I didn't quite catch that...

People say that the Irish are a daft bunch, but we’re not.

FAT people have only themselves to blame, the Irish believe. Obesity is not caused by big bones, fast food or slow metabolisms, but the fault of consumers and their parents, a survey has found.

The research was carried out by the Food Safety Promotion Board (FSPB), found that big business and advertising were not being blamed for Ireland?s bulging waistlines. The vast majority of Irish people believed that the reason for obesity was over-indulgence.

Well, whadda know? I heard it best the other day: Energy in – energy out = energy gained. If you eat more than you use, it’s got to be stored somewhere. Is that the fault of the people who make the food, or of the person who eats with a shovel and then sits in a chair all day?

Of course, this all works out well for me, because, while I do eat like a horse, and I’m not big into exercise, I fidgit like nothing else. All those years at school and at home, when people would be telling me to sit still and stop fidgiting… well, who’s laughing now, huh?

Most also believed that the link between over-indulgence and television advertising was unproven. The blame for fat children was laid squarely with their parents. A massive 88% said parents had responsibility for their children?s obesity. But they agreed that help was also needed from schools, the food industry and government.

Hmm. Decision time: is TV to blame for everything? Do we all follow like sheep? No. And the Irish people agree with me, it seems. And I like that turn of phrase: help is needed. Not “they should do everything, because we can’t”. No, it’s up to individuals, with a little help from outside maybe.

The Irish: living by common sense since 1921. Now lets go get drunk.

I asked a few questions of Claire Short the other day, and an answer has arrived! If you count a front page article in a Sunday paper as a direct answer of course.

It seems that the answer is (a), malicious. Ickle baby Short was horribly forced from the Cabinet, so she decides to bring down the cabinet. However, her way of doing it suggests that option (c)Stupid/dumb isn’t totally out of the question, because she is a dumb, dumb person. And Option (b) is a killer, too. I’ll spell it out:

The work of the intelligence services is more important than any one minister, and one prime minister. It is more important than any cabinet, and sure as shit it is more important than any party. Ms Short, you have shown your true nature by using a method of attack that is infinitely more damaging to those who you are using than to the eventual target.

Now, her method has shown her genius. I suggest putting her in the Cabinet again. As, oh, head of Economic Development of Rockall, a post which requires full time residency in a tent on that rock. Or maybe a position in South Georgia, perhaps… I know! In Monserratt. Where she managed to piss off the local population a little a few years ago. I wonder if the tradition of throwing annoying women into volcanos can be resurrected…

A lot of the better, high profile bloggers seem to be dropping like flies.

Jackie now on some form of hiatus, USS Clueless is suffering from writers block, Rachel Lucas is gone, Eject!Eject!Eject! is being updated monthly and Acidman is acting weird. And talking about being arrested. Which is nice.

Oh well. May the lot of them come back soon, thats what I say.

Someone asked me there now, what film is Euan MacGregor best known for. Automatically, I said Trainspotting. This seemed to annoy the asker, who had been counting on me saying Star Wars, to prove his point.

By rights, of course, I should have said Star Wars, what with me being a geek and all that. But I think that, because MacGregor is only really borrowing someone else’s role, that it doesn’t really count as his.

Therefore, it seems to me that an intermediate geek would be excused for answering Star Wars, but a true geek, or a non-geek, would answer with anything but Star Wars.

Discuss.

Oh, and T-9 minutes until I can go home.

Right, do I want to be attempting for the whole door staff thing again? I notice that they’re inviting for applications for a big company. Descisions.

Hmm. I’ve got some qualifications in it, but let’s face it, I’m a lazy weedy fucker. so can i really be arsed.

I think that I may have to employ the old digital decision maker.

Will that woman not just shut up? I have a few questions for Ms Short.

• Are you being malicious? Is this some bitter attempt at revenge for some imagined slight? Are you annoyed that you actually had to make good on your threat to resign? Are you annoyed that people didn’t automatically accept your ramblings as valid policy for a nation of 60 million with a turnover of over $1,000,000,000,000? Do you think that the intelligence services are pawns in your strategy?
• Are you stupid? In the stupid/naïve sense? Do you honestly believe that the UN Secretary General should be off limits? Who else? Why? Do you think that the SG is totally upfront, and always acts in your nation’s interest? He’s a fucking politician. If you don’t know what that means, try this: scheming, two-faced, egotistical, selfish. Yes, he may be a “good” politician, but for most values of “good politician”, that means that they’d only throw other people’s children on a fire for warmth, not their own. There are exceptions, but they are so rare as to be classed as national treasures. You, Ms Short, are not one of them.
• Are you stupid (ie, dumb)? What strategy are you following? Are you looking for a spot in Gordon Brown’s cabinet in the future? ‘Cos if you are, showing yourself to be untrustworthy and unable to keep the secrets of state operations is not the best plan. Just a helpful hint.

If Ms Short replies, I’d be grateful. Can’t say I’ll hold my breath, though.

And she would do well to remember what “international relations” translates as: countries fucking each other. Conventions can look down on intelligence gathering all they want, but they aren’t legally binding. And even if they were, how successful has the UN been at pushing prosecutions anyway? Word of advice to the boys in blue: the rest of the world sucks it up when it’s found out that they’ve been spied upon. Then thay redouble their efforts to spy on the spies. Watch that, and learn.

I’ve said, many, many times before, that the West Wing rocks. So I thought I’d say it again.

Why now? Oh, because tonight’s episode just finished. That’s a new episode, just to annoy some people.

But hey. Personally, I like the show best when the Bartlett acts like we think a president can, but know that he can’t. Example: his first appearance started with

I am the Lord, your God, and you shall have no false gods before me.

… ending some seconds later with

You’ll denounce these people, Al, you’ll do it publically. And until then, you can get your fat asses out of my White House.

And tonights episode was much of the same. It’s all good. Hell, even Abby didn’t annoy me as much.

Oh, and Series 3 is out on DVD soon. Which is very nice. I may have to wait till the price drops a bit though… ?38 for a series does seem a bit steep, even if it is 22 episodes. I can’t afford to let a whole weeks cash go on one item like that… ‘Course, I will spend it, but I like to pretend that I have will power.

And so, to bed. What with having to get up before the crack of dawn to get to work in the snow. Bollocks.

Right, am I being strange, or is the whole story about spying a complete non-story? I mean, lets look at a few facts:

• Clare Short started it. A valid reason to ignore me thinks. Remember, this is from a woman who gave up her son, then reconciled the pair when it was most politicially expedient. Oh, and she’s a silly bint who resigned only after the 4,024,018th threat to do so. A person whose monumental sense of self importance was matched only by her idiocy. In other words, ignore what she says, ‘cos she’s daft. Her biggest achievement was a mention from the Plain English crowd.
• DUH! Of course the UK spies on the UN. And everyone it can, I’d wager. And everyone spys on the UK. It’s how nations work. It’s very difficult to defend a country while (metaphorically) standing in the corner with your eyes closed, saying “If I can’t see them, they can’t see me”. You can only protect yourself if you keep your eyes open and stay alert.
• Interesting. The spying upon foreign nationals on foreign soil was brought to light by people breaking the Official Secrets Act. Which would mean that a legal act was herocially uncovered… by breaking the law. Imagine that.

I find it really funny that the nation (or, to be more accurate, a nation’s media) is so scandalised by an allegation of spying while loving James Bond, and while holding MI-5 and -6 in such high regard. The UK is a nation which loves the SAS, yet deplores underhand fighting. That built the greatest empire the world had yet seen, yet gets squeamish about the thought of how they did it. As I say, funny.

But I digress. Do I worry about the spying issue? No. Everyone knows that every nation spys to the best of their ability. Hell, even political parties do. Neighbours spy on people. It’s wired into us: we know that it will work to our advantage if we can know more about the other guy than he knows about us. I’ll wager that the US spies on the UK, and vice versa. I remember a thing from a few years ago, where the UK was caught spying on France. I didn’t care then, I don’t care now.

The scandal at the minute isn’t that something new was revealed, or that it was even said in public. Hell, if there is a scandal, it should be that Clare Short was allowed the platform to say old things that people accept, but would rather not have to hear. It’s like hearing that the police have informants: we know that they do, and that they occasionally are allowed to get away with things in exchange for shopping others for bigger things. It’s just we’d rather not think about it.

If anyone can collect the above into a coherent arguement, feel free. I’ll keep the &coopy;, though, so nobody’s to get rich off of it.

Strange people are singing on the phone. During a business call. A call that I initiated.

Any suggestions as to how I can stop them singing, or end the call, without annoying a fairly important business partner, would be apprecialted.

UPDATE: It’s all Ok. They put me on hold. So, for the first time in my life, I’m happy to hear musak. The things this job make me thankful for are very disturbing.

I thought that the weather was bad yesterday. I was wrong. A couple of inches lying there, which is always a good sign.

However, there are good things. For one thing, people seem to be much better on the roads. I think that this is for two reasons: those people who are truly terrified on the roads (and therefore shouldn’t really be on the roads, but thats another point) stayed off; and everyone accepted that they will be allowed to be late, and so don’t have to be rushing everywhere.

It actually ended up with me leaving home ten minutes early (being aware that the traffic would probably be shat upon), and getting into work 15 minutes early. Which was plesant.

Incidentially, not everyone accepted that they should drive slower. The first car I saw on the motorway was pointing the wrong way on the other carriageway, with a police car in attendance. Oops. Taxi drivers should know better.

Weather report at the minute: either blazing sunshine, or blizzard. There doesn’t seem to be any inbetween, and during the sunshine periods, there doesn’t appear to be a cloud in the sky.

Which means, of course, that there is slush, except when it’s actually snowing, when you’re being blasted in the face by a blizard. Which makes it annoying to walk anywhere. The alternative is to drive the 400 yards to the sandwich shop, which is far too lazy to be contemplated.

Decisions. How I hate them.

… of a White… February… just like all I ever needed.

Yes indeed, ladies and gentlemen, it’s all go here. Snowing hard enough that my trye tracks are invisible, depite the fact that I only arrived ten minutes ago. And, having checked the gritting schedules, I find that my favoured route into work isn’t on it in February. Which means, more Motorway for me. And not being able to best 45mph for 19 miles of a 23 mile journey (covering motorway and dual carrageway) is not calculated to make me happy.

And, to celebrate minor milestones, during my journey, Milla covered her 2000th mile. Before I’ve had her for six weeks. Thank fuck I was able to get the insurance limit upped from 12,000 miles a year, that’s what I say.

There seems to be a lot of recent posts on this here blog about TV. Which could probably count as a bit depressing, but who cares.

Anyway, the point is: there seems to be another decent show about: Hustle. Made by the same people behind Spooks, it’s very similiar, but different enough to stand on it’s own. And it has a decent soundtrack, too. Considering it’s all jazz.

On a less good note, it’s snowing outside. Which means that I have to get up half an hour earlier tomorrow to avoid the traffic on the hilly route into work. Bugger.

As some may know, my nose will bleed at the drop of a hat. Very annoying, especially when you’ve got a cold, go to blow your nose and WHOOM! You’ve got a bright red tissue that is starting to swell.

This piece of unnecessary information was brought to you by a bloke who has spent 20 minutes in toilets this morning, and who is worried that everyone else in the office will start to think he’s on charlie.

Which is nice. Oh, if I had enough cash for a coke habit, I’d be laughing. And setting fire to tenners. But I digress.

It’s that time again! Oh yes, time for the staff newsletter. A bit of a let down, to be honest, but hey.

I mean, the smegging union did a much better job than this, and here has slightly more money than your average god and a couple more employees too. Good for a laugh, though. Which is what it’s all about, at the end of the day.

So, I’m in work early today, to allow me to get out a bit earlier to do a few message. Which is always a bad thing to have to do, but hey, that’s life.

Anyway, I’d like you to picture a scene.

• Heading into Belfast down the M2, there is a fantastic view comming down a big hill into the city, which is basicially surrounded by hills and thus is very pretty. Aw.
• The sun has just risen over the hills opposite the lough, again, very nice.
• There’s three ships making their way out of the harbour, sailing away on the Lough, which was a gold-y colour, what with the sun reflecting off it and all. Very picturesque.
• There’s a plane on final approach to the Harbour City Airport, basicially a silouette against the rising sun. Nice view.
• In the middle of this, there’s me, in a queue of traffic with a blinding headache and a growing feeling of deep hatred for some of the motorists around me, especially the guy in a navy blue Rover 45, who believes that, despite driving a 12ft x 6ft car, he can get into spaces of 8ft by 4ft. In moving traffic. At 70. Twat.

So it could very well turn out to be one of those days. Where, despite circumstances attempting to make it a very nice day, other small events conspire to make me annoyed. Yay.

On the plus side, how about Ireland yesterday? Discounting the final 15 minutes, they were on fire. Which is actual grounds for a heartfelt ‘Yay!’ So, Yay!

91% (Dixie). Is General Lee your father?

Right. How, exactly, does that apply to me? According to the test, I’m so southern it hurts. Which is very wrong, what with, hmm, me not being USian, let alone southern.

Oh well.

You know how you can rediscover things? Like, the other day, I rediscovered an album that I had neglected for too long. Chemical Brothers: Surrender.

On the other hand, sometimes it takes a while to realise something. Like: while the car is the first car I’ve owned, it’s also, by far, the best sound system I’ve ever owned. For years, I’ve done with cheap ass stereos, with terrible sound quality and no bass. But no more. Oh no.

Sometimes, one thing follows the other. Like: I only realised the second thing by virtue of rediscovering the first. Mainly because, on the second track of Surrender (Under the Infulence), there is a mad ass section on the bass. The treble basicially cuts out for 20 seconds, and a huge amount of noise then drops on the bassline. Huge. I’d always noticed this a bit, but in the car it was just fucking amazing. The whole car seemed to turn into a sub for a few seconds.

Yet another reason why (a) I’m a bit worried about the strangeness of the posting I’m doing recently and (b) why Milla is one of the best purchases I’ve ever made. If not the best.

The West Wing is back on fine form. A couple of lacklustre episodes there, but it’s back.

Oh, and Abbey is now starting to really annoy me. Always annoyed me a bit (for example: why does she demand such a big say in the running of the WW? Huh? Was her name on the ballot?), but now getting worse, and that despite being on screen less. Oh well. What can you expect from someone who is best known for being in Grease?

Again with the net failure. How, pray, does one work on a web-based system when the hosting company keeps messing up the permissions on their servers? Resulting in much use of the phrases “403″, “bastard” and “scum sucking child of the bride of satan, why won’t you work?”.

On the more amusing side, being in an office when 10+ people are simultaneously kicked out of the system is fun. I’d say that obseving different reactions was an intellectual exercise, measuring different people’s traits, but that would be a lie. It’d be more honest to say that it’s funny to hear a dozen people mutter “bastard” at exactly the same time…

I mean, it’s interesting when a dozen people speak exactly the same thing at the same time, but its better when they mutter it, while shaking their head and pushing the mouse away. It looks like little robots… Aw…