Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Triton of the minnows
I’ll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
I went along to Shakespeare's Globe on the South Bank this evening to see a Japanese language performance of Coriolanus. It was my first time at the open-air theatre and the attendant irritations of mosquitoes and low-flying police helicopters drowning out the actors were more than offset by the price of a fiver for a standing ticket.
Coriolanus is my favourite of Shakespeare's plays for its action, its element of tragedy and - not least - its irascible hero and the stuff he shouts at other people:
SICINIUS: It is a mind
That shall remain a poison where it is,
Not poison any further.
CORIOLANUS: Shall remain!
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you
His absolute 'shall'?
...
SICINIUS: Go, call the people:
[Exit AEdile]
in whose name myself
Attach thee as a traitorous innovator,
A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer.
CORIOLANUS: Hence, old goat!
Senators, &C: We'll surety him.
COMINIUS: Aged sir, hands off.
CORIOLANUS: Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones
Out of thy garments.
***
The production was very Japanese in style and completely baffling at points, even though my Japanese isn't bad and I know the play inside and out. I enjoyed it immensely though and it was very well received by the assembled audience of tourists, students and whoever else.
It was certainly a great deal better than the film version which came out last year.
My mum, despite being a renowned boffin on all things Shakespeare, was somehow surprised by how homoerotic parts of the film were. ("It was just like a big pride march," she giggled.) She wouldn't have it when I gave my opinion that Coriolanus is clearly the most homoerotic of Shakespeare's plays.
For example, this from Coriolanus' sworn enemy, Aufidius:
That I see thee here,
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold.
That does seem a wee bit homoerotic, does it not? The film nailed its flag firmly to the mast by having the 'This is Spartaaaargh!' bloke in it, but there are other obvious clues:
DAN: It's even got 'anus' in the title.
MUM: ...
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Honda-senpan
I went in for my monthly haircut today. My hairdresser, when he's not busy trimming barcodes like myself, is a bit of an eBay wheeler-dealer. He seemed disconcertingly pleased to see me - for a second, I thought he was about to offer me a business partnership or something. It was actually much worse.
"I had your brother in here the other day," he beamed. This, on the face of it, seemed likely enough - the last time I saw my brother he had several nasty-looking cuts on his ears and some of his hair was missing. "He tells me you can read Japanese."
I answered, a little guardedly, that I can. The reason for my caution is that Japanese literacy is a bit of an unreliable party trick. With tens of thousands of symbols in the language, there's quite a lot that gets past me.
"I need someone to read me the inscription on this," he continued, producing an oriental-looking sword from his odds-and-sods cupboard.
Ah, I thought. An oriental-looking sword. It appears that Sweeney Todd bought this item for £20 at a car boot sale, which would not seem to bode well for its provenance. Nor perhaps, for its possible involvement with several current murder investigations. The barber conceded that he mainly bought the thing as it didn't look like it was in particularly safe hands.
I drew the blade. On one side was Honda Ichirou, a Japanese John Smith, on the other side Shouwa something-or-other, possibly another name, possibly the date of the weapon's creation.
Mistaking Shouwa for Showa (even legendary calligraphers cock up from time to time) I speculated that, if the sword were genuine, it might have been created around the time of the Second World War. This cheered mine host considerably.
"Ooh, could be a bit of history there then," he said. "Could have been awarded to someone or something, eh?"
"Could be," I conceded. "Or, it could have been used to murder countless scores of Korean comfort women."
"Still a bit of history though," he mused.
***
After a spot of research, I found that the Shouwa period pre-dates Showa by about 600 years. Incidentally, the maximum penalty for trading counterfeit katana in the UK is a £5,000 fine and six months in the slammer.
"I had your brother in here the other day," he beamed. This, on the face of it, seemed likely enough - the last time I saw my brother he had several nasty-looking cuts on his ears and some of his hair was missing. "He tells me you can read Japanese."
I answered, a little guardedly, that I can. The reason for my caution is that Japanese literacy is a bit of an unreliable party trick. With tens of thousands of symbols in the language, there's quite a lot that gets past me.
"I need someone to read me the inscription on this," he continued, producing an oriental-looking sword from his odds-and-sods cupboard.
Ah, I thought. An oriental-looking sword. It appears that Sweeney Todd bought this item for £20 at a car boot sale, which would not seem to bode well for its provenance. Nor perhaps, for its possible involvement with several current murder investigations. The barber conceded that he mainly bought the thing as it didn't look like it was in particularly safe hands.
I drew the blade. On one side was Honda Ichirou, a Japanese John Smith, on the other side Shouwa something-or-other, possibly another name, possibly the date of the weapon's creation.
Mistaking Shouwa for Showa (even legendary calligraphers cock up from time to time) I speculated that, if the sword were genuine, it might have been created around the time of the Second World War. This cheered mine host considerably.
"Ooh, could be a bit of history there then," he said. "Could have been awarded to someone or something, eh?"
"Could be," I conceded. "Or, it could have been used to murder countless scores of Korean comfort women."
"Still a bit of history though," he mused.
***
After a spot of research, I found that the Shouwa period pre-dates Showa by about 600 years. Incidentally, the maximum penalty for trading counterfeit katana in the UK is a £5,000 fine and six months in the slammer.
Labels: BUNKA
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Lord Jim (a lot better than Heart of bloody Darkness)
"There were eight hundred people in that ship," he said, impaling me to the back of my seat with an awful blank stare. "Eight hundred living people, and they were yelling after the one dead man to come down and be saved. 'Jump, George! Jump! Oh, jump!' I stood by with my hand on the davit. I was very quiet. It had come over pitch dark. You could see neither sky nor sea. I heard the boat alongside go bump, bump, and not another sound down there for a while, but the ship under me was full of talking noises. Suddenly the skipper howled 'Mein Gott! The squall! The squall! Shove off!' With the first hiss of rain, and the first gust of wind, they screamed, 'Jump, George! We'll catch you! Jump!' The ship began a slow plunge; the rain swept over her like a broken sea; my cap flew off my head; my breath was driven back into my throat. I heard as if I had been on the top of a tower another wild screech, 'Geo-o-o-orge! Oh, jump!' She was going down, down, head first under me. . . ."
'He raised his hand deliberately to his face, and made picking motions with his fingers as though he had been bothered with cobwebs, and afterwards he looked into the open palm for quite half a second before he blurted out--
' "I had jumped . . ." He checked himself, averted his gaze. . . . "It seems," he added.'
Lord Jim, Chapter 9
'He raised his hand deliberately to his face, and made picking motions with his fingers as though he had been bothered with cobwebs, and afterwards he looked into the open palm for quite half a second before he blurted out--
' "I had jumped . . ." He checked himself, averted his gaze. . . . "It seems," he added.'
Lord Jim, Chapter 9
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
You broke it, you bought it
Brrrrrtt...
Click
DAN: Hi Joe.
JOE: Hi Dan, how's it going?
DAN: Good, except I can't find any bloody coffee in this shop.
JOE: Which shop are you in?
DAN: The pound shop.
JOE: Ah. Of course, all the stuff in there comes from other shops which have gone into liquidation. So when you're shopping there, what you're buying is other people's broken dreams.
If he has a point, I don't see it. And I'm becoming increasingly desperate for coffee
DAN: And?
JOE: And coffee happens to be one broken dream that flies off the shelves pretty quickly.
***
Happily, one broken dream that hadn't flown off the shelf was the DVD of Merlin (1998), with Sam Neill, Miranda Richardson, Helena Bonham Carter, Rutger Hauer et al.
Whenever I see such an impressive cast list, I'm reminded of Island of Fire, a poor Taiwanese film which featured most of the hottest actors of the time, as they owed the producer a favour for getting them out of trouble with the Triads.
After sitting through all three hours of the DVD yestereve, I felt that I'd pretty much got what I'd paid for.
Click
DAN: Hi Joe.
JOE: Hi Dan, how's it going?
DAN: Good, except I can't find any bloody coffee in this shop.
JOE: Which shop are you in?
DAN: The pound shop.
JOE: Ah. Of course, all the stuff in there comes from other shops which have gone into liquidation. So when you're shopping there, what you're buying is other people's broken dreams.
If he has a point, I don't see it. And I'm becoming increasingly desperate for coffee
DAN: And?
JOE: And coffee happens to be one broken dream that flies off the shelves pretty quickly.
***
Happily, one broken dream that hadn't flown off the shelf was the DVD of Merlin (1998), with Sam Neill, Miranda Richardson, Helena Bonham Carter, Rutger Hauer et al.
Whenever I see such an impressive cast list, I'm reminded of Island of Fire, a poor Taiwanese film which featured most of the hottest actors of the time, as they owed the producer a favour for getting them out of trouble with the Triads.
After sitting through all three hours of the DVD yestereve, I felt that I'd pretty much got what I'd paid for.
Labels: BUNKA, CLAN, THE CREDIT CRUNCH, WORDS
Friday, August 26, 2011
Spamlet
I've been giving a little thought recently to how the habitual three-hour trudge-fest that is Hamlet might be improved for audiences at the RSC. I'll be sure to mail this in to them just as soon as my medication wears off.
ACT V, SCENE II (Hamlet having just accepted the fencing match with Laertes)
HORATIO
You will lose this wager, my lord.
HAMLET
I do not think so: since he went into France, I
have been in continual practise: I shall win at the
odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here
about my heart: but it is no matter.
HORATIO
Nay, good my lord,--
HAMLET
It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman.
HORATIO
If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will
forestall their repair hither, and say you are not
fit.
HAMLET
Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
providence in the fall of a sparrow.
A dead sparrow drops on the stage with a note round its neck, saying THE SWORD'S POISONED. After a brief pause, a second one arrives with a note saying AND SO'S THE WINE
***
Critical acclaim for Dan's proposed amendment to Hamlet:
"It would be nice to see some intelligent people getting involved in the theatre, rather than just people who failed all their GCSEs and decided to take up acting."
Joseph McKeown, BA Acting
ACT V, SCENE II (Hamlet having just accepted the fencing match with Laertes)
HORATIO
You will lose this wager, my lord.
HAMLET
I do not think so: since he went into France, I
have been in continual practise: I shall win at the
odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here
about my heart: but it is no matter.
HORATIO
Nay, good my lord,--
HAMLET
It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman.
HORATIO
If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will
forestall their repair hither, and say you are not
fit.
HAMLET
Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
providence in the fall of a sparrow.
A dead sparrow drops on the stage with a note round its neck, saying THE SWORD'S POISONED. After a brief pause, a second one arrives with a note saying AND SO'S THE WINE
***
Critical acclaim for Dan's proposed amendment to Hamlet:
"It would be nice to see some intelligent people getting involved in the theatre, rather than just people who failed all their GCSEs and decided to take up acting."
Joseph McKeown, BA Acting
Monday, July 04, 2011
Variety is...
Announcer: You're entering a realm which is unusual. Maybe it's magic, or contains some kind of monster... The second one. Prepare to enter the Scary Door.
Scene: An elderly man wearing a green visor exits 3-Eyed Jack's Casino.
Announcer: Please send the man 'round back and pick up Clyde Smith. A professional gambler who's about to have an unfortunate accident.
While crossing the street, Clyde is hit by a car.
He wakes up in front of a slot machine. He pulls the lever and it comes up with three Bars.
Clyde: A casino where I'm winning? That car must've killed me; I must be in heaven!
He pulls the lever again, three Bars come up again.
Clyde: A casino where I always win? That's boring. I must really be... In hell!
Enter man.
Sebastian Cabot: No, Mr. Smith, you're not in heaven or hell. You're on an airplane!
Man opens curtain, revealing airplane windows. Clyde looks out the window and sees a gremlin on the wing, tearing out the wiring.
Clyde: There's a gremlin destroying the plane! You've gotta believe me!
Sebastian Cabot: Why should I believe you? You're Hitler!
Man holds up a mirror, revealing that Clyde's reflection is that of Adolf Hitler.
Clyde: No!
Clyde is transformed into Hitler. He turns to the person next to him.
Clyde: Eva Braun, help me!
Eva Braun pulls off her face to reveal that she's actually a giant fly. Clyde screams.
Cut to Bender, watching this on TV
Bender: (Unimpressed) Saw it coming.
From Futurama: I dated a Robot
pillaged primarily from http://theinfosphere.org/The_Scary_Door
***
Once upon a time, 'Old Spice' was also an uncharitable epithet for Geri Halliwell.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The affinity of great minds
"I've an idea; just struck me, and you're as welcome to it as if it were your own. P'r'aps that rascal Atkinson has ordered those things, and got them when they were sent home. Rather smart of me to think of that, eh?"
"Very smart," I answered, with great emphasis, while his valet grinned behind a coat. "The affinity of great minds is shown in the fact that the same idea struck me."
The McGovan Casebook: The Wrong Umbrella
William Crawford Honeyman, writing as James McGovan
***
The McGovan books, which first appeared in the 1870s, were supposed at the time to be the memoirs of a real-life Edinburgh detective. In the afterword to my edition of the casebook, Mary Anne Allburger argues the case for Honeyman as an influence on the Sherlock Holmes stories of Arthur Conan Doyle, himself a student in Edinburgh at the time:
The final confirmation may be deduced from Holmes's decision to retire to the South Downs and to keep bees, for thus the violin-playing sleuth becomes a "honey-man".
***
The affinity of great minds was no less in evidence over the Christmas period. My delight at finding as suitable a present for my brother as the anime DVD Sherlock Hound was rather tempered by the fact that he had bought the exact same present for me.
***
It was the end of the evening on Christmas Day and the party was petering out. All the alcohol was gone and both Peters in attendance had in fact retired to the front room to follow the Ashes on the radio. It was unquestionably time to hit the road.
"Let's make like a condom," I announced.
"And split?" asked Katelyn.
"You're very close," I said. "The correct answer is: and piss off."
"Very smart," I answered, with great emphasis, while his valet grinned behind a coat. "The affinity of great minds is shown in the fact that the same idea struck me."
The McGovan Casebook: The Wrong Umbrella
William Crawford Honeyman, writing as James McGovan
***
The McGovan books, which first appeared in the 1870s, were supposed at the time to be the memoirs of a real-life Edinburgh detective. In the afterword to my edition of the casebook, Mary Anne Allburger argues the case for Honeyman as an influence on the Sherlock Holmes stories of Arthur Conan Doyle, himself a student in Edinburgh at the time:
The final confirmation may be deduced from Holmes's decision to retire to the South Downs and to keep bees, for thus the violin-playing sleuth becomes a "honey-man".
***
The affinity of great minds was no less in evidence over the Christmas period. My delight at finding as suitable a present for my brother as the anime DVD Sherlock Hound was rather tempered by the fact that he had bought the exact same present for me.
***
It was the end of the evening on Christmas Day and the party was petering out. All the alcohol was gone and both Peters in attendance had in fact retired to the front room to follow the Ashes on the radio. It was unquestionably time to hit the road.
"Let's make like a condom," I announced.
"And split?" asked Katelyn.
"You're very close," I said. "The correct answer is: and piss off."
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Elton John songs
have been getting a right pasting recently, thanks in part to an Elton John-themed night on the X Factor.
There's more: I really don't like the Ellie Goulding cover of Your song that's doing well in the charts at the moment, for a number of reasons.
1. The whole way she's marketed: "Ooh, look how wholesome she is!" The video that accompanies the song is especially nauseating, showing her wandering around a coastline in knitwear, looking baffled by lighthouses. Great, she's wrapped up warm. Amazing.
"No, look - she hasn't dyed her roots! How innocent she is!" Yes, that's a lovely natural look.
"She's got kittens!!!"
To be honest, I quite like cats and I tend to wrap up warm when going outside in cold weather. I don't go round sticking it down people's throats though. Perhaps that's the difference between wholesome and fulsome.
2. The backing track sounds like it's been dumbed down for grade one keyboards.
3. The words have been changed, and they make even less sense:
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind,
that I put down in words,
how wonderful life is
now you're in the world
Does this mean she's got the horn for a newborn child? If so, that's rather a big departure from the 'wholesome' thing.
***
Meanwhile, I'm hard at work on my own version of Candle in the wind, in which Prince Charles's role in Di's death is played up:
And it seems to me you killed your wife
like a royal assassin
you couldn't wait for natural causes
so you did her in
And I'd really like to prove it
but there's no evidence
her head went through a steering wheel
not on a fifty pence
(de-de de-de de-de-de deeeh)
Disclaimer: Look - kittens!!!
There's more: I really don't like the Ellie Goulding cover of Your song that's doing well in the charts at the moment, for a number of reasons.
1. The whole way she's marketed: "Ooh, look how wholesome she is!" The video that accompanies the song is especially nauseating, showing her wandering around a coastline in knitwear, looking baffled by lighthouses. Great, she's wrapped up warm. Amazing.
"No, look - she hasn't dyed her roots! How innocent she is!" Yes, that's a lovely natural look.
"She's got kittens!!!"
To be honest, I quite like cats and I tend to wrap up warm when going outside in cold weather. I don't go round sticking it down people's throats though. Perhaps that's the difference between wholesome and fulsome.
2. The backing track sounds like it's been dumbed down for grade one keyboards.
3. The words have been changed, and they make even less sense:
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind,
that I put down in words,
how wonderful life is
now you're in the world
Does this mean she's got the horn for a newborn child? If so, that's rather a big departure from the 'wholesome' thing.
***
Meanwhile, I'm hard at work on my own version of Candle in the wind, in which Prince Charles's role in Di's death is played up:
And it seems to me you killed your wife
like a royal assassin
you couldn't wait for natural causes
so you did her in
And I'd really like to prove it
but there's no evidence
her head went through a steering wheel
not on a fifty pence
(de-de de-de de-de-de deeeh)
Disclaimer: Look - kittens!!!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
What was 'The Event'?
The Event, known by various other ominous names, occurred towards the end of the 20th century, setting in motion a chain of events that effectively saw the human race return to the stone age.
According to our best research, The Event happened some time between 1992 and 1994, when, after three excellent albums, The Beautiful South suddenly became absolutely and irredeemably shit.
The Beautiful South, just in case you were in a cave or a coma, were a musical phoenix arisen from the ashes of the Housemartins. They were my first proper favourite band and, for most of the early 90s, my CD of Choke spent more time in the stereo than it did in its box.
1989 Welcome to the Beautiful South
The Beautiful South's first album: massively popular, melodic tunes. Dark lyrics.
Although the album was a huge hit, the cover, with the girl sticking the gun in her mouth, was rather less so, particularly with the censors.
An alternative version was released with the suicidal wench and the smoking bloke replaced by a cuddly teddy bear and an adorable toy rabbit respectively.
Standout tunes:
Song for whoever - first single, satirising the music industry and paint-by-numbers love songs
Woman in the wall - song about a bloke doing his missus in
1990 Choke
Built on the success of the first album and yielded the band's only UK #1 ('A little time').
A truly tremendous album which filled the void in my soul left by not being old enough for self-abuse or alcohol. (Notice how I set those two apart, even after all these years - there's nothing as healthy as denial.)
Standout tracks:
Let love speak up itself - would bring a tear to a glass eye
Should've kept my eyes shut - another song about doing your missus in
1992 0898
Standout tracks:
Old Red Eyes is back - strangely uplifting song about alcoholism
You play glockenspiel, I'll play drums - killer synth riff
0898 was a bit of a departure from the previous two albums, with more of a rock feel and some downright disturbing album artwork. The title refers to the old prefix for premium phone rate numbers.
Of course, everyone has a mobile phone these days so every number's a premium rate number. Even my mother. (Your mother always was.)
1994 Miaow
Utter, utter cack. The group had lost Briana Corrigan as female vocalist, but that still didn't explain how dreary all the tunes were.
The signs were all there with the uninspiring first single release 'Good as gold'. The second single was 'Everybody's talkin'', a cover of someone else's song, which had been middle of the road way back in the day.
In an ironic little echo of the band's golden era, they had to withdraw the album sleeve for this too - because of a copyright infringement against HMV, Tesco's for music.
The South went onto to vomit out a greatest hits collection, a couple more albums and a couple more greatest hits collections, becoming in the process a persuasive argument for the 'die before you get old' school of thinking.
In a parallel universe, opinionated drunks are typing similar stuff about Kurt Cobain.
According to our best research, The Event happened some time between 1992 and 1994, when, after three excellent albums, The Beautiful South suddenly became absolutely and irredeemably shit.
The Beautiful South, just in case you were in a cave or a coma, were a musical phoenix arisen from the ashes of the Housemartins. They were my first proper favourite band and, for most of the early 90s, my CD of Choke spent more time in the stereo than it did in its box.
1989 Welcome to the Beautiful South
The Beautiful South's first album: massively popular, melodic tunes. Dark lyrics.
Although the album was a huge hit, the cover, with the girl sticking the gun in her mouth, was rather less so, particularly with the censors.
An alternative version was released with the suicidal wench and the smoking bloke replaced by a cuddly teddy bear and an adorable toy rabbit respectively.
Standout tunes:
Song for whoever - first single, satirising the music industry and paint-by-numbers love songs
Woman in the wall - song about a bloke doing his missus in
1990 Choke
Built on the success of the first album and yielded the band's only UK #1 ('A little time').
A truly tremendous album which filled the void in my soul left by not being old enough for self-abuse or alcohol. (Notice how I set those two apart, even after all these years - there's nothing as healthy as denial.)
Standout tracks:
Let love speak up itself - would bring a tear to a glass eye
Should've kept my eyes shut - another song about doing your missus in
1992 0898
Standout tracks:
Old Red Eyes is back - strangely uplifting song about alcoholism
You play glockenspiel, I'll play drums - killer synth riff
0898 was a bit of a departure from the previous two albums, with more of a rock feel and some downright disturbing album artwork. The title refers to the old prefix for premium phone rate numbers.
Of course, everyone has a mobile phone these days so every number's a premium rate number. Even my mother. (Your mother always was.)
1994 Miaow
Utter, utter cack. The group had lost Briana Corrigan as female vocalist, but that still didn't explain how dreary all the tunes were.
The signs were all there with the uninspiring first single release 'Good as gold'. The second single was 'Everybody's talkin'', a cover of someone else's song, which had been middle of the road way back in the day.
In an ironic little echo of the band's golden era, they had to withdraw the album sleeve for this too - because of a copyright infringement against HMV, Tesco's for music.
The South went onto to vomit out a greatest hits collection, a couple more albums and a couple more greatest hits collections, becoming in the process a persuasive argument for the 'die before you get old' school of thinking.
In a parallel universe, opinionated drunks are typing similar stuff about Kurt Cobain.
Labels: BUNKA
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Girl with the Relative Clause: Stieg Larsson outtakes
...And back to the usual flippancy here on Trashed Elbow.
Every time I go in a bookshop these days, I find myself irritated by the Stieg Larsson novels. I should be clear that I haven't read any of them - my dad read one once and told me it was naff; that was good enough for me.
What irritates me is the off-the-shelf, formulaic titles: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest.
It did give me pause to wonder: which potential titles did he consider before discarding? Which ones didn't make the final cut?
Here are some of my ideas:
Every time I go in a bookshop these days, I find myself irritated by the Stieg Larsson novels. I should be clear that I haven't read any of them - my dad read one once and told me it was naff; that was good enough for me.
What irritates me is the off-the-shelf, formulaic titles: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest.
It did give me pause to wonder: which potential titles did he consider before discarding? Which ones didn't make the final cut?
Here are some of my ideas:
- The Girl with the Pencil Moustache
- The Girl Who Talked to Strangers
- The Girl Who Ran with Scissors
- The Girl Who Shared Needles
- The Girl with the Adam's Apple
Labels: AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION, BUNKA
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Inauspices
I have been struggling a bit with superstition recently. For one thing, I've been training myself to step on three.
In case anyone doesn't know, the cardinal rule of pedestrianism in England is "Don't tread on three", where there are three manhole covers laid out in a row. Should you tread on all three of them, great misfortune will surely befall.
Although, perhaps erroneously, I don't consider myself a superstitious person, I noticed I was being rather scrupulous in my observance of the unwritten rule. To put an end to this, I'm deliberately treading on three this week. It's worth noting that whatever misfortune befalls is unlikely to be as dire as the consequences of my continually veering to avoid manhole covers on crowded London streets.
***
In other omens, I took my lucky turtle out of my wallet the other day to find that his head had snapped off.
The lucky turtle was given to me by a Japanese student; I was told to keep him in my wallet and he would bring me money. His grisly decapitation may go some way toward explaining my current poverty.
In case anyone doesn't know, the cardinal rule of pedestrianism in England is "Don't tread on three", where there are three manhole covers laid out in a row. Should you tread on all three of them, great misfortune will surely befall.
Although, perhaps erroneously, I don't consider myself a superstitious person, I noticed I was being rather scrupulous in my observance of the unwritten rule. To put an end to this, I'm deliberately treading on three this week. It's worth noting that whatever misfortune befalls is unlikely to be as dire as the consequences of my continually veering to avoid manhole covers on crowded London streets.
***
In other omens, I took my lucky turtle out of my wallet the other day to find that his head had snapped off.
The lucky turtle was given to me by a Japanese student; I was told to keep him in my wallet and he would bring me money. His grisly decapitation may go some way toward explaining my current poverty.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Holmes truths
The Beeb have foisted a new incarnation of Sherlock Holmes upon us: the imaginatively titled Sherlock (Sundays, 9pm-ish).
To commemorate this momentous occasion, I'd like to share a few of my favourite bits of Holmes-style wisdom. Not bits of outstanding deductive brilliance, sadly, but merely examples of him being snide and gittish to his long-suffering sidekick, Dr Watson.
***
I was about to make some remark to him when I raised my eyes to the lighted window and again experienced almost as great a surprise as before. I clutched Holmes's arm and pointed upwards.
"The shadow has moved!" I cried.
It was, indeed, no longer the profile, but the back, which was turned towards us.
Three years had certainly not smoothed the asperities of his temper or his impatience with a less active intelligence than his own.
"Of course it has moved," said he. "Am I such a farcical bungler, Watson, that I should erect an obvious dummy and expect that some of the sharpest men in Europe would be deceived by it?"
The Adventure of the Empty House
***
"The cipher message begins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as a working hypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the cipher refers. So our book has already become a LARGE book, which is surely something gained. What other indications have we as to the nature of this large book? The next sign is C2. What do you make of that, Watson?"
"Chapter the second, no doubt."
"Hardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me that if the page be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if page 534 finds us only in the second chapter, the length of the first one must have been really intolerable."
"Column!" I cried.
"Brilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning."
The Valley of Fear
To commemorate this momentous occasion, I'd like to share a few of my favourite bits of Holmes-style wisdom. Not bits of outstanding deductive brilliance, sadly, but merely examples of him being snide and gittish to his long-suffering sidekick, Dr Watson.
***
I was about to make some remark to him when I raised my eyes to the lighted window and again experienced almost as great a surprise as before. I clutched Holmes's arm and pointed upwards.
"The shadow has moved!" I cried.
It was, indeed, no longer the profile, but the back, which was turned towards us.
Three years had certainly not smoothed the asperities of his temper or his impatience with a less active intelligence than his own.
"Of course it has moved," said he. "Am I such a farcical bungler, Watson, that I should erect an obvious dummy and expect that some of the sharpest men in Europe would be deceived by it?"
The Adventure of the Empty House
***
"The cipher message begins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as a working hypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the cipher refers. So our book has already become a LARGE book, which is surely something gained. What other indications have we as to the nature of this large book? The next sign is C2. What do you make of that, Watson?"
"Chapter the second, no doubt."
"Hardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me that if the page be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if page 534 finds us only in the second chapter, the length of the first one must have been really intolerable."
"Column!" I cried.
"Brilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning."
The Valley of Fear
Monday, July 12, 2010
Path of flowers and beasts
The World Cup is finally over, so I can stop moonlighting on the World Cup Blogcast and get back to writing here. Hurrah!
In other sports news, the world of sumo has gone to hell in a hand basket (note: this may not be news to those of you who don't rely on Trashed Elbow as your sole source of sumo information).
The sport has been hit with scandals revolving around gambling and Yakuza, leading to the suspension of a couple of high-profile wrestlers and an enormous knee-jerk reaction from Japanese broadcasters NHK, who have decided not to air the current tournament.
The gambling scandal included ozeki Kotomitsuki getting sacked for betting on baseball. This is illegal in Japan and unlicensed betting generally involves some contact (direct or otherwise) with gangsters. It is also believed Kotomitsuki was being blackmailed for money. Osaka's Goeido is another who has been suspended.
(I suspect pro baseball players probably place illegal bets on the sumo all the time without getting rumbled.)
Meanwhile, there has been much furore about Yakuza getting ringside seats at sumo tournaments, apparently hoping to appear on TV and thereby give solace to their comrades in prison.
Were I banged up inside, I'm sure I'd be delighted to see TV coverage of my workmates cavorting around at the sumo instead of hatching plans to bust me out. In any case, sumo is off the air, which surely amounts to punishment for all the regular fans?
Needless to say, the suspension of all the Japanese talent does little to raise hopes of a home-grown grand champion any time soon.
Notes
Hanamichi: (lit. path of flowers) the wrestlers' path to the dohyou (raised ring) in sumo
Kemonomichi: (lit. path of beasts) the underworld
In other sports news, the world of sumo has gone to hell in a hand basket (note: this may not be news to those of you who don't rely on Trashed Elbow as your sole source of sumo information).
The sport has been hit with scandals revolving around gambling and Yakuza, leading to the suspension of a couple of high-profile wrestlers and an enormous knee-jerk reaction from Japanese broadcasters NHK, who have decided not to air the current tournament.
The gambling scandal included ozeki Kotomitsuki getting sacked for betting on baseball. This is illegal in Japan and unlicensed betting generally involves some contact (direct or otherwise) with gangsters. It is also believed Kotomitsuki was being blackmailed for money. Osaka's Goeido is another who has been suspended.
(I suspect pro baseball players probably place illegal bets on the sumo all the time without getting rumbled.)
Meanwhile, there has been much furore about Yakuza getting ringside seats at sumo tournaments, apparently hoping to appear on TV and thereby give solace to their comrades in prison.
Were I banged up inside, I'm sure I'd be delighted to see TV coverage of my workmates cavorting around at the sumo instead of hatching plans to bust me out. In any case, sumo is off the air, which surely amounts to punishment for all the regular fans?
Needless to say, the suspension of all the Japanese talent does little to raise hopes of a home-grown grand champion any time soon.
Notes
Hanamichi: (lit. path of flowers) the wrestlers' path to the dohyou (raised ring) in sumo
Kemonomichi: (lit. path of beasts) the underworld
Friday, March 19, 2010
Cartoon cricket
IPL cricket has made it onto the idiot box, courtesy of ITV4.
Joe won't hear a good word about the Twenty20 format. Sam and I were chatting over its demerits versus test cricket while we were watching people hitting the ball out of the ground and scantily-clad cheerleaders.
ME: It's a bit like the difference between playing chess and playing snap.
HE: It's more like the difference between playing chess and just throwing chess pieces as far as you can.
Joe won't hear a good word about the Twenty20 format. Sam and I were chatting over its demerits versus test cricket while we were watching people hitting the ball out of the ground and scantily-clad cheerleaders.
ME: It's a bit like the difference between playing chess and playing snap.
HE: It's more like the difference between playing chess and just throwing chess pieces as far as you can.
Labels: BUNKA, COMRADES, WORDS
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Happy St Pat's!
I had an article to write and I find that Paddy's Night reaches a level of crassness that puts Christmas in the shade.
I did, however, commemorate the occasion in my own fashion.
Behold, the jelly tricolore.
I did, however, commemorate the occasion in my own fashion.
Behold, the jelly tricolore.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Encore quatre ans, cherie
In the 2003 Rugby World Cup semi final between Australia and New Zealand, Australia's scrum half, George Gregan, was picked up on broadcast cheerily calling "Four more years, boys!" to the opposition as the clock ticked down on another disappointing New Zealand exit.
I only wish Gregan had been next to the starting gate at the Olympic Women's Downhill in Vancouver, as Marion Rolland of France made it fully six yards before wobbling on one ski, veering off to the right and crashing to the floor.
Attempts to post youtube footage of this have generally been obstructed by the "dog in manger" attitude of the IOC, who aren't going to be using it on any of their highlights reel, methinks.
I hope she's entered in one or two of the other skiing events and she makes a better fist of it next time.
I only wish Gregan had been next to the starting gate at the Olympic Women's Downhill in Vancouver, as Marion Rolland of France made it fully six yards before wobbling on one ski, veering off to the right and crashing to the floor.
Attempts to post youtube footage of this have generally been obstructed by the "dog in manger" attitude of the IOC, who aren't going to be using it on any of their highlights reel, methinks.
I hope she's entered in one or two of the other skiing events and she makes a better fist of it next time.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
44
It was the Superbowl last night and, despite comparative ignorance of American football, I wasn't about to let the opportunity for a sesh go by.
Simple premise: invite people round, split into Colts and Saints, and drink according to game events.
First down: team defending drinks
Turnover: team losing possession drinks
Points scored: team defending drinks
Losing yards on a play: team in possession drinks (extra for a QB sack)
There was also pizza and wings.
Matt and I were on the Saints team, Glyn and Pete were the Colts.
The game began well with Saints winning the toss, but this was about the last time Glyn and Pete had to drink in the first quarter as the Saints kicked away possession on their first two drives and the Colts scored on both of theirs.
Worse was to follow when we got absolutely schooled at the half time beer pong.
Thankfully, the Saints came good in the end, although I was possibly a bit too well oiled to savour the victory as much as I might have.
Simple premise: invite people round, split into Colts and Saints, and drink according to game events.
First down: team defending drinks
Turnover: team losing possession drinks
Points scored: team defending drinks
Losing yards on a play: team in possession drinks (extra for a QB sack)
There was also pizza and wings.
Matt and I were on the Saints team, Glyn and Pete were the Colts.
The game began well with Saints winning the toss, but this was about the last time Glyn and Pete had to drink in the first quarter as the Saints kicked away possession on their first two drives and the Colts scored on both of theirs.
Worse was to follow when we got absolutely schooled at the half time beer pong.
Thankfully, the Saints came good in the end, although I was possibly a bit too well oiled to savour the victory as much as I might have.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Weekend entertainment on the cheap
Glyn had a good idea - Ready, steady, cook! night. All participants to bring three ingredients, totalling no more than a fiver in value.
Then he and I (his intended co-chef having bailed) cooked a variety of weird and wonderful dishes from whatever showed up with the various partygoers.
My ingredients were rice, mushrooms and spam. The first two went into fried rice, unsurprisingly. The spam was reincarnated as spam bhaji, which must be an all-time first. Didn't taste half bad either.
The drinking games were a bit more fraught: some genius came up with the rule "Dan has to lose an item of clothing every time a red card is drawn."
Fortunately, said genius didn't proscribe the putting on of clothes between cards, so I was able to preserve what little modesty I had by nicking other people's scarves and hats.
On Sunday, I trekked round London on the Sherlock Holmes audiowalk, which was a great laugh.
I made it twenty yards from my front door before I encountered my first miscreant. A young boy blindsided me with a snowball as I was walking past Coram's Fields.
My urge to giggle outweighed my urge for retribution.
Then he and I (his intended co-chef having bailed) cooked a variety of weird and wonderful dishes from whatever showed up with the various partygoers.
My ingredients were rice, mushrooms and spam. The first two went into fried rice, unsurprisingly. The spam was reincarnated as spam bhaji, which must be an all-time first. Didn't taste half bad either.
The drinking games were a bit more fraught: some genius came up with the rule "Dan has to lose an item of clothing every time a red card is drawn."
Fortunately, said genius didn't proscribe the putting on of clothes between cards, so I was able to preserve what little modesty I had by nicking other people's scarves and hats.
On Sunday, I trekked round London on the Sherlock Holmes audiowalk, which was a great laugh.
I made it twenty yards from my front door before I encountered my first miscreant. A young boy blindsided me with a snowball as I was walking past Coram's Fields.
My urge to giggle outweighed my urge for retribution.
Labels: BUNKA, COMRADES, SELF IMPROVEMENT
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Whiskey critique
McNulty: Jameson's. please.
Bartender: Bushmill's alright?
McNulty: Bushmill's? That's Protestant whiskey.
-The Wire
Bartender: Bushmill's alright?
McNulty: Bushmill's? That's Protestant whiskey.
-The Wire
Friday, December 25, 2009
Xmas decs!
What did Adam say the day before Christmas?
It's Christmas, Eve!
