Archive for December, 2005
Merry Christmas, everyone
I’m putting the computer away soon to embark on a cleaning frenzy, and then to do some last-minute DIY. What could possibly go wrong?
I hope Santa’s good to you all. Have a good Christmas.
Supermarkets
If you need to do any last-minute shopping, don’t do it! If my town’s like the rest of the world, it’s tailbacks and punch-ups ahoy. And that was first thing this morning, before the crazy people got in their cars.
Mind you, it’s not all bad. Instead of the traditional teams of boy scouts packing shoppers’ bags, my local ASDA has recruited a squad of cheerleaders.
Gadget joy
The annual CES gadget frenzy takes place in January, and new blog CES Uncovered is highlighting the shiniest gadgets before heading off to Vegas to report on the show. Jealous? Me?
Big Brother is watching you(r car)
Britain is to become the first country in the world where the movements of all vehicles on the roads are recorded. A new national surveillance system will hold the records for at least two years.
Using a network of cameras that can automatically read every passing number plate, the plan is to build a huge database of vehicle movements so that the police and security services can analyse any journey a driver has made over several years.
The network will incorporate thousands of existing CCTV cameras which are being converted to read number plates automatically night and day to provide 24/7 coverage of all motorways and main roads, as well as towns, cities, ports and petrol-station forecourts.
By next March a central database installed alongside the Police National Computer in Hendon, north London, will store the details of 35 million number-plate “reads” per day. These will include time, date and precise location, with camera sites monitored by global positioning satellites.
My brother is teh funnay
My brother is easily amused. When a discussion about kilts and suits mentioned Miami Vice, he decided to see what I’d look like if I were Don Johnson. The answer is “stupid”.
Email still down, ish
My email’s going up and down like a kangaroo on a spacehopper in a lift munching uppers and downers during an earthquake. Apologies to anyone waiting on a reply to emails - I’ll get them eventually. Honest.
Blasphemy ahoy
This is either utterly reprehensible or the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages: The Passion Of The Christ with a soundtrack from the Benny Hill show.
Of course, if the entertainment industry gets its way such larks will soon be illegal, but for now the only thing the creator need worry about is eternal damnation in the fiery pits of hell.
[Via B3ta]
Monkey love
I went to see King Kong last night, and it’s that rare thing: a three-hour film that doesn’t suck (although it could easily have lost half an hour towards the beginning). The CGI’s great, the fight scenes are top-notch, and the only thing that marred it for me was the frequent vertigo-inducing camerawork.
Peter Jackson is very fond of showing the view from very, very high-up places, which isn’t a lot of fun when you’re terrified of heights. The rational bit of your brain knows that you’re looking at a picture, but the primal scaredy-cat bit of your brain is going “AAAAGH! AAAAAGH! AAAAAGH!” throughout the film.
Oh, and close your eyes in the Spider Pit scene if you’re scared of creepy crawlies.
On a related note, I’m becoming increasingly convinced that the 12A certificate (which Kong has) is a bad idea. There’s some pretty nasty stuff in the movie, which clearly scared the utter crap out of the six-year-old a few rows in front (whose parents were nowhere to be seen; presumably they’d dumped the wean in the cinema and then spent the night in the bar).
My email is down
…which is very annoying.
No, madam. Everything’s in perfect working order*
With loads of weddings, engagement parties and other social things coming up over the next wee while, I’ve decided to buy a kilt. Not because my hairy white knees are desperate for a taste of freedom, but because I hate wearing suits (I’ve got a thing about ties: they’re evil). While full Highland dress is equally uncomfortable, you can often get away with a kilt, ghillie shirt and big clumpy boots combo.
I naively assumed that buying a kilt would be a fairly simple affair. I’d go into a kilt shop, tell ‘em my measurements, hand over some cash and walk away with a brand new kilt. Easy!
What I didn’t count on were the three big evils of kilt buying. Number one, an awful lot of kilt shops seem to be staffed by complete and utter tools. Number two, kilts are complicated and require approximately 400 million accessories. And number three, they’re unbelievably expensive. You can get round all three by buying a £45 kilt from eBay, but don’t kid yourself: it’s not a proper kilt, and if you wear one then proper Scotsmen will laugh at you or possibly kill you.
When I say that a lot of shops are staffed by complete and utter tools, I mean the ones that are actually open: the first few shops we tried don’t open at weekends, presumably because they believe that anybody who’d actually wear a kilt doesn’t have a job. So we ended up in the city centre shops, whose main client base is american tourists and whose staff hate the entire human race.
I wonder if you can help me, I said to the sour-faced man in the shop. I want to buy a kilt, but I’m not sure what I need to get.
- What tartan?
Black Watch.
- Right, he said. You need this one.
It was nearly £500. £500 for, let’s face it, a jumped-up blanket.
Is that the only option? I asked.
- No, he said. There’s a lighter weight, but…
It was a good trick. Without actually saying anything, he made it crystal clear that if I considered anything but a full weight kilt, I might as well dress up like Girls Aloud and hang around biker bars.
There are two things you need to know about heavyweight kilts: they take “expensive” to a whole new level, and they weigh a bloody ton. That’s fine if it’s the sixteenth century and you’re running through snowy fields with a big sodding sword, but not so good if it’s the middle of August and your testicles are on fire (I got married in August, on the hottest day of the year, in a kilt. Well, actually I got married in a hotel. But I was wearing a kilt. Full weight. Hot day. Not recommended).
I tried again, and asked if I could compare the weights. He lifted over a full-weight kilt. It dislocated my shoulder.
It’s a little known fact, but the reason the Scots were ultimately defeated by the English armies way back when wasn’t because of strategy or weaponry; the weight of their kilts dragged the Scots armies into the very core of the Earth, which enabled the English to ponce about as if they owned the place.
Can I see a medium-weight kilt, please? I asked.
He sighed and handed one over. It was still really heavy, but didn’t dislocate anything.
- That’s more of a football kilt, the man said, rhyming “football” with “gay”.
I preferred the medium weight kilt to the full weight kilt - given my back problems, strapping four and a half tons of wool to my backside isn’t the most sensible idea - but it was obvious that this bloke had absolutely no intention of letting me buy one. So we tried elsewhere. On to another city centre kiltmakers where
AAAAAGH AMERICAN TOURISTS EVERYWHERE RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN
So that didn’t work out either.
Off to Clydebank, then, to a family business that’s got a great reputation. And they were great - they wanted to know what I wanted and didn’t try to sell the most expensive stuff in the shop. Measured up, kilt ordered, job’s a good ‘un. £250. Ouch.
- Do you want to order the flashes just now?
Flashes?
- Because if you do it’s only £15, but if you order them later it’s £25.
Flashes are bits of tartan that go on your socks. They are, apparently, very important.
- And have you got a sporran?
The Sporran is the pouch at the front of the kilt, which has been used since the early 14th century as a convenient carry case for cigarettes, zippo lighters and digital cameras. £80.
Then there’s sporran chains. And the belt. And the belt buckle. The bill was now close to £450 before I remembered the kilt pin (which stops the kilt blowing open and showing your tackle to surprised pensioners), which was another £20. And we didn’t even go near kilt socks, the skean dhu (dagger, for non-Scots), clown shoes (not their official name) or any of that malarkey.
The upshot of all of this? Having handed over more than you’d pay for an Xbox 360 on eBay, I’ll go and pick up my kilt at some point in january - at which point they’ll nag me about the accessories I haven’t bought yet and talk me out of another couple of hundred quid.
With hindsight, I should have bought a tartan dog blanket and wrapped it around myself a few times. And then bought an Xbox 360.
* traditional “hilarious” answer to the traditional lady-question, “so, is anything worn under the kilt”?