Maybe my mind is going, but I’m sure that there used to be a special freephone number you could call on your mobile in the 1980s/90s so that you could properly discharge your battery. The call would connect, nothing would happen and when your battery was fully discharged you could plug in its freezer-sized charger and charge it up for a full four and a half minutes talktime.
Nowadays, this service has been replaced by Orange’s 150 Customer Service number.
You do get music (of a sort) and a voice on a loop telling you that your call is important but everyone is currently doing something lots more important. Sitting with the mobile on loudspeaker today, it reminded me powerfully of the looping French distress call in the pilot of “Lost” (“Your call is important to us …Iteration 7294531… Your call is important to us …Iteration 7294532 …”).
And then after 20 minutes it cut me off.
I allowed myself 5 seconds to let the anger possess me and then used my inside knowledge of call centres. I called Billing - who are usually delighted to have someone on the line who is not yelling at them because the bill is wrong. The guy there put me straight through to someone who solved my problem in two minutes. Nice Save.
I got the boxed set of "Lost" Series 1 from a charity shop the other day and I urge any of the remaining half-dozen or so people in the world who haven't seen it to see it. Mrs. Stan needs to hide in a Sudoku book when it gets scary, but otherwise we're loving it.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
Today aint what it used to be.
I'm afraid it's going to be one of those old man rants ("I remember when chicken used to taste like chicken ...").
When I was 12 or so at school, we were given the task of writing about our favourite TV or Radio programme. Most did "Coronation Street" or "Multicoloured Swap Shop"" or Grandstand. I did the "Today Programme" on Radio 4. You can imagine the stick I got about that from my classmates.
The Today Programme began in the 50's as a pretty dumb show - light-hearted twittering in the morning for people who didn't want music. In the 1970s, however, the presenters were John Timpson and Brian Redhead, who was something of a hero of mine. There was an incredible chemistry between the two - Timpson, the Southern Tory and Redhead the Northern Liberal.
Actually, their political affiliation was official unknown but their insightful questioning scared the juice out of politicians of all persuasions. e.g when Nigel Lawson (Margaret Thatcher's Conservative Chancellor) accused Redhead of political bias his response was :-
There is on TV and radio no shortage of light-hearted banter and celebrity banter. There is however an acute shortage of hard news and comment. Which is why this morning's segment worried me somewhat
Can 19 year old soprano Hayley Westenra sing notes so high that only animals can hear her?
The previous day we had had a 35 minute interview with Tony Blair - and it was a pleasure to hear our leader sweat under an intelligent onslaught from John Humphries. This is what the Today programme is all about.
Someone tell me I'm worried for no good reason, and that Today will be making politicians sweat well into the 21st century.
When I was 12 or so at school, we were given the task of writing about our favourite TV or Radio programme. Most did "Coronation Street" or "Multicoloured Swap Shop"" or Grandstand. I did the "Today Programme" on Radio 4. You can imagine the stick I got about that from my classmates.
The Today Programme began in the 50's as a pretty dumb show - light-hearted twittering in the morning for people who didn't want music. In the 1970s, however, the presenters were John Timpson and Brian Redhead, who was something of a hero of mine. There was an incredible chemistry between the two - Timpson, the Southern Tory and Redhead the Northern Liberal.
Actually, their political affiliation was official unknown but their insightful questioning scared the juice out of politicians of all persuasions. e.g when Nigel Lawson (Margaret Thatcher's Conservative Chancellor) accused Redhead of political bias his response was :-
"Do you think we should have a one minute silence now in this interview, one for you to apologise for daring to suggest that you know how I vote and secondly perhaps in memory of monetarism which you have now discarded"
There is on TV and radio no shortage of light-hearted banter and celebrity banter. There is however an acute shortage of hard news and comment. Which is why this morning's segment worried me somewhat
Can 19 year old soprano Hayley Westenra sing notes so high that only animals can hear her?
The previous day we had had a 35 minute interview with Tony Blair - and it was a pleasure to hear our leader sweat under an intelligent onslaught from John Humphries. This is what the Today programme is all about.
Someone tell me I'm worried for no good reason, and that Today will be making politicians sweat well into the 21st century.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
For what shall it profit a team, if they shall gain the whole world, and lose their own soul
The best football in Britain is to be found in the poorest neighbourhoods. That's no accident - the top clubs were often started at the end of the 19th century by organisations in dirt-poor immigrant areas to give the young men something to do.
For example, Bolton Wanderers (5th in the Premiership) was founded in 1874 as Christ Church FC - a church sunday school team. Manchester United (1st in the Premiership) was Newton Heath LYR F.C. in 1878 - the works team of a railway depot.
I live in Wilmslow, Cheshire (average household income 25% above the UK average - £36,600) and my local club, Macclesfield, is not at all on the success vector.
The good schools and the low crime rate more than make up for that, but it does mean I need to commute 30 miles to get my football fix in Bolton, Greater Manchester (average household income 15% below the UK average - £25,000)
The majority of accents in the queue for the excellent half-time pies are local to the area. So I deduce I'm something of an exception and that most fans are locals and have to find the cost of pies, parking and a £500 season-ticket out of that reduced average income. Not to mention away games and the occasional foray into European competition. It takes a rare motivation to choose football over the other essentials in life.
As a result the stadium is rarely full and the management are constantly moaning about it. Finally they've done something and cut the season-ticket prices by 10%. Hopefully, that'll make the difference for a bunch of people between watching the game in the pub and coming along to be a part of the game.
An invitation to see a couple of Manchester United games recently gave me an insight into what happens when you price the local fans out of the stadium.
Old Trafford is a magnificent stadium - over twice the capacity of Bolton's Reebok stadium and much better equipped. But where are the Manchester accents ? And at my end of the ground you watch the game behind a glass screen which dulls the acoustic and you may as well be in the pub for all the emotional connection you get. And the pub is likely to be where you watch Manchester United unless you pay serious money (or blag some corporate hospitality like I did).
Bolton is a football club. Manchester United is showbiz.
It wasn't always so - Manchester United used to be very similar to Bolton. But they priced themselves out of the range of locals. They gained success, but lost their souls.
Hopefully now Bolton Wanderers can find their success without losing the people of Bolton.
For example, Bolton Wanderers (5th in the Premiership) was founded in 1874 as Christ Church FC - a church sunday school team. Manchester United (1st in the Premiership) was Newton Heath LYR F.C. in 1878 - the works team of a railway depot.
I live in Wilmslow, Cheshire (average household income 25% above the UK average - £36,600) and my local club, Macclesfield, is not at all on the success vector.
The good schools and the low crime rate more than make up for that, but it does mean I need to commute 30 miles to get my football fix in Bolton, Greater Manchester (average household income 15% below the UK average - £25,000)
The majority of accents in the queue for the excellent half-time pies are local to the area. So I deduce I'm something of an exception and that most fans are locals and have to find the cost of pies, parking and a £500 season-ticket out of that reduced average income. Not to mention away games and the occasional foray into European competition. It takes a rare motivation to choose football over the other essentials in life.
As a result the stadium is rarely full and the management are constantly moaning about it. Finally they've done something and cut the season-ticket prices by 10%. Hopefully, that'll make the difference for a bunch of people between watching the game in the pub and coming along to be a part of the game.
An invitation to see a couple of Manchester United games recently gave me an insight into what happens when you price the local fans out of the stadium.
Old Trafford is a magnificent stadium - over twice the capacity of Bolton's Reebok stadium and much better equipped. But where are the Manchester accents ? And at my end of the ground you watch the game behind a glass screen which dulls the acoustic and you may as well be in the pub for all the emotional connection you get. And the pub is likely to be where you watch Manchester United unless you pay serious money (or blag some corporate hospitality like I did).
Bolton is a football club. Manchester United is showbiz.
It wasn't always so - Manchester United used to be very similar to Bolton. But they priced themselves out of the range of locals. They gained success, but lost their souls.
Hopefully now Bolton Wanderers can find their success without losing the people of Bolton.
Labels:
bolton wanderers,
manchester united,
Opinion
Monday, February 19, 2007
Lithium
After watching the 9/11 Conspiracy Documentary on the (excellent again) BBC last night, I'm even more convinced than before that the only cover-up is around just how incompetent the US authorities were before, during and after the atrocity.
The programme following it unexpectedly gave some clue as to why people hold these way-out conspiracies.
The Last 48 Hours of Kurt Cobain is a very well put-together documentary starting out in the company of an astonishing Seattle Soccer-Mom who gives tours around the Kurt Cobain related sites in her SUV, all delivered in the manner of a suburban realtor.
Then it alternates between his life story and his progression through a packed last two days on earth.
Then he died, and that's when the story gets really weird. He appears to people in dreams, and crucially no-one can believe the banal truth of his death. The real wackos had probably fried their brains or topped themselves in the intervening 12 years, so in fact this is a comparatively sensible bunch of interviewees.
Fact : Around April 8th 1994 he reached into his SubZero (c) Fridge for a root-beer. Then he walked through to his greenhouse, took enough heroin to numb Michigan and shot himself in the head.
I really can't see there is need to doubt this. Just as I see no need to doubt that Elvis died on the toilet when the strain of passing a stool was too much for his drug-addled body.
To me, Occam's Razor Rules OK. People can die without the CIA and Aliens being involved in some plot.
It's hard to accept that a 27 year-old depressive poet junkie could let the fans down by ending it all. But it's part of being a grown-up to accept that bad things can happen for the simplest reasons.
btw. listen to some Nirvana - they really were quite something in their day, and the lyrics are amazing.
The programme following it unexpectedly gave some clue as to why people hold these way-out conspiracies.
The Last 48 Hours of Kurt Cobain is a very well put-together documentary starting out in the company of an astonishing Seattle Soccer-Mom who gives tours around the Kurt Cobain related sites in her SUV, all delivered in the manner of a suburban realtor.
Then it alternates between his life story and his progression through a packed last two days on earth.
Then he died, and that's when the story gets really weird. He appears to people in dreams, and crucially no-one can believe the banal truth of his death. The real wackos had probably fried their brains or topped themselves in the intervening 12 years, so in fact this is a comparatively sensible bunch of interviewees.
Fact : Around April 8th 1994 he reached into his SubZero (c) Fridge for a root-beer. Then he walked through to his greenhouse, took enough heroin to numb Michigan and shot himself in the head.
I really can't see there is need to doubt this. Just as I see no need to doubt that Elvis died on the toilet when the strain of passing a stool was too much for his drug-addled body.
To me, Occam's Razor Rules OK. People can die without the CIA and Aliens being involved in some plot.
It's hard to accept that a 27 year-old depressive poet junkie could let the fans down by ending it all. But it's part of being a grown-up to accept that bad things can happen for the simplest reasons.
btw. listen to some Nirvana - they really were quite something in their day, and the lyrics are amazing.
I'm so happy 'cause today
I've found my friends ...
They're in my head
I'm so ugly, but that's okay, 'cause so are you...
We've broken our mirrors
Sunday morning is everyday for all I care...
And I'm not scared
Light my candles in a daze...
'Cause I've found god - yeah, yeah, yeah
I'm so lonely but that's okay I shaved my head...
And I'm not sad
And just maybe I'm to blame for all I've heard...
But I'm not sure
I'm so excited, I can't wait to meet you there...
But I don't care
I'm so horny but that's okay...
My will is good - yeah, yeah, yeah
I like it - I'm not gonna crack
I miss you - I'm not gonna crack
I love you - I'm not gonna crack
I kill you - I'm not gonna crack
Labels:
9/11,
bbc,
Conspiracy,
Kurt Cobain,
Opinion
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