They would probably produce Bryan Devendorf of The National.
All things considered, I'm very glad I'll be witnessing The National live again at the Brixton Academy on Wednesday 1 December.
A tragic story is unfolding in the North of England with a gunman on the run after killing one person and seriously injuring two more (his ex-girlfriend and a traffic policeman) following his release from prison last Friday.
Obviously, the police are doing everything to apprehend Raoul Moat safely without any further loss of life. However, as Moat claims he has ‘lost everything' and is determined to ‘wage war on the police', it's not clear this episode will reach a peaceful conclusion.
On Tuesday, the town of Rothbury was locked down; a two mile exclusion zone was put in place, schools were closed and residents were told to stay indoors as Northumbria police thought they were closing in on the armed and dangerous suspect.
However, two days later, Moat is still on the loose so the town of Rothbury has now been reopened with a very visible police presence on the streets.
I'm not sure how I would have felt popping to the corner shop for a newspaper and a pint of milk, to find policemen stood at every corner given Moat's declaration to ‘keep killing police until I am dead'. Far from being reassuring, this police presence would probably scare me even more.
‘Norma, love - you couldn't just pop out and get some milk, could you ? Thanks.'
The British media may have given the impression in recent weeks that we considered the German national tootball team to be a rather workmanlike, efficient, collection of young talent coupled with experienced internationals but lacking in imagination and devoid of much creative talent.
Some less respected elements of the British media may have given the impression that England's recent, comprehensive 4–1 defeat by Germany was somehow a freak result that was purely the result of a refereeing error that denied England an equaliser.
However, after Germany's dismantling of Argentina and yet another comprehensive 4–0 thrashing of Diego Maradona's team packed full of world class striking talent, we are pleased to correct our previous error and apologise for any offence caused.
We now acknowledge that Germany are the best footballing nation in the World, rivalling the wonderful Brazil size of 1970.
We would like to issue a heartfelt apology to Bastian Schweinsteiger for all those silly jokes we made about the translation of his name (‘Pig Porker').
We would like to retract fully the ‘Typical Germans' comment made by a certain Sir Alex Ferguson of Stretford, near Manchester after Bayern Munich had eliminated Manchester United from the Champions League.
We would also like to offer a fulsome 100% apology to Miroslav Klose who has now equalled the number of goals scored in World Cup tournaments by Gerd Muller. We withdraw fully the thinly veiled, insane accusation that Emile Heskey would somehow produce more goals during this tournament.
We also would like to clarify the endless piss taking about the oh so stylish blue polo neck shirts sported by the German manager, Joachim Low. The blue polo neck sweater is a stylish fashion statement and reflects the smart, modern but casual manner of the way Germany plays the beautiful game. Contrast this with Fabio Capello's featureless, dour, stiff grey suit.
Die deutsche Fußballnationalmannschaft - World Cup semi-finalists yet again. We salute you !
But we still hate Michael Ballack.
[ Working title: Torture on a shoestring ]
A couple of weeks ago on a normal, routine Tuesday morning, I did what I do every morning; showered, prepared for work and cleaned my ears out with a cotton wool bud. As I went to leave the bathroom, I swung my arms up and around to put my dressing gown back on for the short trip down the upstairs landing.
[ This requirement to be modestly covered up follows an unfortunate incident in April 2009 when my teenage daughter had a sleepover with three friends staying over. Apparently, one poor girl can not even look at a Chipolata sausage ever again. Needless to say, I conducted my own defence and was acquitted. Again. ]
Anyway, as I simultaneously hoisted both arms up to don my long, flowing, white, silk robe adorned with ‘MUFC - Champions 2008' on the back, I felt pain. A lot of pain. Searing pain that made me feel quite dizzy. I paused for breath and suddenly realised I had inadvertently rammed a cotton wool bud, deep and hard, into my right ear.
It was so painful, I didn't even shout, exclaim or swear. Instinctively, I reached for my right ear and gingerly extracted the cotton wool bud. I felt more pain. I clasped my hand over my ear and half expected my palm to be dripping in blood. Thankfully, there was no blood - just numbing pain.
I gingerly made my way back to my bedroom and sat down as I felt quite faint. After a few minutes, the pain subsided slightly to a constant, painful throb and I was able to get up and get dressed.
I am constantly amazed at the human body's resilience and powers of natural healing so I just waited for the ear to heal. The next few days were quite interesting; the feeling was similar to what I would expect after standing adjacent to a 30 foot Marshall amp stack for the full 3 days of Glastonbury with slight loss of hearing, ringing, dull pain and various popping noises similar to the sensation you get when descending in a aircraft.
Eventually, Norma asked why I was popping Nurofen all day every day so I had to own up. As expected, she took great delight in my agony as she‘d always claimed ears were self-regulating organs and simply do not need to be cleaned daily with a blunt instrument which causes more harm than good. She showed me great sympathy by saying: 'Well, I bet it was absolutely nothing like child birth.'
I pondered on this for a while and concluded she was right - I had merely rammed a very small, narrow foreign object into the human body via a small orifice with great force whereas childbirth consists of ejecting a natural body out of the human body via a, err, slightly larger orifice with moderate force. However, I decided it might be prudent to maintain a dignified silence (in case she slapped me on the ear) and the very thought of childbirth and bodily fluids made me feel slightly queasy again.
Days passed but the pain and odd sensations didn't so I went to see my Doctor primarily as I had some concerns about flying in a plane with a perforated eardrum.
Inevitably, the consultation with my GP was livened up by me pretending not to hear when she opened up with ‘Now, Mr. Brightside, how can I help you today ?' and I responded with ‘Sorry - what did you say ?', ‘Pardon' and ‘Can you speak up a little ? I have a slight problem with my right ear.'
As I sheepishly confessed to my idiotic, self-inflicted act of stupidity, the Doctor listened attentively and nodded knowingly - 'Don't worry Mr. Brightside. I've seen people who've inserted all sorts of things into all sorts of, err, irregular, places.'
Fair play to the lady GP. She immediately grabbed her menacing ear probe with the triangular metal end and integrated torchlight and responded with ‘OK then, let's have a good look in 'ere' and the odd ‘Ooh - what have we 'ere ?'.
She gently inserted her probe (soft porn SEO keyword search alert) and promptly reported the ear was too inflamed to see whether the ear drum was intact or perforated. She reassured me (sort of) by saying the cabin pressure in a plane wouldn't be an issue if the eardrum was perforated as the air would simply ‘whistle straight through the hole'.
She then asked me if I had any other specific worries or questions and I replied ‘Not really - it's mainly the prospect of flying. Oh and I did want to ask you about the leaking brain fluid…' ‘Brain fluid ?', she interjected in a serious tone. ‘Yes - when I wake up my pillow has all this yellow/brown-ish liquid where my head's been resting and my wife, who is a qualified nurse, told me it was just my 'brain fluid' leaking out.'
‘Well - with respect, I think your wife might be mistaken or having a little joke. I'm pretty sure this is just residual fluid from the inflamed area as the body recovers but I'll prescribe you some antibiotics which will help clear up the infection.'
The ear is now almost completely healed. I have thrown away the bumper pack of 240 ear buds although my right earbud now keeps falling out on when I listen to music on the train.
The memory of the ‘ear drum' incident is now receding but I'm pretty sure intelligence agencies and the military could use this technique to produce a cheaper and much more efficient form of torture. Waterboarding is well publicised and effective but can get very messy and is very wasteful of a precious natural resource.
Imagine, in the next James Bond film, the baddie enters the interrogation cell armed - not with a large belt or a car battery and two electrical diodes - but simply brandishing a single cotton wool bud.
I am about to embark on migrating this blog from WordPress to Django-Mingus because I simply cant stand the WordPress Compose Post interface (if you can call it that).
This exciting move comes less than two weeks after I spontaneously decided to ditch Habari after the lack of a functional 'Auto-Save' plugin caused me to lose 17 minutes work.
You may say 'I'm reading this in my preferred RSS reader so please don't bother me with such minutiae'.
However, when I migrated from Habari to WordPress a month ago, I flooded you both with my most recent posts duplicated so this is just prior warning that similar oddness may well occur as I endeavour to hook up the new blog feed to FeedBurner.
This may or may not signal a period of blog hopping and I'd like to say this ~~will~~ may trigger a series of interesting posts about which blogging platforms I considered and discarded and top tips on planning and executing an efficient blog migration.
Accidentally.
For the last two weeks, I have been savouring the joys of commuting into the City on South West Trains and the London underground network.
Like most large, densely populated cities, Transport for London has introduced a Smart Card system, known as Oyster, which allows ticketless travel on trains, tubes and buses.
Most modern cities in the developed world have similar smart card technology resulting in a faster, more efficient transport system with cheaper fares for passengers and reduced staffing costs at railway stations.
Not London.
Last Tuesday, I disembarked at Bank underground station following a hot, sweaty, uncomfortable 5 minute journey from Waterloo surrounded by smart, professional merchant bankers wearing trainers and suits. As usual, everyone strode out purposefully to get off the train first, to reach the ticket barrier first, to climb the stairs first, to reach the blissful cool fresh air first and finally, after a interminable 6 minute loss of communication, get a decent mobile phone signal so they can immediately call the office to show how incredibly important they are: 'Will be there in 5. Passenger jumped onto live rail outside Hinchley Wood'.
I ambled slowly along (marvelling yet again at Bryan Devendorf's drumming prowess) behind a gentleman who was rapidly approaching ticket barrier No. 3. I withdrew my Zones 1-5 One Day Travel Card and politely waited for the chap to 'swipe through' (as we Cockney trainspotters call it) and proceed towards the escalators.
Only he didn't proceed because the failure rate on the Oyster card system is high. Astonishingly high. The gentleman in front of me tried to advance by waving his jacket pocket towards the card reader but, inevitably, his Oyster card wasn't recognised and nothing happened.
I was listening to The National and wasn't paying full attention so I didn't immediately notice his quandary until he gave a little yelp. In fact, he may have given two yelps. One as he rammed into a very hard and very stationary, unyielding ticket barrier. And another yelp as I rammed into him from behind with great force.
Once we'd disentangled ourselves, he started to complain that I'd physically assaulted him. I told him he shouldn't buy an Oyster card if he couldn't use the bloody thing. One of the three staff manning the ticket barriers - most countries eliminated all ticket barrier staff whereas London had to triple staff manning the station exits - separated us and a 'revenue protection officer' then rubbed salt in the wound by charging him full fare plus a £10 penalty. I looked disdainfully at his suit and then I looked down even more disdainfully at his trainers.
I duly appeared in court yesterday charged with 'Gross indecency in a public place' but, inspired by 'Judge Judy', I conducted my own legal defence, launching a magnificent counter claim of 'Inappropriate use of trainers coupled with a pinstripe suit'.
Thankfully, the judge saw sense and acquitted me after a forensic scientist gave expert testimony that the rectal injuries sustained by the gentleman may have been caused by the insertion of a tightly rolled up copy of 'The Metro' and not sexual assault.
Tuesday 1 June
Mr. Capello announces the final squad of 23 players for the World Cup. There was the odd surprise and some devastated players as we say a tearful farewell to Huddza, Johnno, the Scott-Meister, Les (Dawson), Dazza The Bender, Walcottza and the quiet one (I think his name was Leighton Baines).
Saturday 5 June
Rio and Heskey have a argument over Wii Tennis that carries over into a training match. After winning a defensive header, Rio tells Heskey 'Dunno why you're still here. I've scored more international goals than you.' Heskey retaliates by sliding in by the corner flag and sitting on Rio's left knee.
Sunday 6 June
Rio has done medial ligaments and Mr. Capello is very cross. He had put his name down for the Wii Tennis tournament and no-one told him when he was on. Mr. Baldini reads the riot act and Rio goes to hospital.
Mr. Ferguson rings me and is screaming so loud I have to hold the receiver away from my sunburnt ear. He wants me to get Emile Heskey to sit on me so I can miss the World Cup and get sent home to Manchester.
Monday 7 June
Crisis meeting mainly for the defenders but we all have to go which is a shame as I was beating Joe Hart 79-71 in a Noughts and Crosses marathon session in the hotel lobby.
A young fair haired lad called Dawson turns up. No-one really knows who is he or why he's here. I think he might be an undercover reporter or Joe Cole's agent. Anyway, Mr. Baldini says he is replacing Rio in the Wii Tennis tournament.
Mr. Capello wants to sort out the communication between the back four and the rest of the team. Rio used to call me 'Wazza', JT 'Tezza', Stevie G 'Gezza' etc so it was all quite easy. However, the young fair haired lad can't learn all these nicknames in time. Mr. Capello wants us to use 'Senor Rooney' but this takes too long. Baldini suggests shortening this to 'Rooney' which wins 20-5 in a vote.
After 37 minutes, plunged in silent, deep thought, Sean Wright-Phillips says something: "What about Joe Cole and Ashley Cole ? They will now both be called 'Cole'."
Mr. Capello is annoyed at this interruption as dinner is nearly ready and he asked for his favourite - Spaghetti Hoops - tonight so he quickly ends the discussion: 'Right - Ashley will be '55 grand' and Senor Cole will be 'Cole'.
Gareth Barry says that 'Cole' sounds a little but like 'Goal' but Mr. Baldini says that won't be a problem.
Tuesday 8 June
Papers giving me a lot of stick for reckless challenges, getting booked and telling a referee to 'Feck Off' in a friendly against John Terry's All Gold Platinum All Stars. I am summoned to a meeting with Mr. Capello and the new captain Steve Gerrard. David Beckham is also present - his main role was to coach Theo - but now he just has to check no-one is wearing flip-flops and keep Rio's spirits up.
Have a chat with Steve Gerrard and Jamie Carragher by the pool. They are a little hard to understand (even for me) but they are in high spirits. Steve reckons we can go all the way and win it this time. He keeps saying 'Listen, eh - la. Good things come in threes. Rio's injury gave me the captaincy. Rafa was sacked by Liverpool so this must mean we are going to win it and Stevie Me will lift the World Cup, instantly treble my value and get my dream move to Chelsea, sorry Real Madrid.
Hi Norman. You and I havent spoken before so please excuse the intrusion. However Sandstone Search & Selection are a specialist recruitment consultancy, focused on the Enterprise Software and Consulting markets. Im keen to find out if youre open minded about your career please let me know. Rupert Smithers-Jones
Hi Rupert. Yes - I am pretty open minded about my career and would consider anything apart from pole dancing. Norman.
Hi Norman. Excellent news ! Ping me when you have 5 minutes free to chat about an exciting opportunity. Rupert
Rupert - I typed 'ping rupert' but my computer reported an error 'rupert is not responding'. Kind regards, Norman
Norman - What would you say to an opening in pre-sales consulting for a major, established blue chip based in London with some international travel ? Rupert
Hey Rupert I don't wish to be rude but I think I'd rather be considered for the 'pole dancing' role. Do you have any such openings for tasteful pole dancing - maybe at corporate events for IT companies. Although I relatively new to the business, I do have a copy of 'The Full Monty' on DVD. Does that help ? Norman
Norman - You're confused. I'm a executive search and selection specialist charged with head hunting the most talented and elite IT professionals for the top FTSE 100 companies in the UK. I don't find temporary jobs for pole dancers. BTW What is your notice period ? Rupert
Rupert - My notice period is one month but I wouldn't be available for any new role until 1 September when I get out of hospital - Norman.
Norman - I don't wish to pry but what is the nature of your medical procedure. It might affect the package I can secure for you - Rupert.
Rupert - Please don't worry - it's just some minor surgery I'm having done in Belarus. It the fourth and final part of my transgender operation. From 1 September, I will be henceforth be known as 'Norma-Jeane'. This will most certainly affect my package and strong pain killers will be required. Do you want an updated CV now to forward to the client ? Thanks, Norman.
Norman - This conversation is now over. Sorry to have troubled you. Rupert. PS. If you know of any colleagues, relatives or numerate pets who might be interested in IT jobs, please let me know. There's a case of 12 bottles of mixed French wine on offer for each successful placement.
Rupert - please don't act like a bear with yellow trousers, red jumper and a sore head. I had a chat with my 'life coach' last night and we decided that the time is ripe for a fresh, new challenge. I need to be excited when I when I go to work. I need to be stretched (but gently). I need to be stimulated again (but gently). Therefore, I am now looking for a Linux system administration role or exotic dancing. Ideally, full time Linux Sys Admin for a charity and part-time dancing at night. The main reason for the transgender process was the increased earning potential available to female strippers. This will enable me to get enough money together for the 'pole dancing' classes. Please let me know - Norman.
Norman - My colleague David is responsible for Linux recruitment. He really likes the look of your CV and is confident he has a fantastic opportunity. Do you have a beard as this would almost certainly secure an interview ?
Yes - but only before 1 September.
After weeks of anticipation, the day finally dawned - Thursday 6 May and The Nationals concert at the Royal Albert Hall.
Ive been to the Albert Hall once before when I went to see Cirque de Soleil. On that occasion, I was wearing a jacket and tie (family birthday) and was perched precariously in the upper circle which gave me vertigo.
I had some reservations about seeing a proper concert here and had disconcerting images of posh people in dinner jackets, sitting down, politely applauding an acoustic set. Anyway, I got the tube to High St. Kensington, stopped off at the Goat Tavern for a quick drink en route.and then made my way to the famous venue next to Imperial College.
I had a brilliant seat down in the stalls to the left of the stage and thankfully although there were a few city types in suits, I didn't spot any dinner jackets or bow ties. As we waited for the band, I heard two blokes talking loudly about the logistics of getting a taxi afterwards and watched people queuing for Hagen Das ice-cream. Who said 'Rock'n'Roll' was dead ?
At 9:15pm, the various band members took the stage and opened with 'Mistaken for Strangers'. Thankfully, I think Matt sensed the slightly subdued, reserved atmosphere and came forward, urging everyone to stand up which immediately made for a much better time for everyone.
The National don't travel light on tour. The band is formed of two pairs of brothers; Aaron and Bryce Dessner (guitars), Bryan (drums) and Scott Devendorf (bass) together with with singer Matt Berninger. In addition, Padma Newsome plays violin, keyboards and, at one point,some sort of accordion contraption. The ensemble is completed by a brass section (trumpet, trombone).
Occasionally, I've tried to pinpoint why I like The National so much and the two main factors are Bryan Devendorf's metronomic, unceasing, crisp drumming (which is usually high in the mix) and Matt's thought provoking, ambiguous lyrics. As the crowd became more appreciative and vocal, the band proceeded with a brilliant set throwing in old favourites from 'Alligator' and 'Boxer' together with most of the songs from the yet to be released 'High Violet'.
Matt joked about the cavernous and imposing size of the venue ('I wrote this song in a small room like this') and then proceeded to forget the lyrics to 'Baby - we'll be fine'. He tried again before the band aborted the attempt and moved on to 'Afraid of Everyone' ('Don't worry - this is a new one and I know the lyrics').
Not surprisingly, the acoustics and sound was brilliant although a neighbour also wanted to 'turn the drums up' and the band performed two of my favourite songs ; Conversation 16' and 'Apartment Story'. Like most of Matt's lyrics, 'Conservation 16' can be interpreted in many different ways. It sounds like a love song ('You're the only thing I ever want anymore') but then savagely turns into a loveless, broken, hate-filled relationship ('I was afraid I'd eat your brains Cause I'm evil').
It's clear the band are musical perfectionists - in recent interviews the band make it clear the production process is slow, iterative and laborious and scrupulous attention is paid to every last detail. To be honest, although I like 'High Violet', I do find some songs rather bleak; 'Sorrow' in particular. In fact, at times, you find yourself reaching for Joy Division's 'Closer' in an effort to lighten the mood. However, some of the 'High Violet' material which left me lukewarm was completely transformed when performed live ('England').
Also, although I absolutely love the song, I find the lo-fi mix of 'Terrible Love' on 'High Violet' so ropey I can hardly bring myself to listen to it. Again, I read in interviews that Matt wanted to cut out all the shouting (e.g. 'Abel' on 'Alligator') and the band were also keen to create a less polished production than on 'Boxer'. Personally, I think the production and quality of 'Boxer' was so immaculate, so perfect I would have used the same studio, the same producer, the same instruments and worn the same lucky underpants.
However, Aaron seemed to deliberately favour the raw, unpolished version of 'Terrible Love'; in fact, he acknowledges that, even after the weeks of mixing, some completed 'High Violet' tracks are very close to the original demo tapes. Anyway, back to the concert and the band closed with 'Fake Empire' and returned to the stage for a magnificent encore comprising:
It was weird hearing 'Mr. November' which was used in Barack Obama's presidential campaign on election day in Britain and hearing hundreds of people screaming in unison:
I'm the new blue blood I'm the great white hope. I'm the new blue blood. I won't fuck us over, I'm Mr. November. I'm Mr. November, I won't fuck us over.
I didn't bother taking any day tripper, tourist photos but David Emery has some fantastic photos of an unforgettable night.
Jake Kuramoto from Oracle Apps Lab has a great post about common search terms for the three main search engines and notes that 'facebook.com' (and variants thereof) appear in the lists of most frequently used keywords.
Recently, I have been observing my wife who is a non-technical (Firefox) user although I must admit to a vested interest here. I am keen to understand any areas where Linux Mint is 'worse then Windows'. Over the last few weeks, I have noted the following:
The Web browser is Firefox 3.6 and the starting page is a single tab - Google.com (my choice).
This start page is minimalist in the extreme and dominates the screen. The user is instinctively drawn to this large, central area of the screen. Note to Google designers: This striking, beautiful minimalism is rather spoiled once you use the mouse.
My wife's Web session starts here. It always starts here. She might be searching for 'john lewis', 'maths revision guides', 'how to kill husband and get away with it' or 'weather london'. It is entirely logical that, if she wants to visit Facebook, she will simply hit 'Home' and initiate another 'mini-session by searching for 'facebook' (or some variant).
This may not the the quickest, optimal way of getting the job done but it's quick enough, it works and it is a learned behaviour.
I agree about search being more forgiving than typing raw text into the address bar. Google does the right thing with 'facebok' but the address bar doesn't. Don't try this experiment at work as it's potentially NSFW.
However, I think the key issue here is more about usability. The Google search page dominates the screen and the centrally placed search box dominates the Web page. Her eyes are drawn towards it. It is much harder for the brain to even consider the alternative options of 'address bar' 'search bar' or even 'Bookmarks' because these options are located at the top of the screen and are tiny in comparison - almost inconsequential. Therefore the brain has to do more work - particularly for 'Bookmarks' which nestles between 'History' and 'Tools'.
Coincidentally, I recently exposed the Bookmarks Toolbar with just two sites (Amazon, Facebook). These icons are now relatively large and easily visible and using them to quickly navigate is just a single mouse click but I don't believe she uses them. Old habits die hard perhaps.
This isn't being patronising but I don't believe she knows what the address bar is. Until recently, she didn't know what the search bar was. When I explained that the 'Google' in the bar and the magnifying class icon indicated you could search by typing into this text box, her reaction was 'Oh so it's like the Home page but smaller'. I am sure this mentality isn't unique among novice and non technical users.
She finds it confusing that the address bar takes things like 'amazon.com' (URL's) whereas the search bar takes 'amazon UK books' (search terms) and gets the two confused. Mostly this ambiguity doesn't affect the end result but it's confusing and poor UI design. Chrome addresses this nicely with a single unified bar which is exactly how it should be.
My wife often bookmarks stuff and recently complained that 'Bookmarks don't work. I can never find stuff again.' It transpired that she expected her lengthy list of Bookmarks to be listed in reverse chronological order and was unaware of the 'Recently Bookmarked' submenu. But then again, that's a extra click. Again, more work for the brain and people are lazy.
Although I am not a Web designer, I find usability and user interface design a fascinating area. I would love to conduct detailed interviews with my wife, my kids and my father to compare and contrast their usage of their respective computers.