Posts from September 2009

This morning I commuted, Reggie Perrin style, from my leafy suburb into the heart of London by train. Nothing too unusual about that.

After I paid for my daily travelcard, I took my place on an unusually crowded platform. An unusually crowded platform normally means only one thing. An lengthy delay inevitably followed by an overcrowded, late running train.

Sure enough, I soon gathered that there had been a fatality on this section of the railway line last night which caused major delays and now had a knock-on effect to this morning.

Naturally enough, I didn't hear this update from South West Train staff at the ticket booth or over the loudspeaker system. Instead I heard this important travel status update from a gentleman in a smart, grey suit (and not so smart white trainers) giving a blow by blow account to his secretary, Julie.

The gentleman spoke with such a loud, clear authoritative voice, I took the opportunity to thank him and suggested that he should get a job as a station announcer. Thankfully, the delays didn't inconvenience him that much as his first meeting was only at 10:30a.m - a catch up on the Q3 numbers with Brian and Phil.

A train arrived. It was already overcrowded with standing room only. Everyone attempted to pile on and most of them succeeded. I stood to one side and watched the melee with a few other commuters who didn't fancy standing for half an hour, uncomfortably positioned, face to face, desperately trying to avoid bodily contact with a young lady's breasts or worse, with your head positioned directly under someone's sweaty armpits.

Two minutes later, another train arrived. It was empty. Gleefully, we all boarded and took our choice of seats in the empty carriages.

The train set off - it didn't stop at New Malden and it didn't stop at Raynes Park. Even better, it turns out that we are on a fast service that only stops at Wimbledon, Clapham Junction and Vauxhall. Only this train didn't stop at Wimbledon. Nor did it stop at Earlsfield. It just sailed straight through both stations at great speed.

We also sailed straight past Clapham Junction (the busiest railway station in England) which was a surprise to a couple of people who had got up and stood by the doors, hoping to disembark. I spotted the earlier train packed to the rafters with yet more people trying to board, politely enquiring in a very British way: 'Could you possibly move down inside the carriage - possibly - at all ?'

Back on our train, no-one got off (even if they wanted to), no-one got on and no-one spoiled the blissfully quiet environment with their mobile phones and discarding their copies of 'Metro' so I was able to enjoy my high speed journey, listening to 'Boxer' by The National, in a virtually empty carriage.

As we approached the final destination (Waterloo) I was slightly worried I was sitting on a ghost train with no driver at the controls. Briefly, I wondered whether we were, in fact, even going to stop at Waterloo or simply plough straight on through the buffers into the station concourse, killing 34 people who were staring blankly at the 'Departures' board.

We arrived at Waterloo and thankfully stopped at platform 4. The journey which is normally timetabled to take 29 minutes and normally takes closer to 35 was over. In a new world record of 18 minutes.

Last Friday, Norman Junior III emerged from his bedroom, looked mournfully at me and pronounced in a quiet voice: Dad - Ive got the three red rings of death.

'Just have an aspirin and sit down quietly for a bit. Your mum will be back soon.'

'No Dad - not me. It's my XBox. It has the dreaded three red rings of death and won't boot.'

And so we embarked on a prolonged saga that involved a fruitless hunt for a two year old receipt that revealed plenty of interesting long lost items but not the actual receipt from Game.

Then I contacted Microsoft about the prospect of repairing a faulty console that was out of warranty and had subsequently fallen by £100 in price.

Much to my surprise, Microsoft told me that, for this specific hardware fault, the warranty had been extended to three years.

Microsoft checked the date of manufacture from the serial number, confirmed the box was eligible for the extended warranty and asked me to courier the faulty console, free of charge, back to their service centre in Frankfurt, near Germany for repair.

Microsoft sent me the necessary paperwork to ship the XBox to Germany using UPS. In turn, UPS sent me a package label, invoice, receipt and an export certificate.

I then booked an appointment with UPS to collect the games console at my convenience.

And all of this was accomplished without speaking to a single human being - except for Norman Junior III who is doing well and making a fine recovery after going 'Cold Turkey' from Call Of Duty.

It all sounds too good to be true...

Not in my lifetime.

I have experimented at various times with both Tumblr and Posterous which are hosted blog services. I tend to view them as useful services for a scrapbook style blog, a linkblog, a lifestream or even a fully fledged blog. If I was starting a blog today, I would probably use one or the other.

Posterous, in particular, has been getting a lot of coverage recently and I like the ease of use, the 'Post by Email' facility and continue to follow developments with interest.

I often describe Posterous as a 'blog for people who don't want a blog'. For example, Uncle Harry doesn't even know what a blog is and certainly doesn't need a blog. However, Uncle Harry is also perfectly capable of attaching photos of his sailing holiday in Greece and emailing them to his daughter, brother, wife, friends and colleagues. He could do this using Posterous and, lo and behold, without even knowing it, he now has a blog.

Posterous is a hosted blog service and until recently, was limited to a single, universal theme. This didn't particularly bother me as I quite liked the plain, minimal looking Posterous design.

I also felt the default Posterous theme actually helped to reinforce the Posterous 'brand'. Whenever you encountered a Posterous blog, you could immediately recognise it as such.

However, custom themes were a frequently requested enhancement by (potential) users so Posterous have finally added support for your own themes including pre-built designs, custom header images, full HTML customisation and interestingly, the use of Tumblr themes.

Now I suspect that supporting 'Tumblr' style themes out of the box was a master stroke. Posterous users immediately have a wealth of pre-built, attractive looking themes available off the shelf, free of charge.

Tumblr have even helpfully created a theme repository for Posterous users. You just find a Tumblr theme you like, copy and paste the HTML, dump it into Posterous and you're done.

You now have a lovely, stylish professional looking Posterous blog that looks identical to a lovely, stylish professional looking Tumblr blog.

I love the way TechCrunch uses the the term 'leverage' to describe the addition of this (almost seamless - some blocks are not supported) integration with the Tumblr theme engine.

Of course, all themes are just HTML and CSS but I can't help wondering whether the Tumblr development team and their own band of loyal and passionate users feel quite the same way about this wonderful, new addition from Posterous.

Spontaneously.

Do you think we used enough dynamite there, Butch ?

I believe Michael Shields is guilty of attempted murder by dropping a paving slab on a Bulgarian waiters head, putting him in a coma for 4 days.

I find it worrying and bizarre that Jack Straw sees fit to grant Michael Shields a 'Royal Pardon' in the light of an 'oral confession' made by another individual when Shields' parents just happened to pay him a visit.

Particularly, when Jack Straw was fully aware of this information when Shields returned to serve out the rest of his sentence in England back in 2006 and rejected an appeal as recently at 2 July 2009.

I believe that the Bulgarian authorities correctly discounted the written confession of Graham Sankey, made way back in July 2005 from the safety of England, on the condition that he didn't stand trial.

Michael Shields was involved in football related violence. He should be serving 15 years in jail for a vicious, unprovoked attack. He should not be feted in the press as a gallant returning war hero. He should not be allowed to attend another football match and should be the subject of a banning order that prevents him from travelling abroad.

But he won't. Michael Shields will be leading the team out at Liverpool's next home fixture and leading the singing of 'You'll never walk alone.'

I don't know how the friends and family of Martin Georgiev feel but I feel sick to my stomach and ashamed to be British.

Andy Murrays hopes of lifting his first major were thwarted by defeat yesterday in the last 16 of the US Open to Croat, Marin Cilic.

I like Andy Murray. I don't think he's a dour individual. I think he's a very talented tennis player who is focused and determined. I admire the fact he coped with being sent to live in Spain at the age of 15 to improve his tennis.

Occasionally, I have even stalked him by scanning his Twitter stream. Yes, it's genuine.

I'm not a pathetic 'Little Englander' who hates Andy Murray simply because he once said 'anyone but England' on radio 5 during the 2006 World Cup. I thought it was a funny response during an amusing exchange of banter with the interviewer, fellow Scot Nicky Campbell, and his English friend, Tim Henman. Each and every one of my Scottish friends would have said precisely the same thing.

Since my own lad started playing junior tennis at a competitive level, my admiration for what Murray has already achieved (No.2 in the world) has increased ten fold. However, the real reason I believe Andy Murray will win a major tennis tournament in the not too distant future stems from an incident a couple of years ago.

I was watching my son play in a junior Surrey tennis competition held at the National Tennis Centre in Roehampton. I was walking around the 22 courts, admiring the excellent facilities and killing time before he played his first match.

I walked along a balcony overlooking four, immaculate indoor courts. Andy Murray was warming up with his coaching team. They were playing keepy-uppy with a tennis ball and generally messing around. As word got round the complex that Murray was present, a small crowd of aspiring young tennis players and their doting parents gathered to watch.

I was surprised at the sheer number of people in the Murray entourage. After ditching Brad Gilbert, Murray now employs Miles Maclagan (coach), Matt Little (strength and conditioning coach), Jez Green (physical conditioner) and Andy Ireland (physio).

Once the warmup was complete, the laughter stopped and Murray started doing serious tennis drills. He was rallying from the baseline with his coach. I watched in awe as he repeatedly and monotonously hit shots from the baseline low and hard over the net.

Each shot was powerful and landed just within the baseline or even on the line. I soon realised that that's why tennis players knock up (or 'hit') with fellow professionals. Most mortals or even decent club players would be incapable of taking part in this drill.

Murray continued his exercises. He didn't acknowledge the people watching. In fact, I'm pretty sure he wasn't even aware of our presence. He was solely focused on hitting that ball.

Another rally started. Murray continue to hit ball after ball low and hard over the net. Occasionally, he'd readjust his position to reach to a shorter or wider shot but he kept on returning the ball. Slowly but surely, the pace of the rally and the variety of shots increased. Now Murray was exerting himself but he kept on hitting balls back like a machine - low and hard, each shot just skimming over the net at great speed.

Finally, the rally came to an end when Murray netted a baseline shot. He shouted 'Oh - for fuck's sake. COME ON !'.

Some of the parents assembled on the balcony looked aghast and told Jocasta to shield her ears from such Scottish profanity and gently suggested it was time to get a drink while I just continued to watch on in admiration.

UEFAs decision to ban Arsenals Eduardo for two matches after diving in a Champions League qualifier creates a precedent, a very dangerous precedent. This may well result in revisionism, the rewriting of football history and airbrushing Ashley Cole out of the 2003 Shoot Soccer Annual.

I forecast the following events which will have unexpected and dire repercussions for the game:

• Mexico 1986. Maradona's infamous 'Hand of God' goal is ruled out and England win the World Cup. The finest football anthem ever, Baddiel and Skinner's 'Three Lions' never gets written; 'Ten years of hurt' just doesn't scan.
• The award of Wayne Rooney's penalty that halted Arsenal's unbeaten run is declared 'unsafe'. Arsenal's 'Invincibles' subsequently extend their unbeaten run by a further 20 matches. Fanzine writers universally rejoice at 'The Immortal 69'ers'.
• Chelsea, Arsenal and Liverpool mount a joint appeal against Cristiano Ronaldo. UEFA reduce his tally of 84 goals in 196 Premiership appearances to just 3 goals in 27 starts for 'simulation, posturing and ball hogging.' UEFA conduct a detailed simulation of their own using Championship Manager on networked PS3's. United are relegated and jostle for top spot with Leeds in Division One
• Richard Dunne of Manchester City receives a lifetime ban for attempting to 'deceive a referee' by impersonating a Premiership footballer. Questions are also raised in betting circles at his general ineptitude yet contrasting displays of brilliant, solid defending in every single Manchester derby.
• Gerard Houlier is sectioned under the mental Health Act before he utters the immortal words 'Ten games from greatness'. He watches 'Pink Panther' incessantly and practises violent martial arts with William Gallas every Thursday. Later appears in a cameo in 'Kill Bill Vol. 2'. Currently in rehab and guesting on 'Soccer Saturday' alongside Phil Thompson.

On Saturday night, BBC2 broadcast a retrospective on The Office and broadcast all of Series 1 together with soundbites from the creators (Ricky Gervais, Stephen Merchant), the cast (Martin Freeman, Mackenzie Crook, Lucy Davis) and celebrity fans (Ben Stiller, Christopher Guest, Matthew Perry, David Baddiel, Richard Curtis).

My favourite episode of Series 1 is 'Staff Training' for all the normal reasons and for this rendition of 'Free love on the free love freeway' - I just love the harmonising from Gareth at 1:24 ('She's not dead').