My favourite dictator
April 30th, 2006 at 01:44

A few weeks ago I set about the task of e-mailing minor celebrities with an important question. A question so important that only people on the fringes of celebrity, the sort of people that would be excellent on Celebrity Big Brother, could answer. Who is your favourite 20th Century dictator?

A simple question you may think- I e-mailed as many celebrities as I could think of, including Dave Benson Phillips, Noel Edmonds, Jeremy Spake, Jim Davidson, Richard Littlejohn, and various BBC Correspondents. The sort of people students would have put on a t-shirt or claim to be “obsessed” with, in order to be ironic. Excellently, I got a few replies too.

Paul Daniels

That’s right- I got a reply from Britain’s most famous ring-wing illusionist. What did he say? “Tony Blair… but he isn’t my favourite… I like democracy better“.

Oooh, controversial, Paul.

Mark Mardell

The BBC’s excellent Europe Editor. I was delighted to receieve this detailed reply:

“Hi well I’d have to say I have an intense disloike of dictators : not just because its the obvious thing to say but because I have an intate distaste for peoploe who try to boss others around and if they do it on a country wide scale and can’t be removed by the popular vote that is even worse.

Given that caveat I’d plump for D’Annunzio who marched on the town of Fiume, now in Croatia, and ruled it for several months in 1920.. He was an inspriation to Musolini.But this vain, heroic poet lays bare the esenticaly clownish adolescnet core that lies at the heart of Facism..

scuse spelling i am try ing to ty[pe on a bed because my wife is on the main computer !”

Fantastically obscure choice, and one that doesn’t fall into the trap of letting me write the headline “Minor celebrities like Hitler” (like, erm, I was hoping). Mark’s cool, despite the unpleasant mental image of him in bed.

Andy Crane

I also e-mailed Andy Crane, of the broom cupboard, Bad Influence, and local Manchester television news fame. He didn’t have a favourite, but did send me a nice reply:

“Hello James,

Firstly, thanks for the description as influential!

Secondly, I’m afraid no dictators feature on my list of favourite people.

Good luck with your survey.

Regards,

Andy Crane”

I feel a bit guilty getting nice replies after sending slightly tongue-in-cheek e-mails to public figures who must have better things to do with their time. This said, I did e-mail all of the UKIP MEPs to see what their least favourite colour jellybaby was. I was hoping that at least one of them would say that they “don’t like blacks”. Unfortunately, only Godfrey Bloom replied with this gem:

“I hate jelly babies. I am a chocolate person which is why I am fat. Pocklington Town Under 14 rugby squad are jelly baby addicts!”

If you can think of any other celebrities I can exploit, comment below and I’ll try my best.

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Newsletter
April 29th, 2006 at 23:56

As you may or may not have noticed, a new feature has appeared underneath the ad-banner. I’m attempting to start a mailing list.

Why? So I can harvest your e-mail addresses and sell them on to companies offering “cheap meds” and the chinese bouncy castle company that keep e-mailing me (seriously- they also make surfboards).

My theory is that it’ll keep you informed on the latest posts on this blog, as well as offer some sort of post-publishing analysis. I might even throw in some “bonus” content that you don’t get on the blog… and I know how appealing that sounds!

So if a regular blog checking routine, subscribing to the RSS feed, or knowing me in person isn’t enough, now you can even have James O’Malley in your inbox! So go on, sign up, tell your friends, tell your parents, write to celebrities and tell them if you must.

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Armed and harmless
April 29th, 2006 at 23:10

I was discussing with JD how long we’d last if we were conscripted in another world war. JD reckoned we’d last about ten minutes, but I think the jury’s still out on it. I mean, assuming I can’t register quickly enough to be a consciencious objector (as opposed to a careless and slapdash objector?), surely I’ve played enough computer games and watched enough TV to know the basics of being cannon fodder?

• Military sign language: you raise your fist parallel to your head to say “stop”, your hand, with fingers spread widely over your face means ambush, and karate chopping motions mean direction. Crying means that you’re surrounded by the enemy and have no hope of survival (Band of Brothers)
• Divide your men (I’d be a sergeant or corporal or something) into two teams, calling them “Alpha” and “Bravo”- you name all of the baddies “Tango” (Full spectrum warrior)
• Move and shoot, move and shoot, move and shoot (Alan Partridge)
• Right click to zoom in on your enemies, and F5 to save just before any difficult bits (MOHAA)
• Humiliate POWs to win the hearts and minds (Abu Gharib and Abu Gharib 2: The Empire takes photographs)
• You and your enemies take it in turns to attack, which makes the pacing more easy to handle (Shattered Union)
• You’ll never run out of ammunition (Quake)
• I won’t know what the terrain is like if I havn’t already walked over the area once (Most real time strategy games)
• Keep an eye out for big numbers, as they indicate how many landmines are surrounding you (Minesweeper)

Bring on the war!

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Garnier loves smoking too
April 26th, 2006 at 21:46

It was nice to see my local MP, Edward Garnier, on the front bench today sitting next to David Davies, whilst Charles Clarke did his “don’t hate me, please”, speech after Prime Minister’s Questions. Shame about him being a Tory, though.

Reminded of Garnier’s existence, I thought I’d check up on him, and I took a look at the register of member’s interests- the bit where MPs write down when they’ve been given free stuff. Take a look at this:

• “6 December 1999, a day’s shooting at Luton Hoo as a guest of the Tobacco Manufacturers’ Association. (Registered 8 December 1999)”
• “15 January 2001, a day’s shooting and overnight accommodation for my wife and me, near Kelso, as the guest of the Tobacco Manufacturers’ Association. (Registered 18 January 2001)”
• “5 December 2001, a day’s pheasant shooting in Bedfordshire as the guest of the Tobacco Manufacturers’ Association. (Registered 10 December 2001)”
• “7 July 2002, my wife and I were guests of Imperial Tobacco at the Men’s Finals at Wimbledon. (Registered 15 July 2002)”
• “2 October 2002, a day’s shooting in Bedfordshire as the guest of the Tobacco Manufacturers’ Association. (Registered 8 October 2002)”
• “26 September 2003, a day’s shooting in Bedfordshire as a guest of the Tobacco Manufacturers’ Association. (Registered 6 January 2003)”

(Source: Here)

Wow, the Tobacco industry really love Edward. I wonder how they’d feel if the public smoking ban got through? I’m sure they wouldn’t be too happy if their friend Eddie voted to damage their industry. I wonder how Garnier voted on the smoking ban?

Have a look at this.

It would appear that Edward has been voting against the policy of a “total smoking ban”, and has voted against it four times, and has been mysteriously absent during two votes.

Its nice to see that Mr Garnier is doing what’s best for his friends in the Tobacco industry- I wouldn’t to see them have a bit of a falling out!

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The Jukebox
April 26th, 2006 at 20:03

I drove into Leicester last night for the second time, with Bouff and JD, to go to a studenty pub or two. Yeah, my life is just one long party.

In terms of driving, it was alright- even navigating the inner-ring-road was okay, apart from some last minute lane changes, which probably broke a few traffic laws. At least my driving was better than another car we saw on the way back- it ran a red light and the camera watching it flashed to take photos. It was excellent.

We got to my university’s area, and I realised that I might have to park at some point. This terrified me as the only parking I’ve done in the past has been either on the drive at home or in a car park where I could just drive over two spaces so that I’m facing outwards again. The only space we could see was on the side of a road, and a space that I’d have to parallel park to get into. Terrified, I got Bouff to get out and watch from the pavement, and I put the car into reverse. I waited until the back of the car had passed the car in front of the space before going into a full left-hand-lock. When the road had disappeared out of the back window and Bouff’s trampled corpse was causing the car to raise up from the ground in an irregular way, I went back into a right-hand-lock and the car was in. Textbook. I even made the cars in front and behind a little more sporty by compressing them a bit.

I’m aware that last paragraph is probably the most tedious parallel parking anecdote you’ve ever read, but it’s the only way I can really communicate my joy at successfully doing this. Much like the surrounding cars literally were (wern’t), I was figuratively on fire.

We went to The Graduate, which you may or may not remember from when I went to see Robin Ince. In the graduate, there an amazing jukebox. It’s hooked up to iTunes or something, and as such has access to practically every song, ever made, ever. So we set ourselves the challenge: who can play the most unbearable or obscure music to everyone in the pub?

We managed to get the following played:

• Vicious Battle Raps by DJ Format
• Straight Edge by Minor Threat
• The introduction music to Planet of The Apes, which is essentially just sound effects
• Ante Up by Bane

And best of all, The Only Good Fascist is a dead Fascist by Propagandhi. Aside from the excellent tune and lyrics (”Swastikas and clan robes, sexist, racist, homophobes!”), the version on the jukebox had about two minutes of telephone-quality spoken word rambling about politics either side of the one minute song.

Everytime a new song came on, all of the other patrons got up and went over to the jukebox to see what the hell was playing. The plan for next time is to get some of the (eighteen minute) background music from The Matrix playing. Or Format’s Il Culinary Behaviour. I won’t rest until the whole pub is deserted because the music is so unbearably obscure/left wing.

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Heggs Update
April 26th, 2006 at 01:19

As you may or may not know, my friend Heggs is off on a gap year in Belize. This update is serving as a cheap plug for the blog I’m keeping on his behalf. Let’s be honest, he’s having more of an adventure than I ever will.

Click this for updates on the Heggspedition!

I will now try and cheapen this blog entry further by listing my five favourite money saving tips:

• Don’t buy things you don’t need.
• Stealing things is cheaper than paying for them.
• Don’t pay for drinks in pubs, instead explain to your friends how you did all of the driving. Even if you walked.
• Collect Nectar points on everything.
• Don’t spend thousands of pounds going on a gap year yourself- just blog about someone else’s and live in their reflected glory.

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The Musician
April 25th, 2006 at 19:34

I had an unusual evening last night- having just completed Pass Plus, I got a text from JD, and long and tedious story short, we ended up going to an open-mic night at a “musical pub” called The Musician. Spoiler: I wasn’t the one using the “open mic”. I didn’t do any singing or playing of instruments due to a complete and utter lack of talent. I did contemplate trying a spoken-word version of Killing in the Name, but gave up when I realised that I didn’t know the lyrics. And that it involved standing up and perhaps even a gentle walk.

Speaking of a complete and utter lack of talent, the woman on the stage when we got there had no band behind her, and it was just her “singing” some songs she had written. The trouble was that her songs required some instrumental parts, so that she had to sing the “la la la” bits herself. The lyrics wern’t great either- she used obvious rhymes and and the lines were either a few syllables too long, or too short. The songs were so long and rambling, she had to read them from a piece of paper, and the “flow” of the song was incredibly choppy because she kept stopping to read the line, then sing it, then consult the paper again. It’s hard to get across just how awful she was, but it was like watching one of the “audition” programmes on Pop Idol (erm, based on what, erm, I read in the erm, Guardian or something. Cough). I think she was doing parody songs, because one of the songs included the phrase “I made my anus wider”. I hope it was a parody song.

But at least she was having a go and trying, much like Complex Trout, or Richard Littlejohn. ‘Trout and “Captain Bigot” wern’t there, of course, I’m just using them in an analogy.

I think it was at this point I felt slightly out of my depth- surrounded by musicians and people who appreciate “classier” music than HORSE the Band. And it turned out that a glass of Coke costs £2.20. No, really.

Whilst staring at the stage and the large logo painted behind it I realised what an excellent name “Music Ian” would be for a one-man-band named “Ian”. Getting the domain would be tricky, though.

The “MC” explaining how he wanted the audience to be quiet as people “sing from the soul” was the point where it got a little too pretentious, I think.

It was alright though. There was a bloke on a guitar and a bloke on a saxophone who played what would make ace background music.

Most of the other acts were “guitar and singing and emotions and that” - essentially emo but without the drums and self-harm. I was after something a bit more heavyweight myself- perhaps say, a song about American police involvement with the KKK, or about the prison system, the prison system of the United States.

The trouble with watching live music is that I never know what to “do” whilst the musician is playing- I’ve got too much dignity to do something like nod my head, tap my feet, or hand jive. In the end I settled with sitting perfectly still, not daring to move in case it could be interpretted as participating, with an expressionless face. The whole room was in darkness aside from the stage and the area at the back where I was sitting- no doubt I inspired the people on stage to play on loudly and with 200% effort.

Overall it was a good evening- fingers crossed I’m going to see some more live music later in the week, hopefully of the more shouty punk variety.

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Rage Against the Quiz Machine
April 22nd, 2006 at 23:54

I went to a pub again this evening. Shocking, I know, but I tend to go to pubs quite often these days, despite being (in all but name) straightedge. I even like Minor Threat.

It was the only pub in town that has a quiz machine. Unfortunately, it is also the quietest pub. Of the five or six times I’ve been there, it has never had more than three groups of people already there. I think the only way they’re staying in business is because people like me are pumping pound coins into the quiz machine.

Whilst we were having a game of pool, a woman was playing on the quiz machine, playing a game called “Pub Quiz”- essentially it was “answer questions on a different topic each round and win money”.

She was thick as shit. At first I just thought that geography and history weren’t her forté- not knowing that Zanzinia isn’t an African country is perhaps excusable, but she was also terrible at the more dumbed down rounds. “‘Use the force’… what’s that from?!”, she yelled to her boyfriend. It ended up with me and JD chipping in with the answer because it was too painful to watch her struggle. Even I was telling her the answers to the pop music questions before she’d even finished reading it.

By the time she’d moved on to playing the Who Wants to be a Millionaire? game on the machine, she was being strangely insistent that Hull was built on the Bosphorus, despite my repeated telling her otherwise (Istanbul).

I know this makes me sound a bit like an elitist as I know a bit about geography (Lapland is in Scandinavia, and not Scotland), but this woman really was rubbish- she failed the pronounce even the most common words correctly. Or as she might say, “curroctly”. Her winning £4 was largely due to mine and JD’s help.

To top this off, at around quarter-past ten, she stormed out of the pub following an argument with her boyfriend. From what I could over-hear from their loud conversation was that her best friend had tried to “approach” him. Or something. I’d hate to think that my superior trivia knowledge precipitated this argument (”How can you know less about political geography than him… and you call yourself a man?”), but he didn’t seem too pleased that two smart-mouth kids were out-trivia-ing his brain that actually lived through some of the events that questions were about.

When they’d left, JD and myself decided to have a go on the quiz machine ourselves. Unfortunately, I only had a £20 note, and given the choice of actually having to talk to the bar-monkey or use the helpfully provided note-slot in the machine, I let the machine take the note. I was expecting the machine to change it into coins, which I could then put in again at my leisure.

“Whir! Buzz!”, the machine said, and “Credit: £20.00″ appeared on the screen. Fuck.

How was I going to explain to my parents that I’d spent £20 on a quiz machine? How was I going to explain to my friends what I’d done? How was I going to justify it to people who once respected me? I think JD will confirm that there was a genuine look of fear on my face.

There wasn’t a “collect” button, or a piece of plastic you could push to get your coins returned. I was terrified. Was I really going to have to play forty games of Trivial Pursuit whilst simultaneously being the only person in the pub. The latter fact was embarassing in itself- the staff were all standing near the bar tapping their feet as if to say “Get out of our pub, it’s half past ten on a Saturday and we want to close”. And here I was- preparing to play a quiz so many times, that I’d probably see the same questions multiple times.

We asked the barmonkey if she had a key or something that could get me my money back. She claimed that it’s all controlled by an outside company, but I knew she was really thinking about when she gets paid when her shift ends. No doubt the manager opens the quiz machine and pays his staff in pound coins, as it’s the only part of the business that is actually turning a profit.

So it began. I selected Trivial Pursuit and had mixed success- the sports wedge had already been completed, but after collecting a few, I got entertainment or something equally impossible. Needless to say I lost. “At least I’ve got 39 more chances”, I thought.

The most wonderful thing happend- on heading back to the main game-selection menu, in the top right hand corner, a lovely “collect” button had suddenly emerged. Cautious that it could disappear any second, I punched the screen and was greeted by the sound of falling money. My money. My lovely £19.50. I think the last time I was this relieved was when I discovered I’d passed my driving test. I think this would be more significant if I’d passed my driving test more than three weeks ago. It was nice though, “winning” £19.50. I’d practically broken even.

Helping a moron and having a disagreement with some advanced technology. It’s almost as if I’m living the life of a Doctor Who.

Comments(15)

Hustler II
April 22nd, 2006 at 01:36

I’ve just been to the pub with JD, Fundar and Andy. It’s a nicer pub than the one I used to go- it had a relatively friendly atmosphere, the paintwork was largely intact, and the customers were not just four old drunks sitting at the bar. There were perhaps 40 moderately drunk people of varying age instead.
After enduring watching Fundar play on the pinball machine for what felt like hours, I’d put in a pound for three games, and had only played the one. The theory was that I’d go back to it after having a break to have a drink and discussion about Berlusconi with my friends. Unfortunately, a freeloader man of perhaps his mid-thirties came along and used my two extra credits- I daren’t say otherwise.

After a few minutes he turned around to our table, which was strategically positioned between the pinball machine, the women’s toilets and the sewage pipe which used to be outdoors until they built an extension, and wanted to know if we’d participate in a bet. His first offer was £10 if Fundar could beat him at pinball- seeing that he’d scored a tiny amount on my two credits, it sounded like a good idea.

However, we were slightly smarter than this- the last time we were hustled (though at pool), the hustler had acted dumb, not knowing how to put money into the machine, or set the balls up, up until the point where we declined the bet… then he cleared the table. I think this latest hustler was merely playing badly to try and encourage us to bet.

After Fundar continued to refuse his offers, he changed his tune- “I’ll take your watch if I win, or I’ll give you £200″. After much laugher, and challenging him as to whether he did actually have £200, he produced a wad of £20 notes out of his back pocket. He was either a career hustler, a crook, or someone who is reasonably well paid. In cash.

Fundar wasn’t having any of it- continual refusal to bet lead the man to frustration. “£200 says the next person to walk through that door is a women”. Needless to say, this bet wasn’t agreed to, as the hustler obviously had some sort of stooge just waiting to walk in.
Minutes later the door swung open to reveal a man, who got a huge cheer from our table (well, the other three), and directly pointed at by Fundar. The look of bewilderment on the innocent man’s face was obvious.

Later in the evening we moved to the nice part of the pub, the part that wasn’t near the toilets, now that less people were there. From our new seats we could see the hustler, this time playing the fruit machine and winning. He soon came over to us again, whilst we were looking through the Daily Express for references to Princess Diana (there were seven), and he said to Fundar, “a five says there’s a bird [woman] on the next page”, followed by the slightly more bizarre “£200 says the next person to walk through that door is a woman… if you lose, you shave off all of your hair”.

I think he was a bit of a nutter.

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A year of blogging
April 20th, 2006 at 15:44

On April 19th 2005, I started a blog. At the time, I had a great deal of contempt for the blogging concept, being a relatively old-skool webmaster who prefers to code his own things, and not wanting to publicise the fact that I was a raving egomaniac.

I was determined from the start that this wouldn’t turn into one of those “Oh, I’ve got feelings and I’m so sad all of the time. Only My Chemical Romance can understand me now!” sort of blogs. I’ve also tried to remain “accessible” for people who don’t know me in real life- I didn’t want to the blog to turn into a stream of conciousness and lacks any sort of punctuation. The sort of thing that if it were written in a traditional paper diary (or Russian) would probably have backwards letters. Have a look at the MSN Space for anyone on your contact list to see what I mean.
“so like i went 2 the pub with jd and dundas and we got so pissed i was like omfg ur so pissed dundas and he thinks sex offenders shud b allowed to teach kidz and i told him 2 fuck off bcos of a running joke”

I think I’m essentially the 21st century’s Anne Frank. Obviously I’d be more street-smart and cunning than Anne. If asked by an angry German man with a gun, I’d just say I’m a Christian, but I’ve only got as far as the old testament so far.

But that’s enough of criticising my competitors and victims of a genocide. What has this blog achieved, that’s positive and happy and that, in the past year?

• I carried out a survey for the blog that was featured on a major political blog, B3ta, and a real life Newspaper: Wales on Sunday.
• Erm…
• That’s it.

So what posts have you, my loyal readers, enjoyed the most? What do you want to see me do more of? What jokes can I keep repeating until they’re no longer funny?

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