Eins, Zwei, Polizei.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

So, I got me a blog on that newfangled Vox thing. I'm not sure that I'll keep this blog, so you're probably best off going there, assuming you're up for more Broadchurch.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Mathematician Grigory Perelman seems to be getting a bit of attention these days, even warranting a piece in the Guardian (unusual for a pure mathematician), for turning down the Fields Medal.

Personally, I wouldn't trust any mathematician who would accept a medal. The man's probably set for life as it is, even without the award. With a result like the one he's come up with he can probably be assured of a place at any university or institution you'd care to name, along with a degree of freedom that most scholars would envy. When you have that, you don't need no stinking medal, unless you're a prick.

Leave the gongs and accolades to needy types like scientists and authors.

People who are inexplicably on television:

1. Rowland Rivron.

Monday, August 21, 2006

As a society in constant fear of attacks by Islamo-Fascisto-Terroristimists it is time that we finally started to ask the important questions, such as

Which book would you take on a long haul flight, knowing that, since there's a very real chance that Osama bin Laden will be hiding in one of the overhead compartments with a really big bomb, it might be your last chance on Earth to read something?

Only in my nightmares am I so pitiful a wretch that I'd seriously consider spending my last moments of life reading, so I'd probably take a hollowed out copy of the bible with a Derringer .22 and a hip flask of whiskey concealed inside it. As the plane plummeted towards the ground, my last moments would be spent firing wildly into the air, laughing and cursing God at the top of my lungs, possibly shouting "I'm coming for you, you bastard!" at the devil.

That's the only way to die.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Everyone knows that an otter bit off Terry Nutkins' hands, but what most people don't realise is that to this day the otters keep Terry hostage in a secret location and regularly hurt him every time someone throws a shopping trolley into a river, and sometimes they do it just for fun.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Afternoon all,

Broadchurch is in Norwich at the moment.

Norwich is mega.

And I've bought a house.

It is also mega.

Internet is less mega.

I'll be off now.

Later.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Another idea for a tv show:

Russel Brand and Will Self are buried alive for a week in an airtight chamber that only holds enough air to sustain one person for the entire duration.

Either:

a. Both die.

b. One is dug up having spent an entire week in close quarters with the corpse of the other, who they've had to either strangle or bludgeon to death with their fists in the name of survival.

I think the easy money would be on Self, he looks a bit handy whereas Brand is nothing more than a demented, rat faced harlequin.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

I want my own TV show. It would feature me watching and trying to comment on music videos by new and unsigned bands, my bewilderment increasing with every clip until confused apathy began to set in.

The theme music would be Sliver by Nirvana.