Sex and Sums and a Controlled Dose of Rock and Roll

How to feel good about any possible election result

steer — Thu, 07 May 2015 08:02:44 GMT

Edit: Well, this many not have been my finest bit of prediction ever. I think I will leave it here as a monument to failing to adequately plan for bad things happening.

So, we know that this election won't produce a clear result. It seems likely that Scotland will elect the SNP, England will elect the Tories, Wales will elect Labour, NI will elect... gosh, one of those parties that nobody ever understands or invites to debates because they're over the narrow sea and don't affect Westeros. This election has no certainties except, perhaps, that nobody will work with the SNP because... um... look, no deals with the SNP OK, so stop asking about that.

It's a confusing system and we're all seeking some crumb of comfort here. At this point we know that a Labour or Tory majority are extremely implausible and an SNP majority would require some pretty radical gerrymandering. So here's the run down of all the genuinely possible election results and more importantly how to feel good about them. The government formed will fully account for the likely votes of everyone in the UK. No wait, the government formed will fully account for the likely votes of everyone in Great Britain (except for viewers in Scotland who have their own programming at this time).

How to feel good about a Labour minority: This is a great result. Think about it. This is the Breakfast Club result. This is the weedy, weird-looking kid making good. This is the result you should hope for because it is a triumph for the forces of minor dorkiness. It's a slight triumph; it's a qualified triumph; to be honest it's going to take a good spin doctor to make it out to be a triumph at all; but for some that's the only triumph that they'll get. We should celebrate that, perhaps by awkwardly eating a bacon sandwich and listening to "Don't you (bracket) forget about me (close bracket)".

How to feel good about a Labour/LD/Green/Raving Loony Rainbow coalition: This is a great result. Think about it. This is the hippy primary school teacher result. Everyone gets to play. All the children who haven't been naughty ("Where do you think you're going Cameron and Farage?") get to decide what happens and play nicely together. This is the best possible, nicest, friendliest government that this country could ever have. Everyone gets a say, no matter how incompatible or borderline insane their opinions are. With this result we will be a kinder, gentler nation who also sometimes eats glue (although many of us advised that this would be a bad idea others were firmly in favour of eating glue).

How to feel good about a Labour/LD coalition: This is a great result. Think about it. This is the Mills and Boon result. Nick Clegg, his eyes sparkling and full of hope, the cruel shackle marks still visbile on his wrists, bounds over, free at last. "Ed, Ed, I've been a fool, it's always been you." This time it's different. This time things can work out. This time it's for real. Think of it as falling into the arms of the man you love after previously falling into the arms of the man you thought you loved before you realised his glaring flaws sometime around chapter three.

How to feel good about a Conservative/LD coalition: This is a great result. Think about it. This is the ruthlessly efficient result. When the government cuts your benefits, guts the NHS, reduces public services, sends soaring numbers to food banks and in the name of austerity removes funding to everything that was ever good about this country, you can be sure of one thing: they aren't doing this by mistake. You can be absolutely clear with this result that, through years of experience, none of what this government is about to inflict is through incompetence or an accident. They have a plan and they are exactly and precisely going to act on it. It won't feel good, it won't be economically prudent and it won't be to the good of the country but you can be absolutely assured this will be a completely professional transfer of wealth from the poor to the rich. Think of it as being efficiently and competently mugged by people much wealthier and more powerful than you. Isn't that somehow reassuring?

How to feel good about a Conservative minority: This is a great result. Think about it. Although I know and care about football as little as David Cameron, I believe this to be the Millwall result ("noone likes us, we don't care"). They have a coalition with nobody because nobody likes them and nobody will support them. Also there isn't, by the very definition of minority, very many of them. There is no way this can work as a minority government for long. If there's any place you've ever wanted to see David Cameron it's alone and surrounded by enemies. Think of this result as being like the end of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, only you hate Butch and Sundance and it doesn't cut away before the part where you get to see them get shot, repeatedly.

How to feel good about a Conservative/DUP/UKIP Alliance: This is a great result. Think about it. No, really think about it. OK, think about it a bit more. This is the Monty Python Yorkshiremen result ("you think you had it bad"). This is an election result you can tell your grandchildren about, if they live. You know with this result then any other election will always be a lesser evil. You will have bragging rights for the rest of your life. Imagine this hellish future. In the 25th century, the entirety of everything in the UK has been sold to the BarCapHSBC Alliance and you can barely afford to lease enough air to breathe. You crawl to the shattered ruins of a bar and some rudimentary Mordoch-owned system is beaming the State Opening of Parlimoids into your neocortex (plus 25 channels of sports and a terribly popular fantasy series that is worth the price of your soul and firstborn alone). Black rod is ushering the God-Queen Lizdianakateron (first of her name) to give her first speech to the United Kingdom of Kensington, Chelsea and parts of Richmond (everything else having ceded, been sold or sunk into the ocean because it was infested with foreign). The shambling (but 20th generation British) mutant at the bar turns to you and says "Gor blimy, I can't believe they've only gone and elected the Fleshflayinghellbeasts of Ultron VI" you can calmly respond "I take your point my hideous comrade that their platform of 'kill all humans and drink their blood' may seem extreme but let me tell you of the election of 2015 because that was a really bad result for humans in general and the UK in particular." You can be completely assured that this is the worst possible government that could ever happen and from hereonin the only way is up. After this we need fear nothing.

What the wild things are

steer — Thu, 04 Dec 2014 22:21:36 GMT

So apparently, an immigration lawyer wrote about Paddington and his immigration status. It's a good read. He claims that 'Mr and Mrs Brown could potentially face prosecution under section 25 of the Immigration Act 1971, entitled “Assisting unlawful immigration to member State”. The maximum sentence is 14 years.' Interesting article and fun in its way.

However, while I'm not a lawyer, I know some and it doesn't look difficult (*) so I thought "hold on, that's surely not what they'd be charged with". So a bit of google later and I get to the Dangerous Wild Animals Act 1976 and this seems a much more likely reason to charge Mr and Mrs Brown who are, after all, keeping a bear without a licence. It turns out that the Dangerous Wild Animals Act 1976 is my favourite bit of legislation apart from the Bees act of 1980. The Bees act contains provisions for the penalties if you refuse to let an appropriate person search a hovercraft suspected to harbour diseased bees: clause 2(1)b.

The fascinating thing about the Dangerous Wild Animals Act is that it lays out which animals are dangerous (and by their omission which are not). They are listed by their latin and common names.

For example, clearly: "Ursidae -- Bears" are dangerous and hence Paddington can only live with the Browns if the local authority (the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea in his case) grant such a licence. What other animals are dangerous? Here are some highlights.

Indriidae -- Leaping lemurs (including the indri, sifakas and the woolly lemur) -- I do wish the act contained the word "Batman" after Leaping lemurs, it sounds like the kind of thing Robin would exclaim to Adam West. I'm not sure what the specific lemur related danger is here but let us accept that it is the case that they are Dangerous Wild Animals.

Odobenidae, Otariidae and Phocidae, except Phoea vitulina and Halichoerus grypus -- The walrus, eared seals, sealions and earless seals (the common and grey seals are excepted). Great news for common and grey seal owners there.

Orycteropidae -- The aardvark. Fair enough an aardvark has large claws for digging into termite mounds however note the next part.

Hyaenidae except the species Proteles cristatus -- Hyaenas (except the aardwolf). Now this baffles me, especially as the Aardvark got a specific mention as dangerous in a line of its own. Who was sitting there in committee when someone said "hyaena's are dangerous" and said "Nah... the aardwolf's gentle as a lamb mate, I keep three myself."

Bradypodidae -- Sloths. Now you might sneer but actually sloths have some wicked claws on them. However, this is curiously specific. Bradypodidae are three toed sloths. Two toed sloths (Megalonychidae) are not covered by the act and I guess we can assume are safe. Similarly, should the extinct giant prehistoric sloth Megalonychidae be created in some kind of Jurassic Park (Oligocene Park in fact) way then that wouldn't be covered despite the fact it quite clearly would be dangerous. Don't you wish you'd been on this committee? "And now we come to the sloth? Ladies, Gentleman, is a sloth a Dangerous Wild Animal?" "I don't know, how many toes does it have?"

Ailuropodidae (Ailuridae) -- The giant panda and the red panda Aw... giant pandas, dangerous... surely not? But legally they are. In fact this is my very favourite bit because alert readers with a modicum of taxonomic knowledge will know that the Giant Panda is no longer Ailuropodidae (Ailuridae) according to most scientists and are now widely accepted into Ursidae following genetic studies in the mid 80s. However, this occurred after the Dangerous Wild Animals Act 1976 (that naturally occurred in 1976).

This brings me to the reason that it is my favourite act. Apart from the ridiculous list of animals it makes this clear statement. The only animal (**) that appears in the list twice is the Giant Panda and thus, in British law, it's clear that the giant panda is the most Dangerous Wild Animal of all.

(*) Joking -- obvs.

(**) As far as I know -- I'm as much a biologist as I am a lawyer.

Unconscious but breathing normally

steer — Wed, 17 Sep 2014 17:55:45 GMT

This morning I was heading into work (a bit late to be honest) and crossing Westminster bridge. Quite often there's a bagpipe player there. This morning he was crouching on the pavement next to a largish lady. She was dressed quite strikingly in a bright neon blue dress and bright yellow croc-like shoes. She was also very deliberately rolling on her side like a child on a lawn, heading rather determinedly across the pavement and into the traffic. I like a bit of street performance as much as the next person so I stopped to see what they'd do next. Perhaps a tune, a dance or some lines from Shakespeare? Unfortunately, what she did next was to continue rolling right into the traffic. He held onto her to stop her going any further and the two of us managed to crouch down and drag her back onto the edge of the pavement.

I put her into a rather poor recovery position but with her head resting on my leg not her hand so she'd be a bit more comfortable. She was out but with her eyes open and not responding to anything. According to the piper, she'd started shouting at him, in particular insisting that he didn't love Princess Diana enough. He was trying to reassure her on this point when she collapsed.

The piper and another passer by started to dial an ambulance when we encountered the "people of a certain age are hilarious with mobiles" phenomenon. "What number is it?" they asked me. "It's NINE NINE NINE," I said extremely clearly. "Really, even on a mobile, are you sure?" "Yes, I'm completely certain." (You can use 112 or 911 but I didn't want to introduce doubt at this point.) A little while later they were still consulting each other. I couldn't get my own phone at this point as it was in my pocket which is on my leg which was under the lady's head.

Fortunately, as they mastered the art of phone a passing GP stopped to help (immediately deciding her first priority was to phone her next appointment to say she'd be late). The helpful lady passerby had checked the unconscious woman's bag and found medical records, some pills and something that indicated she was diabetic. The GP took her blood pressure then within a few minutes a motorcycle paramedic and two policemen showed up. The lady remained stubbornly unconscious but breathing (initially with her eyes open which was disturbing) with occasional little twitches.

I spent the time crouched on the pavement telling the unconscious lady that everything was going to be fine and an ambulance was on the way. The paramedic helpfully chipped in with "haven't got no bloody ambulances, it's the cuts isn't it?" which we all agreed was shameful (and not terribly reassuring). A blood test was started and various suggestions were made (trying to establish if she'd hit her head) and I managed to find a position where I could rest my leg a bit because crouching down with someone resting on your thigh for fifteen minutes can get a bit uncomfortable.

We found out the ladies name from her medical record and just before the ambulance arrived she started to come round a bit and eventually say something about having a migrane. (There was an intervening period where she could only communicate by nodding her head or shaking her head very slightly and only I could really say which she'd done because her head was on my leg... so there was quite a weird "No, she didn't hit her head." "Yes, she has just come from the hospital." "I don't think she's going to be able to answer a question about the nature and frequency of her fits by nodding.") About twenty minutes after it all started the ambulance showed up and she was able to sit up and get a ride. I shook the bagpiper's hand (seems from his accent he was either English or very posh Scots) because she would have certainly rolled under a car had it not been for him. I've no idea what happened next except that I was thinking about it so hard I ended up riding the tube the wrong way for fifteen minutes.

Bet with andrewducker

steer — Sat, 04 May 2013 15:55:00 GMT

I am making the following bet with andrewducker related to voting systems

"I bet Andrew Ducker that before May 4th 2033 the UK (or that part of the UK which stays with London after any devolution) will retain First-Past-The-Post (FPTP) for general elections. Further, no English county council/unitrary authority elections (of the type described in [1]) will switch system away from FPTP.

The person who loses will buy the winner a drink of their choice (within reason -- pints of champagne or bottles of aged whiskey are out) in a bar in the winner's home city... presence over video accepted if distance precludes attendance in person.

[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_Kingdom_local_elections,_2013"

Reasoning: Unrelated to bet but this is why I think the above.

I believe that, for the forseeable future the majority UK (or at least the England part of the UK) has no particular desire for voting schemes other than the simplest. I believe that there are plenty of systems better than first part the post but I think my belief is a minority one. Some political parties who currently support FPTP will in the short term have an advantage in switching to a different system (the Tories are probably in this position right now). However, they would appear cynical to switch to such a system in the near future. For at least ten years we will have important people in their cabinets who have recently publicly spoken out in favour of AV (as a result of the referendum debates) -- more so for the Tories than for Labour (who had more people in favour of AV).

For ten years a referendum is pretty unthinkable (as we "just had one"). After that it will take a few years for a party to gain consensus for a referendum to occur. I don't believe traditional media owners (newspapers and TV) will switch their preferences on which voting system they like as FPTP seems to provide easier to report on clear victories and such media owners have a strong preference for simple stories. Without the support of major political parties or traditional media, it will be hard to generate any momentum to change the voting system.

I do believe that any new electoral systems in the UK are likely to use more sophisticated forms of voting and FPTP will be the minority in new elections (for example if we get more mayoral elections). New systems are easier to change.

A message to application programmers

steer — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 12:28:37 GMT

Your program is not the most important program in the world. It's not the most important program on my computer. It's probably not even in my top 10. Maybe at best I run it once a month. More likely I ran it once because I needed something to do that task and I'll get round to uninstalling it in due course. Please therefore:

1) Don't make a portion of your program load at start up. I know it may make loading your program faster (which I probably will not do in the typical month). I know it will mean I can get security updates (which I will not want or need unless I actually run your program). If you're a virus checker then you get a pass on this one. Otherwise, you might want to consider that 99 times out of 100 you are just annoying me by having your program do this. I do take the time and trouble to turn off the portion of your program that does this and I do become annoyed with you for doing it.

2) Don't update your program regularly (unless there's a security issue). Honestly, I don't use your program (whatever it is) that much. If you've introduced an epic new feature, I don't care... wait until there's ten epic new features please. Trouble me once every six months (at most). I've got around about 60 pieces of software installed right now. If you all update every month that's two updates a day -- in Windows, naturally each program has its own hand-rolled update process and they're all awful.

3) When I select close or press a button with a cross on it I want to close your program. You may think your program is terribly important and I don't really mean close. You may think I mean minimize and keep running. My computer has a button for minimize. If I want minimize I'll use that. I'm looking at you Spotify and you Skype. When I press the button that everyone else recognises as "shut down" then shut down. I know, I know, Skype, that means people won't be able to call me on Skype. I know Spotify, that means I won't be able to send and receive music. That is, in fact, why I pressed the close button. (I know I can find an option to re-enable the correct behaviour but I'm still annoyed at you for disabling the correct behaviour). [Edit -- and if you really believe novice users want skype to be still open when they click close, google how do I shut down skype or close skype.]

4) Don't dot crap associated with your program around my computer like a drunk shedding kebab wrappers. I don't want a shortcut on my desktop [Edit -- sure, put a default option to have it for novices but let me unselect that], I really, really don't want an eighteenth bundled toolbar on my browser. If I'm not running your program I don't want to know it's there. I don't want it taking a minute of my time. I know you probably get a fraction of a penny from a corporation somewhere every time you get your code to slip some crapware past me and install yet another browser bar or plugin but really, do you feel good about yourselves for doing it?

Some divers pee in their wetsuits... amateurs

steer — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 10:15:21 GMT

http://pics.livejournal.com/steer/gallery/00001kz4

The story behind this is that the ship Yolanda hit a reef (now named after it). I think this was some time in the late 70s or early 80s. Its cargo was bathroom fittings, mainly toilet bowls and baths. The wreck itself was washed into deeper water in 1987 and now lies at 202 metres, beyond the reach of all but the really crazed techincal divers. The toilets and baths, on the other hand, lie heaped up in huge mounds in relatively shallow water. At some point mischevious divers have arranged a few of them into this underwater rest stop. Caron and I dived it from the Blue Fin liveaboard last week and couldn't resist the photo opportunity.

And these ones are far away.

steer — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 10:23:18 GMT

Did I see Ardal O'Hanlon at the theatre last night? I guess that would have to be a matter for the philosophers(*). Certainly I went to see Port Auhority and Southwark Playhouse. Certainly I chose to buy the tickets in part because of his presence. The play itself is an interesting enough affair albeit slightly unconventional. Three disparate Irish characters (one young, one middle aged and one elderly) give interspersed monologues at best tangentially connected about their lives and lost loves. For me the middle-aged guy's story (of being whisked from a mundane life into a cocaine and rock-stars lifestyle) was the funniest and some lines were delivered with that beautiful deadpan pathos that works so well in a Dublin accent.

However, as I'd forgotten Ardal O'Hanlon was in the play, I did not immediately connect him with the middle-aged bearded man speaking. Well, when I say immediately, I mean "until I happened to be browsing the leaflet for the play this morning". This provoked a little mental pause. In my mind, he's still fresh-faced father Dougal and that was nearly fifteen years ago now. Even now, I can't really connect the performance I saw with the person I thought I was meant to have seen. Mentally, I'm trying to slip it sideways and say "maybe he was the younger one" or "maybe he wasn't there that night".

Did I see Ardal O'Hanlon in a play? In a philosophical sense I honestly can't be sure although it seems certain I have seen a play and he was in that play.

Edit: It has been pointed out in email by D. Muir that I missed a golden opportunity to say "That... would be a philosophical matter."

What to watch on TV

steer — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 18:43:43 GMT

So, Caron and I (like most couples) sometimes watch TV series. As it's now the future we're pretty much free to choose between any TV series ever made that enjoyed any degree of popularity. We tend to have different series to watch sober (intelligent and interesting) and tipsy (dumb but fun). The thing is that we've "run out" or rather we can't now find one that we both will watch. There's a fairly difficult set of criteria.

1) Nothing with spaceships -- probably no sci-fi whatsoever but let's leave some wiggle room here. Caron's not likely to watch such.
2) Nothing prominently featuring policemen and especially not pathologists -- crime scene may investigate what they like but I'm damned if I'll watch them doing it.
3) Nothing currently running (unless there are a few seasons in the bag) -- don't want to get into it and find it jumps the shark one season in.
4) Nothing which is a cartoon and in particular nothing which is South Park.

What we have watched or tried:
Intelligent series:
A) West Wing -- Both love this. Took a bit for me to get into it but the final three seasons are so compelling and the debate episode may be one of the best pieces of television ever.
B) I Clavdivs -- obviously a total classic. Although it seems a little slow nowadays and some episodes are interrupted with five minutes of me going "Who is that again and how are they related to the other ones?" or "Really, he's her grandfather? Really? Then who is her father? I thought he was the brother?"
C) Numb3rs -- could not imagine a worse series if I tried. Caron was willing to tolerate this but I am not. This series should be burned and the ground sown with salt. It should never have existed. Everyone involved should be shot repeatedly until they stop doing whatever they did to create this. My god, I can't express how genuinely putrid this show is.
D) 30 Rock -- I like but not love this but Caron is not keen. It's not really that clever though.
E) House of Cards -- about to start this.
F) Yes Minister/Prime Minister -- Both love this although it hasn't aged brilliantly and it's a bit simplistic in some ways.

Dumb series:
A) Black Adder -- Both like this but season one is not as funny as I remember it being.
B) Buffy -- Caron likes this, I tolerate this. The mayor character I liked but there were four long seasons after that and one long series with pitiful special effects before that. Fitfully watchable if tipsy or drunk.
C) Angel -- I am not willing to tolerate this. If I never have to see David Boreyanus do his constipated angst face again then my life will be improved. Burn it with fire.
D) Coupling -- Obviously a classic stupid series although season four was probably not necessary.

What we watch because it's on currently but doesn't really count as either intelligent or dumb series:
A) House -- Both love this although selachimorpha leapage for me appeared to set in one season ago. Still worth it for the occasional brilliant performance by Hugh Laurie especially the last two season openers. It's been in self-parody mode for seven seasons now though.
B) Doctor Who -- Both tolerate this although Caron is continually annoyed by Matt Smith's habit of not being David Tennant and by Karen Gillan's habit of being and I am continually annoyed by Rory's death-prone nature.
C) Oh god what's it called with Malcolm Tucker (god my brain) you know, that one -- both love this although one of us appears temporarily unable to remember what it is called and the other one isn't here. Oh god... I'm going to have to google it. Yes, The Thick of It. Course it is.

Lovecraft words

steer — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 17:46:17 GMT

Data obtained using grep -i (case insensitive) so gibber includes gibbering, gibbered etc.

eldritch 31
loathsome 75
squamous 5
batrachian 1
blasphemous 74
f(o)etid 28
gibber 22
nameless 222
tentacle 48
necropolis 3
cyclopean 78

Disappointing showing fro batrachian I thought.

New culinary low

steer — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 15:56:25 GMT

Today I reached a new low by failing to cook a Fray Bentos "put it in the oven in the tin and that's it" pie. For some reason the instruction to remove the lid before cooking had an "on no account" added to it. I remembered to open the tin but then left the lid on. This meant that the flaky pastry (the only really nice bit) welded itself to the lid. Fortunately, the heated metal disk with razor-sharp edges cauterised the wound it caused -- which is handy... I guess. I'll eat out tonight. It's safest.

How to report a strike -- a guide for the British press

steer — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 11:46:51 GMT

Here is my handy field guide for how to report on a strike for the British press. It's important that the multi-billionaires controlling the media can effectively get their view on labour relations out to the people.

1) Are many non striking people severely affected?
a) Lots of people are inconvenienced: Perhaps some people will need childcare, will not be able to travel or will have to stay at home. This can be conveniently characterised as blackmail -- it is well known that making it difficult to travel is very similar to extorting money. It's important to interview someone maximally inconvenienced. Perhaps you can find a mother standing in a queue to intereview. Ideally she should be holding a crying child in an airport or standing somewhere very cold. If the strike involves emergency services then why not include pictures of a fire or someone in an ambulance with the strong implilcation that deaths will result? The words "chaos" and "mayhem" are useful.
b) Very few people are inconvenienced: If the strike is not really inconveniencing anyone greatly then perhaps it does not need reporting at all even if it's quite widespread. If you feel for the sake of honesty it really must be reported then it can be characterised as ineffective. If the strike is so widespread that ineffective is not going to be believed but it is a public sector strike then perhaps you can quote a figure for "lost revenues" (implying that the public is losing money as a result of the strike). The words "dinosaur" and "out of touch" will create a balanced impression here.

2) What is the reason for the strike?
a) Wages: characterise the strikers as already overpaid or make this seem a selfish act. Good interview questions might begin "In this time of national austerity..." or "Against a background of wage cuts..." (after all, there is a background of wage cuts, that's why there's a strike).
b) Job losses: characterise the job losses as inevitable making the strikers seem out of touch. Emphasise recession and a background of job losses in this sector (although obviously if there weren't job losses there wouldn't be a strike). Good interview questions might begin "With your business struggling to survive..." (or if this is obviously misleading "With many buisinesses struggling to survive..." which is always true). An implication that the strike will finally finish off the business in question is helpful here.
c) Other non wage benefits: find some group which does not have such a benefit and draw a contrast. Ideally make the benefit in question seem comically over the top -- for example pensions can be characterised as "gold-plated" if provision of that type of pension rights are not universally available in the private sector. An interview to get the opinion of someone who does not have the benefit in question and is angry about this will provide a useful contrast. Strikes related to health and safety issues can always be made to seem ludicrous so a widespread use of the phrase "health and safety" can give the public the impressions that the strikers are losing a day's pay through sheer bloodymindedness.

3) Visuals:
a) The picket line -- while these are usually peaceful in this day and age, at some point it's likely you can find footage of someone shouting at someone else giving the impression that the union members are stridently trying to provoke confrontation. If you really can't find pictures of the few moments of ill feeling then simply picturing placards lying by the side of the road gives a pleasing feel of ineffectiveness.
b) The march -- if there's an accompanying march with speeches then make sure that any coverage of a speech is brief enough not to give any actual impression of what is said, but long enough to give the impression that someone is randomly harranguing a crowd. Nice close ups of socialist worker banners help reassure people that it is only marginal left wing elements which care about this.

4) Interviews:
a) Obviously the people you most need to hear from are those most directly affected by the strike, not people having their wages and conditions cut but someone who has to queue or even miss a day of work as an indirect result. As mentioned before, try to interview a mother holding a crying child if at all possible or an angry working class man (perhaps northern) who is late for something and can give a general impression that people with regional accents do not support the strike. The phrase "hard working families" is useful here (careful though, do not give the impression that the strikers themselves would work hard).
b) It's important to get both sides of the argument so you must also include an interview with a spokesperson for business. This can take place in a studio where a smart-looking reassuring man in a tie can make the case that striking is unreasonable. Perhaps a sound bite from a politician here about lost earnings, inconvenience to the public or generally that strikes must only ever be a last resort (allow the public to subtly take in the message that this is clearly not the last resort and the strikers are unreasonable).
c) If you feel you must include a viewpoint from someone in a union (remember they are biased) the best way to get this is probably to ask a difficult question of someone on a picket line. Keep trying this as eventually you'll be able to get an incoherent response.

5) Single images:
a) People being forced to sleep in their clothes due to a transport strike gives a pleasing impression that the strikers are unreasonable. Ideally find children and/or someone disabled who is affected.
http://www.channel4.com/news/spain-air-traffic-control-strikes-thousands-stranded
b) Abandoned placards can helpfully suggest apathy amongst strikers:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/poll/2011/nov/28/support-strikes-november-30
c) A padlocked gate (ideally with something rusting or chipped paintwork) gives a nice feel that the strike will lead to industrial decay within the period of the strike (usually only 24 hours).
http://www.thisisgloucestershire.co.uk/Gloucestershire-schools-closed-strike-action-list/story-13997586-detail/story.html

6) Support:
A strike can almost always be characterised as not well supported. Obviously any union member who did not vote would not have supported the strike. So, you can use this scale:
78% majority, 29% turnout = 23% (UNISON support for 2011 pension strike) -- strike is "not widely supported".
77% majority, 42% turnout = 32% (UCU support for "action short of strike" for 2011 pension strike) -- strike has "little support".
92% majority, 40% turnout = 33% (NHS support for 2011 pension strike) -- strike has "some limited support".
On no account point out that the 2001 Labour victory represented only 24% of voters and was characterised as a landslide.

*(in the UCU "action short of a strike" is usually more stressful but more effective than a strike -- support for strike was 58% majority = 24%)

Note: A few people have asked if I mind this being reposted or shared. Of course I do not -- the more the merrier, repost/retweet/share please.

On infant mortality

steer — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 22:15:44 GMT

On twitter I casually posted "Have you noticed that people usually give a weight when announcing births but almost never when announcing marriages or deaths." webcowgirl pointed out, almost certainly correctly, that this is because birthweight correlates with infant mortality. I would be willing to lay money this is where the tradition comes from. But you know, in this day and age we can do better. I solemnly swear that should I ever have the misfortune to produce offspring instead of a birthweight I will announce thus:
"Accounting for birthweight, gender and age of parents, a cumulative distribution function for the infant's age at death is attached as figure 1."
See, if we're going to predict mortality, thanks to the wonders of science we can do better than just weight. I urge any prospective geek parents to try this, indeed I'll even offer to help with the graphing.

This is probably why I shouldn't have children (amongst other reasons).

Tonight I am packing glowsticks... alas, in a sad statement on my life right now, this is not because I'm off to a 2002 themed club but because I'm going to spend Halloween weekend underwater in a flooded quarry in Wales.

Bands with long names

steer — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 16:04:02 GMT

This afternoon I've been listening to music from bands with long names. Started with the only moderately long: "A Place to Bury Strangers" and then went to "I love you but I've chosen darkness", "...And you will know us by the trail of the dead", "An experiment on a bird in the air pump", "The strange death of liberal england" and finally settling on my favourites, "The eighties matchbox b-line disaster".

I was running out of long names and didn't fancy "My life with the thrill kill kult" or "The presidents of the united states of america" which, despite being fine bands, just didn't fit my mood. So I googled long band names and discovered the existence of "The Powers Of Darkness Shall Rain Blood Upon This City For 500 Years". Unfortunately, I pretty much only discovered their existence. I could not find a track to listen to on the web anywhere. However, I was pleased to find that if I type their name into Amazon.com then the closest match is:
Organ Works by Ned Rorem, the track listing for this leads me to believe it is Quaker inspired church music. I wonder what search algorithm amazon uses? Try it for yourself -- mystifying:

http://www.amazon.com/s/?url=search-alias%3Dpopular&field-keywords=The%20Powers%20of%20Darkness%20Shall%20Rain%20Blood%20Upon%20This%20City%20for%20500%20Years

Shamefully the band had no biography on lastfm so I took the liberty of adding one. Feel free to edit:
http://www.last.fm/music/The+Powers+Of+Darkness+Shall+Rain+Blood+Upon+This+City+For+500+Years/+wiki

Star Trek

steer — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 18:24:09 GMT

Geeky I know but I've been rewatching Star Trek:TNG. This sort of thing happens loads:

"Computer, where is Lieutenant Spurious?"
"Lieutenant Spurious is not on the ship."
"Computer, how did Lieutenant Spurious leave the ship?"
"Unknown."

Seriously engineering dept, this is easy to fix.

while(true):
    for (person: ship.peopleMeantToBeHere()):
        if (person.getLocation == UNKNOWN):
            soundLoudAlarm()
        if (!person.onShip() && person.methodOfLeaving() == UNKNOWN):
            soundLoudAlarm()
        if (person.identity() == UNKNOWN):
            soundLoudAlarm()
        #Add more checks here to fix issues as they occur
    sleep(1000)

(Probably want to change that predefined UNKNOWN when moving from dev to production code).

Home sweet home

steer — Sun, 07 Aug 2011 22:27:59 GMT

This weekend was wonderful diving in Plymouth and two classic wrecks (Scylla and James Egan Layne), great company and great diving. However the weekend was made all the more sweet by arriving home to find my house cleaned hoovered and filled with beer by lovely housework gnomes Kriss and Kath. You guys can visit any time. Hope to see you both in person soon.

Radio four: getting off the news cycle

steer — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 22:08:05 GMT

On Facebook some friends were discussing the harmful nature of the "news cycle" and overly combative journalism with specific reference to Radio Four's "Today Programme". The need to provide "balance" can lead to a badger-baiting style of interview where either a one-on-one interview is unnecessarily adversarial (the interviewer tries to provoke the interviewee into a mistake or saying something controversial) or two interviewees with contrasting viewpoints are egged on by an interviewer who does little more than hold their coats and repeat variations of "Are you going to let him get away with saying that eh Slugger?" Another problem is that the need to be "topical" can lead to shallow coverage of stories which are quickly dropped and no "in-depth" analysis of events is ever given.

How can we obtain balance, study topical matters in depth and hear from all sides of the argument? Can news provide balance without degenerating into an unseemly and non-educational squabble? Here's my solution for radio four morning news coverage.

Monday: The Today Programme -- government spokespeople, service providers and similar "people in charge" are invited to comment on everything which happened in the previous 24 hours. They are listened to with polite deference and occasionally prompted if they forget something. James Naughtie sits gagged in a corner.

Tuesday: The Yesterday Programme -- a carefully chosen selection of relevant people who disagree with statements in the previous programme are politely invited to put their point of view forward about what happened on Sunday or early Monday morning. Sarah Montague makes a sympathetic "hmm..." sort of noise throughout.

Wednesday: The Day Before Yesterday Programme -- A selection of people who aren't really relevant to the events of Sunday or early Monday morning but feel they can add meta-commentary (or merely want to be on the radio) are given air time to say what they will. Evan Davies tries but fails to show enthusiasm.

Thursday: Thoughts for the previous days -- A hastily assembled mixture of religious people (all from minor churches you haven't heard of) gather around Brian Redhead's grave and speak in earnest but soothing tones about how terribly confusing this week has been. Later atheists fulminate.

Friday: That was the week that was -- John Humphreys (who has been forced to listen to the previous four days' broadcasts and fed nothing but raw steak and whisky throughout) snorts cocaine, breaks the furniture and shouts wildly but incoherently. Guests from previous shows during the week are invited to get into a knife fight with him if they really want to prove their point.

This provides a complete mix of in-depth coverage while allowing presentation of all viewpoints and an opportunity for robust debate. I can see only one small problem: only news which occurs on Sunday or early Monday (at a pinch late Saturday) will get coverage. Possibly things which might be about to happen on Monday or early Tuesday could have some attention. The rest of the week would have to rely on other news sources. Really though is it worth sacrificing depth and quality of debate merely for wider coverage?

Fat duck

steer — Thu, 21 Apr 2011 11:26:48 GMT

I'm not sure if a meal can be said to include "spoilers" but for me a part of the Fat Duck experience was the unexpected things. Perhaps, therefore, if you want to eat there you might not want to read this. Thanks so much to Kriss, Claire, Helen, Sarah, Ed (I'm sure I missed someone there and will be horribly embarrassed when I remember) and especially Caron for organising. Executive spoiler free summary: If what you want from your food is a taste experience you will always remember then this is likely unbeatable. If what you want from your food is "delicious" then you might be less impressed. If you're pescetarian it's less satisfying and if you're vegetarian I imagine this problem is exacerbated. If you're not someone who relishes unusual tastes it would probably count as a bad meal. I would definitely go again (not that *I* could afford to go even once) but only if I knew the menu had changed significantly. Caron has pictures (they allow/encourage pictures but no flash so as not to disturb other diners) but since she's around 6 months behind putting pictures online then don't hold your breath for those. I'm going to steal someone else's pictures.

So, Caron and I were at the Fat Duck for the "tasting menu" experience which is 14 courses with wines chosen to match (there are three "wine accompaniments" which you can pick from, ruinously, ludicrously and gibbering-insanely expensive).

After you are seated, the waiter asks you about any food allergies or no-nos. For me amongst foods usually eaten this is only mussels (make me ill) and cephalopods (ethical reasons) none of which were on the menu (but see later).

1) Nitro Poached Aperitif -- this is quite famous I believe. It's a foam of your choice (from three drinks, I had vodka and lime) "poached" in liquid nitrogen at your table. This produces a cold white disk which you place whole into your mouth where it then "pops" like sherbert. While this happens the waiter sprays a citrus perfume over you. The sensation is momentary but fascinating. It feels cold on your tongue, suddenly pops, dissolves and is gone in a sprinkling of fine powder. While it does have an attractive and delicate taste you only get a momentary whisper of the sensation and it is gone. The point for me is the theatre of watching the white disk poaching in the evaporating nitrogen as it bubbles away.

2) Red Cabbage Gazpacho with Pommery Grain Mustard Ice Cream -- cabbage, mustard and ice-cream together at last. Individually the tastes aren't what I would call nice but boldly tasted together somehow the fusion of it works. Still, not my favourite course and Caron declared it "minging" (but she doesn't like red cabbage at all).

3) Jelly of Quail, crayfish cream, chicken liver parfait, oak moss and truffle toast -- the serving here is amazing. You get a little white pot containing three different layers of flavour and also a tiny thin slice of toast with truffle coated over and an arranged to look like a blanket at a picnic with plates. Before you eat it you place an edible film (rather like those "breath freshen" things you get in boots) intended to give you a flavour of earthiness. Meanwhile the waiter drizzles dry ice over a bed of turf so you eat this course with cold refreshing dry ice falling across the table falling out of what looks like a swamp bed. This was the first "veggie substitution" for Caron (something involving, weirdly, frozen peas -- yes, still frozen as she ate them). We both loved this, excavating the layers of taste in the little pot gave it a feel of an archaeological dig and they were all exquisite.

4) Snail porridge, Iberico Bellota Ham, Shaved Fennel -- the snail porridge is probably the most famous thing about the menu but it's not really that memorable as a taste. I've had snails before and never been terribly impressed (my friend Pete Fenelon once described the taste as "like pencil erasers in garlic" -- snails really only taste of the sauce they're in). Here, though the snails are rather a side issue to the luscious green pea coloured sauce. Caron felt the vegetarian substitute was not much to write home about.

5) Roast Foie Gras, rhubarb, braised konbu and crab biscuit -- Actually, I don't these days eat foie gras (after reading an EU report on the matter). However, I'd inadvertently already ordered it and the goose in question wasn't going to be untortured so I decided to press on. This was absolutely delicious. The crab biscuit was some kind of crunchy caramelised flat slim plane sticking out of it. The foie gras melted in my mouth as it should (indeed it was the best foie gras I have ever had). The rhubarb was a surprisingly attractive accompaniment. Probably the best tasting of all the courses so far -- which doesn't mean I'm going to change my mind about foie gras (I already knew what I was missing) just that I will be more careful not to order it. Caron's veggie version of this was "OK but not amazing".

6) Mock turtle soup "mad hatter tea" -- this is inspired by Lewis Carroll. For those not in the know "mock turtle" soup was actually calves head and feet. In the spirit of the mad hatter tea party a gold watch (genuine gold leaf) filled with something cow derived is dissolved in hot water then poured over your dish to make the soup at table. It's fascinating to watch the watch -- beef consomme is not at the end of the day, that fascinating a taste though and gold foil (even quite large bits) don't taste of anything. But who cares, look at it. Again here the vegetarian version was less good. For physics reasons the gold watch arrived pre-dissolved (apparently the veggie version needs more stirring and dissolving) which I know would have made me pout in disappointment. I did, however, love the crazed experience especially of the mushrooms growing through jelly, as a food it felt "mad".

7) Sound of the sea -- the presentation here is beautiful. The waiters do not tell you what you are eating until after you finish it. You get a wooden tray filled with sand covered in glass on which rests something that looks like foam and flotsam on sand. Where the sea meets the shore is sushi and what looks like (and indeed is) seaweeds of various types. While eating you listen to an mp3 player playing sea-sounds (in a conch shell) and drink sake (I got a double helping as Caron hates sake). The "sand" turns out to be ground tapioca, a surprisingly delicate flavour (I thought it had some crab taste to it but this is surely auto-suggestion bought on by the sea theme). The foam was seaweed flavoured (a little salty if anything). The point though is the experience which I genuinely savoured. My love of the sea meant that I enjoyed the sensations and memories evoked by this dish as much as the tastes. Irritatingly though the ipod nano clicks when the track loops (after about 1 minute) -- I'm a bit of a freak when it comes to audio glitches (I just can't listen to a badly tuned radio). Overall though a wonderful experience and the sort of magic this meal should be about.

8) Salmon poached in a liquorice Gel, Asparagus, vanilla mayonnaise and golden trout roe -- the taste was great but I've not too much to say about this except for my bafflement as to quite how it was made. I love the feeling of roe popping in my mouth. It's the sort of food you would get in a restaurant that was merely very very very good.

9) Anjou pigeon, blood pudding, risotto of spelt and umbles -- umbles as I guessed (and you may have too) is code for offal (which I mostly love) and this comes with a little teapot filled with various things which might be reassembled into the working parts of a pigeon. Spelt looks (and tastes) curiously like sugar puffs it seems. The pigeon was gorgeous though. A great tasting course although devoid of too many "tricks". This was the only point where the pescetarian version departed significantly and Caron had turbot which she loved (although we both noticed that the "selected wine to accompany each course" was the same for mine and hers).

10) Hot and Iced Tea -- I didn't know what this when it was served was but it was genius. By making tea into a thicker gel it could be served so that one side was hot and one side cold. This produces a mild version of a tactile illusion I first experienced at the Exploratorium in San Francisco where hot and cold together feels different to the sum of the two. (Indeed done in a certain way can feel like scalding pain while not being very hot at all). This is a wonderful experience I thoroughly recommend even though it actually tastes merely of thick tea. This course made me go "Wow!"

11) Taffety tart, Caramelized apple, fennel, rose and candied lemon -- this tasted excellent and beautifully presented. Caron was in raptures over it though I do not have much of a sweet tooth.

12) The "BFG" black forest gateau -- a second dessert and this one again very sweet. The accompanying icecream had a gorgeous aftertaste of kirsch but only at the last minute as it dissolved in your mouth.

12.5) Cheese course (unpictured) -- because we felt that only 14 courses wouldn't be enough we added a cheese course. There was a brilliant selection including a rindwashed monstrosity that I recalled stinking out my whole flat a few years ago despite being in a tupperware container in the fridge (it was still able to make a smell detectable from the hallway after only a half day). What can I say, if you like cheese, they've got cheese.

13) Whisk(e)y wine gums -- this was my favourite dessert. Some years ago I got into my whisky (but never whiskey) and went to tasting sessions. These days I almost never drink it and could probably barely distinguish. However, the concept here is beautiful. Five "wine gums" are stuck to a map (mostly Scotland but also Tennessee to get Jack Daniels, a Tennessee Whiskey not a Bourbon as many people believe). You peel each off the map in turn and let them dissolve on their tongue. While a whisky purist might sneer I genuinely think I could have placed the Laphroaig (always a favourite of mine) and probably the Jack Daniels (never a favourite of mine). Highland Park had its distinctive creaminess which I also remember well from my whisky days. This was an absolute delight and we couldn't help giggling despite disagreeing on whether to eat them in numeric order (Caron's choice) or "nicest last" (mine). We compromised on numeric. I'd have preferred to end on Laphroaig but Caron hates that and we wanted to be tasting the same one at the same time. This course made us giggle.

14) "Like a Kid in a sweet shop" -- to go home you get a candy stripe sweet shop bag of goodies. This includes "Aerated chocolate" (lovely taste but not that exciting), "Coconut baccy" (tobacco infused coconut shavings which look like rolling tobacco -- lovely if you like coconut), "Apple pie caramel" (which you eat with the wrapper on and it tastes divine) and "the queen of hearts" (an edible playing card in an envelope with an edible seal -- I have no idea by what magic this is made as the picture does not appear to be an edible transfer. Caron: "How did you know the seal was edible?" Me: "I ate it." Caron: "!")

Overall would I recommend it (bearing in mind I wasn't paying and can't afford it)? Absolutely, yes, but with many qualifications. If you're the type of person who regularly goes "I don't like that" about food you're not going to enjoy this too much. It's an experience of unusual flavour combinations not all of which you will necessarily like. The menu doesn't "play safe" by giving something that everyone will like. They will cater to all your food quirks for sure but you may feel you're not getting what you're meant to be getting -- you will still receive a printed menu of what you ate on the day (specially printed for you) but occasionally it was clear that the vegetarian version was a "copy" not the real meal. In many ways this is not laziness but simply a hard problem to avoid, the tasting menu is a particular journey, there are fourteen courses you are meant to be eating in a particular order. If you have to take another path because you don't eat (or like) a particular food then it's always going to seem like a side road and I don't see a way around this apart from making all the food inoffensive to any taste (which would ruin it for everyone). On occasion, the theatre went ahead of the taste. I am glad because I was there for the fun, the theatre and the spectacle of it, many people can make things that really taste jolly good but you know, I can get that in loads of places. This meal feels more like an adventure than simply an attempt to consume pleasant taste sensations and, for a special occasion, that's quite definitely how I prefer it.

And we would circle and we would circle

steer — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 00:37:39 GMT

At 13:30 we kitted up and headed for the boat. The divemaster Charlie told us what to expect. "You're going to be diving to 80 feet in a fast current. You're going to dive with much too much weight. You will stick to the bottom and you will thank me for this. There will be a rope and I will point to the rope. Hold on to the rope. You will see sharks as you go down. Ignore the sharks, swim to the rope and lie down holding the rope. Do not attempt to pet or touch the sharks. You will want to pet the sharks and you will see me touching the sharks. I am wearing chainmail and you are not. After twenty five minutes you will need to surface. When you get to the surface inflate your buoyancy device and try not to move too much."

We descend fast in clear water over a sandy bottom. Charlie pointed to the rope and we held on. Below us we could see the unmistakable blunt noses of bull sharks, several bull sharks. They're wide, heavy-set but somehow graceful. The largest is about 3 metres, the smallest (just a baby) less than a metre. We grab the rope. Sure enough there's a ripping current blowing and if I even try to sit up I feel I'm going to be blown over. Caron has grabbed the rope next to me and we hauled ourselves along, a row of five divers and about nine or ten bull sharks.

Charlie in his chain mail is reaching into a metal cannister just opening it a little to get blood in the water. He's maybe five metres from us. The sharks know what to expect here, they start to circle. Because Charlie is close to us the sharks circle not just him but us as well. There are too many to watch all of them. Some come in fast, others more cautiously. The water is also full of remoras (shark suckers) who flock following the sharks and then following us, swimming up to our masks to see if we're suitable fish to follow. There's other fish too, jacks and smaller fish hoping to get in on the dangerous feast.

The sharks get close, very close and you know, like Charlie said, I did want to pet them. One of the divers actually did disobey instructions and pull a fin, fortunately with no ill effects. Charlie, on the other hand is used to the sharks. He feeds them by hand (with chain mail gloves) and they make that curious "wolfing" motion bulging their gills as they swallow. He pets them on the nose like dogs and pushes them back if they get too inquisitive. They nose about eating tuna and investigating things -- one takes a bite of the camera stick but spits it out again. Another decides to nudge the cannister with the food in it. A third, cheekily, takes a bite out of one of the jacks trying to muscle in, tearing off a bit of a fin as a warning.

For twenty five minutes we are completely surrounded by sharks, behind us, in front of us, swimming over us and to the side. You can look them straight in the eye, but you don't really know if they're looking back. It would be all too easy to reach out and touch them. One bumps my neighbour's camera and he jerks it back in alarm. Then, all too soon, time to surface, we let go of the rope and (a nervous moment for me at least) put air into our buoyancy devices to head back to the surface.

[Caron has some video and still footage of the whole thing but for now you'll have to make do with youtube from phantom divers the company we dived with -- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v9bJlwAIH0Y http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQNqiK9DC4g&feature=related]

Tipu Sultan

steer — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 17:17:35 GMT

You know my very favourite moment in Dragons' Den was where Theo pulled the tail off Trunki the ride on suitcase. Here's a link if you've never seen this particular highlight of modern culture it, like everything else important that has ever happened this century is on youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiFVdvU10L4

Essentially, the hapless entrepreneur is trying to out a plastic ride-on suitcase for children to a bunch of self-regarding and often half-witted rich people. As the entrepreneur is extolling the virtue of plastic ride-on suitcases for children a rich Greek person pulls part of the suitcase off and disaster ensues -- the entrepreneur leaves in shame with no investment. However, the story has a happy ending as, as you might imagine, it turns out that small children are not so strong as fully grown Greek men and Trunki is now widely available in shops. You may not immediately see the connection to late 18th century Indian politics or the works of Shelley. I'll come to it.

Of late the original Trunki (in cute colours) has mutated into animal Trunkis (Trunkii?). In particular there is Gruffalo Trunki but then, at the current rate of expansion, you will be able to buy any known product in the shape of a Gruffalo as soon as 2020 (in fact unless this ugly trend turns around it is likely that the first crewed Mars mission will be in a Gruffalo-shaped space module). Anyway, a relatively recent edition to the range is Tipu Trunki which is in the shape of a tiger (more strictly in the colours of a tiger as all Trunki are more or less the same shape only the colour varies). I presume that this is a reference to Tipu Sultan (the Tiger of Mysore) who ruled a large part of India up to 1799 (and also appears in a Sharpe novel). Tipu adopted the tiger as his symbol and, indeed, after the son of a British general was mauled to death by a tiger he commissioned a large automaton of a tiger mauling a redcoat which contained within it a pipe organ which could be played to apparently make the sounds of a tiger mauling a man to death. I say apparently because I've never heard the tiger played, although it's in the Victorian and Albert museum it's behind glass because visitors to the museum were continually annoyed by the mechanically reproduced sounds of a tiger mauling a man to death (which I can imagine becoming wearing after a time). Anyway, I digress (often) and am coming to the point. Still, it's hardly an image suitable for children is it?

A few years ago, I noticed that my heater for my shower unit was labelled Poseidon, presumably after the Greek god of the sea (rather than the disaster movie) and at the time I thought "that's a bit of a come down really for Poseidon". I mean one day, you're cock of the walk, god of the entire sea with sailors begging your help, the next you're heating up water for some bloke to scrub himself down (well presumably for lots of people, I'm assuming Poseidon manufactured more than one of these). To be fair he (Poseidon) also gives his name to a major manufacturer of scuba equipment and doubtless lots else. Still, it's a big come down from being a god.

It's a similar come down for Tipu Sultan: one day the scourge of Mysore, so important in global history that his wikipedia entry is almost as long as that for Mission Impossible the TV series. A little over two centuries later he's a novelty ride-on suitcase for children. This reminded me of course, of Shelley's famous poem but a diligent websearch found that far from "nothing beside remains", Ozymandias (Ramases II), in fact lives on as:
a) Ramases II battle tank (an egyptian modification to the T-54)
b) Ramases the bighorn ram (mascot of a team in some US sport or other)
c) Ramases consulting, "Specialists in damage management" (presumably with special responsibility to ancient damaged statues).
and doubtless many more I can't quite be bothered to type in. I'm sure this would be of some comfort to him. If he were alive today he could probably sue.

When maths goes wrong

steer — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 15:51:14 GMT

Here are some slides from the talk I'm giving tomorrow. It's not always the case that I succeed with the hard sums I set out to solve. Barbie image is inspired by an icon from easterbunny.

Update -- bet nobody else ever got
LaTeX Error: File `barbie-hates-math2' not found.

LIfehacks

steer — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 09:32:57 GMT

Various people posted a list of lifehacks. Here are my lifehacks for people with crap memories. You may say "Steer, you have a really crap memory". Example, the other week I bought a coffee and sandwich in a service station and drank the coffee in the car. Caron said "did you eat your sandwich?" I honestly could not remember. It was at most two minutes previously. It is true that I have a crap memory but you would not believe how crap my memory would be if I did not use these techniques.

4) Bog roll pill reminder -- if you need to take a pill with any kind of weekly cycle (in my case calcium supplements) but you lead the kind of lifestyle that means you might not necessarily remember if you have or have not taken today's then you can make a simple reminder with the end of a bit of bog roll (and possibly blue tack). Cut down the bog roll so you get a simple band. Write the name of the days of the week that you need to take the pill around the band and put it over the pill bottle (if the pill bottle is too small use the blue tack). The pill bottle usually has some kind of directionality (the arrow on the child proof top). Set the bog roll so it indicates the day you most recently remembered to take the pill. You buy days of the week pill boxes but this works as well and costs nothing and doesn't require you to preload the pill box.

3) Name memorisation through constant repetition. I am useless with names. I've never found many of the touted techniques in memory books work for me. One thing that does work for me is in mid-size meetings (10-15 people sort of size) or in lectures if you're not talking 100% of the time (and if it's a mid size meeting you probably shouldn't be) take an idle moments (that you would normally use for sexual fantasies or gazing blankly out of the window) to survey the participants and name them to yourself -- if you can't name some, ask someone else at the next break until you can name them all. This weekend I was running a course with 15 participants only 5 of whom I knew and 1 I had met before. I was able to remember all the names (two of them kept swapping a bit) for all of the weekend. This may seem unimpressive but without this technique I'd probably have remembered only 7 (including 5 I know well and 1 I'd met before).

2) Digitally enhanced memory for appointments with set date/times or mid-long term tasks (need to be completed in days or weeks). The moment an appointment is made enter it in the calendar in your mobile phone (tell the person what you're doing so it doesn't look like you've just stopped the conversation to text). The moment a mid/long term task is assigned enter it in the task list in your mobile phone. Note to people with old clunky phones -- your mobile phone is almost certainly *not* too old to have this functionality. Even clunky old brick phones can do this -- every phone I've owned in the last 15 years can. Transfer the appointment to a task list or paper diary or electronic back up at some point. [Some people do this task with a paper diary -- this doesn't work for me, the diary can't make appointments for next year, can't be backed up, can't make recurrent appointments for birthdays and anniversaries and can't sound alarms when meetings are near]. Mobile phones can set alarms for months in the future using their calendar feature. Online calendar tools can send reminder emails if you prefer that but you can sync them to your phone. I estimate I have about 100 alarms set on my mobile phone currently and a further 100 events "coming up" from weekends away to people's birthdays.

1) Jewellery enhanced one-bit memory for short term appointments with uncertain but short timescale -- this is my favourite because it's so simple. It's essentially a variant of the knotted hanky to remember something but I don't carry a hanky and even if I did I would not look at it that often. Most people have some piece of jewellery (watch or ring-that-you-always-wear is best) that they wear on one side of their body habitually (watch on left hand, ring on ring finger). If someone says "remind me to do X when we get to the venue" or "look out for a cash machine" or you think "must remember to turn the heating on when I get home" -- the sort of task that you can't set a phone alarm for because you don't know when it occurs and you can't put on a task list because you probably don't look at the task list often enough to help. Take you piece of jewellery and transfer said piece of jewellery to the opposite hand. It will feel slightly weird -- you will remember the thing you need to remember. This is only good for short term things (30 minute sort of duration) because otherwise you will acclimatise to having the piece of jewellery on the "wrong" hand/finger. However, if you're like me, the strange "jewellery on wrong hand" feeling will be enough of an impetus to really make you want to complete whatever memory task you're assigned. Despite my really poor memory I can't think of an occasion where I've moved the jewellery and then forgotten the thing and I've been doing this for about five years I think. (Of course I could have forgotten the occasions I've forgotten).

Damn clashing gigs

steer — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 19:04:12 GMT

Because it clashes with BSP and Manics at Brixton I'm selling my ticket to see Swans at Koko on 28th October.

Scotland the brave

steer — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 19:02:22 GMT

I've just got back from the wild north. Very wild and very north in this case -- we were in Lochaline on the Sound of Mull, diving and what a great trip.

We dived Capernwray on the way up, the first place I ever dived. It now contains a huge jet plane. We swam through the hold and pretended to parachute jump out. I sat on the tail and pretended I was flying. I reenacted an incident of panic from my first dive involving a fairground horse. At the deepest part we found a gnome garden and a huge pig statue which was using a rabbit vibrator.

We dived the wreck of the Hispania, a small but very intact wreck from the fifties which feels slightly sombre to me as the captain went down with the ship.

We stopped for lunch in the small village of Tobermoray with its brightly coloured houses and tramped through the place in our dive gear noshing on pies and watching the sea.

After dark we donned glowsticks and torches and made a ridiculous dive round the local harbour. The dive was rarely so deep that we could not stand up and our shore cover could see everything we were doing as could gawpers in the local pub. We spent the time searching for "treasures of the deep" which in this case was whatever junk people throw off the harbour, taps, spoons and millions of scallop shells. At one point we uncovered a recent fish carcass with dozens of green harbour crabs climbing over each other to gnaw it. It was a scene which would give Lovecraft a shiver of horror.

We caught scallops, cooked them from fresh and served them in shells in a cream and leek sauce. Nothing like eating something you caught yourself.

Porpoises chased our bow wake on the way back home.

When we got back on the final day the tide was too low to moor and the skipper made up don dive gear and swim to shore. The locals were somewhat amused by a full boat heading past port and pushing all its passengers off the back as I trudged dripping up the steps a man stood gawping at me. I just said "I think we really upset the captain somehow" and went to pack my gear.

Leading an epic life

steer — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 15:54:32 GMT

I should be working but I can't help sharing my love of NMAWorldEdition. It is (as far as I can tell) a genuine taiwanese news channel which livens its (fairly straight) news reporting with some slightly over the top animations. I love the contrast of the fairly routine news stories with the animation.

Google privacy concerns:
http://www.youtube.com/user/NMAWorldEdition#p/search/0/YncVKgpTd6E

Ground Zero Mosque controversy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmyzRVI9PIM

UK woman sleeps with 5000 men:
http://www.youtube.com/user/NMAWorldEdition#p/u/13/pUxipyouZuM

I wish I could afford to pay them to animate scenes from my life -- I think it would make my life seem more epic if it were reconstructed using machinima.

Excuse me I think I'm going to scream

steer — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 18:19:28 GMT

I really think I'm about to scream.

Yesterday morning, in a weary slump, I leaned slightly forward while taking my underwear out of the wardrobe. This wouldn't be a problem but my underwear is in one of those weird dangling fabric things you put inside wardrobes. I'm not sure what you call those things. The hanging undercrackers of Islington. Anyway, the point is by leaning forward I tore off the final part of the fabric and velcro attachment that makes the hanging dangling thing hang and dangle... instead it turned into a drooping flopping thing. A disappointing start to the week.

Undeterred I decided immediately to buy one and (in consultation with Dr T over an acceptable lunch at the Squat and Gobble) that Argos was probably my ideal place to buy one (his ideal place to buy one is probably Lombok if you can get them made in recovered Chinese walnut). So I argosed it up and with surprisingly little queuing (or human interaction) made my purchase and went home.

Immediately there was slight trouble. I opened the box and there were no instructions in it. Not a problem. A resourceful chap like me can soon put it together -- and so I did. It went together with no problems and I put it in my wardrobe and placed my underwear and t-shirts in it and went to sit down. At this point I found the instructions.

Now, you sceptics might be thinking that I'd put it together wrong. You are wrong. Without instructions I had 100% put it together right. My slight mistake (and I hesitate even to call it that) was to put it in the wardrobe upside down. It wasn't a big deal. It clearly worked the other way up. I could ignore it. It was upside down. It didn't matter, it wasn't a big deal. It was clearly absolutely fine upside down and it would make no difference to its functionality. It remained upside down. I sighed and went to the bedroom to fix it. I took all the t-shirts and underwear out of it, turned it right way up and replaced them. With a weary sigh I put the final t-shirt in place, leaned slightly forward and tore off the fabric attachment which kept it hanging and dangling... instead it turned into a drooping flopping thing.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!

Sorry, I did say I thought I was about to scream.