was the how different each bar, cafe and coffee shop was. Each had their own style, music and atmosphere. The owners and staff were all friendly and helpful and you could tell that they really bought into the place that they worked.

Contrast that with London, and England as a whole, and you'll find that the majority of what we can offer are bland homogenised chain pubs. They generally have the same sticky carpet, worn seats and staff with a glazed look on their face. There are some notable exceptions, the Queen's Larder in Holborn and the Red Lion in Yorkshire, but by and large it's the same cheap prices and poor quality offering across the board.

Of course, there are times that I've been to these places and had a great time, mainly as a student. But now when I see the places I think that I'd rather just go home. Or (and I'm writing this as quietly as possible) go for a coffee instead. Actually scrap that last idea, that's ridiculous. If you glance into a wetherspoons or such like you'll see 2 types of people.

1. Students.
2. Pensioners

As the majority of the population sits within the 2, I don't think it's a big demand to want a nice pub serving varied beers at a reasonable price. I don't want to stand next to a drunk 70 year old who has clearly used his trousers as his toilet all day, or share a table with loud students spouting their opinions with no understanding of what the issues are or how little other people care about their views.

I'd like the decor to match the area or owner's personality. Food is covered in this link but in short it should not be Thai. I expect I'll have a little rant about gastro pubs one day, however, any pub that serves a burger but has no ketchup should be banned. 32 Great Queen Street I mean you!

So, in short, independent pubs are good. Chain pubs are bad. Phew I feel more relaxed now.

Pubs part 1

So it's been a little time since I last blogged and you'll be pleased to know that I'm still as grumpy as ever. The delay is mainly down to my laptop setting on fire as I was using it (it's old and the fan gave way). No new laptop yet so the next post may be similarly late. Apologies.

The Pub. A fantastic place. To be honest. one of my favourites. A great pub is a place that you'd happily spend, hours, days, weeks of your life in.

In the winter they have the warmth of an open fire, strong ale and red cheeked people escaping the cold and catching up on gossip. During summer they have beer gardens, BBQs, live football on TV and a refreshing, thirst quenching larger (spritzer for the ladies).

However, there are 2 major things that are spoiling them for me right now. I'll discuss one now and return to deal with the next one later on. I'm sure the suspense is killing you.

Right, so. Here's my problem. You're out on a freezing cold day shopping/going to the football/having a walk/insert what you like to do outside here, and you feel peckish. You remember there's that lovely old pub round the corner that you've been meaning to go into for ages and it might be perfect for a bit of pub grub. You get all excited a picture a nice sausage and mash or pie and chips in your head and pick up the pace. The cold doesn't seem so bad anymore as you round the corner and see the pub. Then you notice the dreaded sign. One that has plagued you on many a lunch time trip out the office. "Thai Food Served Here". Your heart shatters, head drops and the cold feels more biting than it ever did before. This was not what you'd imagined.

Before you start saying "I like Thai food, it's an interesting and exciting mix of Indian and Chinese", I'd like to point out that I kind of like Thai food. In fact I find it an interesting and exciting mix of Indian and Chinese.

My problem is that this is a pub. Not a Thai restaurant. I'm all for diversification amongst publicans who battle against insolvency but this is not the way to go. Pub food should be pub food. Pie and chips, fish and chips, scotch eggs at the bar. Simple.

The quality of the Thai food you get in pubs is awful and standardised. No interesting flavours, vibrant colours or imaginative combinations. It makes a good pub bad and I will avoid giving it custom out of principle.

Publicans of Britain please take heed (I'm sure there are loads of you reading my blog), if you serve Thai food I shall not frequent your establishment.