It's been a long time coming, but here is the final instalment of my Noughties countdown. This is the top ten most culturally important happenings of the last decade, apparently. I'm not convinced by some, but you can make up your own minds. Enjoy!
10. Barack Obama. The top ten is starting strong, everyone show your love for this man. Not only is he the first black American president, he also happens to be the saviour of the planet. I loved it when he won the election. All of the haters claimed he wasn’t black enough to be the first black president in a vain attempt to take that accolade from him. Like he needs any kind of qualification to take over from the previous muppet anyway. At last, we have the kind of president who’s capable of kicking you arse at Scrabble. Not only is he smart, cool, and stylish. This man is a ninja! Capable of swatting flies mid-flight. Just check out the CNN footage. All hail the new ruler of the free world!
9. Reality TV. The blight of the TV schedule. Whether it’s Big Brother or I’m a Celebrity, you cannot escape the dribbling dirge of reality TV. It’s the chance for TV producers to find hopeful wannabes looking for their five minutes of fame, and manage to stretch that five minutes out into a show that drags on for months. It’s no longer reality to be honest. You cannot get on Big Brother anymore unless you’re clinically insane with the whacky tendency to spout racial slurs when under pressure. Anyone remember the first ever series of Big Brother? The one with normal people living their lives out in front of us with no meddling from executive bigwigs who think they know what people want to watch. That was a genuinely interesting social experiment. Everything since has been mindless drivel. George Orwell is likely turning in his grave knowing how badly misconstrued one of his greatest works has become.
8. Celeb deaths. Unfortunately we’ve lost some big names over the last ten years. Some of the more memorable being Heath Ledger, Michael Jackson and the intellectual fountain that was Jade Goody. Jacko’s death has become the new Kennedy event; everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing when they found out. And no one will ever forget the spectacle of one of the strangest memorial services in history and the conspiracy theories that inevitably followed.
7. Social Networking. First there was Myspace, then along came the more refined Facebook and now we have the micro-blogging site that is Twitter. The first thing you did when you get an account is search for every single person you have ever met in your life and add them as friends despite you not really having the slightest bit of interest in them. We can now find out what some kid in your class back in primary school is doing next week or what your best mate had for dinner. Ultimately, we no longer need real friends.
6. Chavs. The scourge, a blight on society, call them what you want, they’re all the same. Basically sub human scum clad in Burberry who will sit around swilling from cans of lager and shout abuse at normal people. The fact that these so called people made the top ten “happenings” of the Noughties has got me down. I’m pretty sure there is a page dedicated to the rise of the chav in the Doomsday book.
5. Tony Blair. The fresh new face of Labour. He led Great Britain from 1997 for ten “glorious” years that ended with him taking us into an illegal war with Iraq. To be fair to him, for a while he did a pretty good job. The turning point was when he got his nose firmly buried up George “Dubya” Bush’s arse. From then on, he was nothing more than Dubya’s lapdog. When he eventually stepped aside we were left with the charismatic Gordon Brown who was meant to rule with an iron fist. Unfortunately it seems more like he’s ruling with an iron deficiency. Oh well, we always has David “I’m down with the kids” Cameron. British politics is just overflowing with utter burks at present.
4. Gay Marriage. Finally a positive and progressive entry in our countdown. Gay people are different to straight people, so what? I was once told that everyone’s unique. Surely that means everyone is different to each other….. But if everyone is unique, then we all have that in common, so it’s impossible to be unique…. I think I’ve stumbled onto a paradox. Anyway, if we didn’t allow gay marriages, we never would have found out that Elton John’s middle name is Hercules. Surely that’s enough for any doubters out there?
3. Google. Who was that person in that movie? Google it. Can you tell me about the Crimean war? No? Google it. Want to know how much vodka the average person consumes in a lifetime? Google it. Now we are fully dependant on technology and the Internet (all except the Amish), Google has found itself at the centre of our data needs. But heed my warning! Remember the Terminator movies and Skynet? Need I say more?
2. Simon Cowell. Ok. The man has done incredibly well considering that ridiculous haircut he has. What is that anyway? It’s like a centre parted mini-afro fade. The hair is clearly running away from his face. He has earned more money than we can imagine and he plagues our TV screens with the X Factor annually. Now in a ploy to earn even larger sums of cash for his money fortress, he is exporting the X Factor to America. I’m sorry America; maybe we’ll export Foot and Mouth disease while we’re at it. I’m pretty sure he is planning something. You can see it in his eyes. Once his influence grows sufficiently, he will be taking over! I can think of not other reason why he’d make the number two spot in the countdown of the decade.
1. Text Messaging. The bane of our existence. The incessant beeping. Oh God, the beeping! But the text message has revolutionised the way we communicate to the extent that some children no longer feel the need for vocal expression. You know something’s gone wrong when you feel the need text someone in the same room as you. I think we’ve all been there. So there you have it. The most important thing that happened this decade was the text message. We’re in trouble aren’t we? Perhaps we have hit the pinnacle of our evolution and it's all downhill from here. Well I for one hope the next decade's countdown involves flying cars, world peace and the self replenishing chocolate bar.
Monday 25 January 2010
Sunday 17 January 2010
Proud to be British
Just this morning browsing the Internet searching for inspiration, I came across a little story that irked me somewhat. And no, searching for inspiration does not have any unscrupulous subtext. The story dates back to 2002 when the Home Office minister got openly criticised for using a certain phrase by the police. Surely, to be publically criticised in the national press for saying something offensive, it must have been pretty bad... “Nitty gritty”. How can somebody be castigated for using such a phrase? Apparently the phrase dates back to the times of slavery. Was there an indignant outrage from anyone? No, of course not.
Not until now.
Welcome to the Unhinged Kingdom. United just doesn't feel right anymore. I read stories like the one above and I’m pretty sure I can hear my blood boiling. Either that, or my fridge is making that weird gargling noise again. And it only served to remind me of another little story that enraged me.
It probably doesn’t help that I’m easily angered. Like a ferret in a rave on speed.
Recently a friend on Twitter mentioned that her friend received a fine the other day for fly tipping. A pretty severe charge I think you’d agree. Until you understand the context. Let me set the scene. It’s Christmas time and all of that wrapping paper and packaging is clogging up the house like a Big Mac clogging an artery. As any good citizen of this land would do, they would take it to a recycling point. No point in trying to further destroy our planet right? So what are you to do if the paper-recycling bin is full to overflowing? Do you just throw it away with the normal trash and scupper the government’s efforts to hit their recycling targets? No. Instead they chose to place the bag filled with the paper neatly against the appropriate receptacle. This sounds like a pretty sensible solution to me.
A few days later, that conscientious individual trying to do the right thing for our planet received a letter stating that they were being fined for fly tipping to the sum of £75. Quite the incentive to continue recycling! How did they find who did it? They snooped through the bag to find a document with a name and address on to hunt down said innocent individual. I would quite like to find the person who issued that obscenely ridiculous fine and recycle them. Probably in the gardening refuse section because that one smells the worst and is no less than they deserve. I could list possible revenge scenarios all day but may end up scaring people so I’ll move on. The great irony of the situation is this; the fine was probably sent on recycled paper.
It didn’t take too much Internet surfing to find a few other similar examples that makes me proud to be British. And by proud, I mean ashamed to tears whilst trembling in unequivocal anger. Last summer, a mother took her four-year-old daughter on a picnic in the park. Lovely right? The daughter was eating a sausage roll and part of it (not all) fell to the ground to be instantly removed by a passing pigeon. No harm, no foul. Even the pigeon’s happy. Except for an ingrate of a park official who fined them £75 for littering.
Here’s an interesting one. A gentleman in Cumbria was found to have put too much rubbish in his wheelie bin. You fit everything you can in there because bin men won’t remove any extra bags because it goes against their religious beliefs. But this was considered to be a danger to the bin men; so several people confronted the criminal mastermind in question wearing stab proof vests and armed with photographic evidence of the crime. This poor bastard not only received a £210 fine with a £15 victim surcharge, but also now has a criminal record.
One man on holiday in Ireland dropped a crisp packet on proud Irish soil. Now I will state for the record that anybody who actually litters on purpose, no matter how insignificant, should face a fine. But this inconsiderate individual received a fine that may have caught him off guard. One crisp packet dropped equals a £480 fine in Ireland. You have been warned!
And finally one last story that roughly takes me back to where I started. A man accidentally let one small piece of paper slip into his glass-recycling box. Now this wasn’t a substantial collection of paper like a newspaper. It wasn’t even a pamphlet. He made the foolish mistake of misplacing one single solitary piece of paper in the wrong container. For this most heinous offence he was taken to court by his local council and fined £200. This man said in court he will NEVER recycle again in his life. I’m sure that’s the result they intended.
So there you have it. Our government is doing a magnificent job of disillusioning its populace. Too much importance has been put on getting figures up; they are too frequently going for the easy offence. The sort of offence that maybe could be dealt with by a wag of the finger and up to three moderately stern words. But in most cases even that would seem disproportionate. Perhaps if they used their efforts to concentrate on the real problems we have in the world, we may eventually be able to honestly say one thing once again. I am proud to be British.
I can’t see that happening any time soon.
Not until now.
Welcome to the Unhinged Kingdom. United just doesn't feel right anymore. I read stories like the one above and I’m pretty sure I can hear my blood boiling. Either that, or my fridge is making that weird gargling noise again. And it only served to remind me of another little story that enraged me.
It probably doesn’t help that I’m easily angered. Like a ferret in a rave on speed.
Recently a friend on Twitter mentioned that her friend received a fine the other day for fly tipping. A pretty severe charge I think you’d agree. Until you understand the context. Let me set the scene. It’s Christmas time and all of that wrapping paper and packaging is clogging up the house like a Big Mac clogging an artery. As any good citizen of this land would do, they would take it to a recycling point. No point in trying to further destroy our planet right? So what are you to do if the paper-recycling bin is full to overflowing? Do you just throw it away with the normal trash and scupper the government’s efforts to hit their recycling targets? No. Instead they chose to place the bag filled with the paper neatly against the appropriate receptacle. This sounds like a pretty sensible solution to me.
A few days later, that conscientious individual trying to do the right thing for our planet received a letter stating that they were being fined for fly tipping to the sum of £75. Quite the incentive to continue recycling! How did they find who did it? They snooped through the bag to find a document with a name and address on to hunt down said innocent individual. I would quite like to find the person who issued that obscenely ridiculous fine and recycle them. Probably in the gardening refuse section because that one smells the worst and is no less than they deserve. I could list possible revenge scenarios all day but may end up scaring people so I’ll move on. The great irony of the situation is this; the fine was probably sent on recycled paper.
It didn’t take too much Internet surfing to find a few other similar examples that makes me proud to be British. And by proud, I mean ashamed to tears whilst trembling in unequivocal anger. Last summer, a mother took her four-year-old daughter on a picnic in the park. Lovely right? The daughter was eating a sausage roll and part of it (not all) fell to the ground to be instantly removed by a passing pigeon. No harm, no foul. Even the pigeon’s happy. Except for an ingrate of a park official who fined them £75 for littering.
Here’s an interesting one. A gentleman in Cumbria was found to have put too much rubbish in his wheelie bin. You fit everything you can in there because bin men won’t remove any extra bags because it goes against their religious beliefs. But this was considered to be a danger to the bin men; so several people confronted the criminal mastermind in question wearing stab proof vests and armed with photographic evidence of the crime. This poor bastard not only received a £210 fine with a £15 victim surcharge, but also now has a criminal record.
One man on holiday in Ireland dropped a crisp packet on proud Irish soil. Now I will state for the record that anybody who actually litters on purpose, no matter how insignificant, should face a fine. But this inconsiderate individual received a fine that may have caught him off guard. One crisp packet dropped equals a £480 fine in Ireland. You have been warned!
And finally one last story that roughly takes me back to where I started. A man accidentally let one small piece of paper slip into his glass-recycling box. Now this wasn’t a substantial collection of paper like a newspaper. It wasn’t even a pamphlet. He made the foolish mistake of misplacing one single solitary piece of paper in the wrong container. For this most heinous offence he was taken to court by his local council and fined £200. This man said in court he will NEVER recycle again in his life. I’m sure that’s the result they intended.
So there you have it. Our government is doing a magnificent job of disillusioning its populace. Too much importance has been put on getting figures up; they are too frequently going for the easy offence. The sort of offence that maybe could be dealt with by a wag of the finger and up to three moderately stern words. But in most cases even that would seem disproportionate. Perhaps if they used their efforts to concentrate on the real problems we have in the world, we may eventually be able to honestly say one thing once again. I am proud to be British.
I can’t see that happening any time soon.
Tuesday 12 January 2010
A Retro Christmas
Looking out of my window, you would forgive me if I thought it was winter in the Arctic Circle out there, but it’s just another new year in this topsy-turvy world. The Noughties are now behind us and we are swiftly moving into the, as of now, unnamed decade. Another Christmas gone. As I saw in the window of a camping goods shop, “Now is the winter of our discount tents” (a Shakespearean quip for those old school literary types).
It is the only time of the year when it is socially acceptable to get excited about a Chris De Burgh song.
As a child, the Christmas holidays always had a magical feel about it. All the decorations and the music that we only get to see and hear at this time of year. But Christmas music is now officially dead, and we have the X Factor to thank largely for this. For four long years there was never any doubt who would be Christmas number one. But this year Rage Against The Machine stormed to number one in the UK with their festive offering, Killing in the Name. Quite a victory for cynicism at supposedly the happiest time of the year. What a coup! That showed Cowell and his corporate machine a thing or two. Despite the fact that Simon Cowell gained 450,000 sales regardless and also has a stake in Sony BMG, who it just so happened, holds the rights for our new Xmas number one song. Maybe it is time for artists to start actually releasing Christmas songs at Christmas time, but maybe that concept is too wacky for people to accept. With all this talk about the X Factor, it’s got me thinking, being a Christmas blog and all. Jesus must have had the X Factor; otherwise, people wouldn’t spell it Xmas. It’s just a thought.
As hard as Christians may argue Christmas is about the birth of the original X Factor winner, for the rest of us, presents have a BIG part to play. I’m not entirely sure why they have to be put under a tree, but I’m not going to complain. When all of those presents are sitting in front of you, I’m like a child again, just a child already drinking alcohol at 10 in the morning.
The things that can be guaranteed every Christmas are alcohol, arguments and a surplus of chocolate and socks.
The presents have been opened and tidied away (carefully piled upstairs) and the house is covered in decorations and flashing lights. It’s an epileptic nightmare. Spaceman came travelling is powering through your speakers from the mono-browed purveyor of filth, De Burgh. You have the whole family together, your extended family is round, and some of their friends may have tagged along too. The house is packed and what does everyone want to do? Watch TV! We can’t miss Doctor Who or the Eastenders Christmas special. It is the only time of year when everyone gets together under the same roof, yet all across the country, all people want to do is watch the flipping TV! Thankfully my family doesn’t feel the need to waste the day in this manner anymore due to the evolution of technology and personal video recorders.
So what does a family do on Christmas day when not watching the tellybox? They turn their living rooms into the set of the Jeremy Kyle show (or Jerry Springer for any American readers). The festive period always seems to bring out the argumentative side in people. Whether it’s opposing opinions or a family member cheating at whatever game they happen to be playing, I can guarantee there will be fireworks. I suppose we always have alcohol to fall back on, but that could always make matters worse.
It’s around two o’clock and we have finished bickering for now and the alcohol has been steadily flowing for a few hours. There is an air of anticipation because we can all smell the heavenly aromas coming from the kitchen. (Our idea of heaven is obviously the turkey population’s idea of hell.) The promise of food has brought back the festive cheer. We gather around the table with plates piled full of food. But before we can commence our eating, we have to all pull our Christmas crackers. And that’s not a metaphor, because that would be just awkward. Can anyone explain how crackers are related to Christmas? After Jesus was born, did Mary and Joseph argue over this strangely shaped present from the wise men? They both wanted to play with the strange toy and in the tug of war it ripped apart with a pathetic bang and out fell a flimsy paper hat, some plastic measuring spoons and a crap joke. That’s my theory anyway.
The meal has been finished; everyone lies around in a catatonic state of shock at how much they’ve eaten and we still have enough turkey leftovers to feed sub-Saharan Africa. As we are not going to be watching television, the board games and quizzes make their ill-fated appearance. Let the drinking and arguments recommence. Merry bloody Christmas!
I love Christmas and all the baggage that comes with it, but it holds a strange place in our memories. Last Christmas seemed to be just yesterday, but next Christmas seems so far off. Despite this, the next one always comes much quicker than you anticipate. This probably has something to do with the Christmas decorations in town being put up earlier every year. I hear this year; the decorations are going up in June. Christmas seems to have a bizarre stranglehold on the passage of time. Perhaps we should have watched Doctor Who.
But despite my love of Christmas, I must disagree with the song by Wizzard. I am rather happy it’s not Christmas every day. If it was, we’d all be the size of Santa Claus, and the murder rate due to domestic arguments would undoubtedly make a steady rise. Also, we’d be as weird as that mental bloke who actually does celebrate Christmas every day who’s one more mince pie away from a coronary.
One final pet peeve about Christmas is the Political Correctness brigade not letting us call it Christmas. It is Christmas and it will always be called Christmas. I’m sorry if that doesn’t fit into other religious beliefs, but I am more than happy to let other religions have their days, so leave ours alone. Let’s face it; the majority of people who celebrate Christmas are unlikely to be all that religious anyway. Also, I highly doubt people from other religions mind us calling it Christmas either. On the whole, the big thing about religion is tolerance and forgiveness. Besides, Jesus pops up in just about every religion out there (maybe not including the Jedis). It’s just that bloody PC brigade! Political correctness will have to wait until another time, but Christmas is Christmas, ginger is ginger and short people are short, not vertically challenged. If you disagree with that, go find somewhere high to jump off of. Rant over.
On that cheery thought, happy New Year!
It is the only time of the year when it is socially acceptable to get excited about a Chris De Burgh song.
As a child, the Christmas holidays always had a magical feel about it. All the decorations and the music that we only get to see and hear at this time of year. But Christmas music is now officially dead, and we have the X Factor to thank largely for this. For four long years there was never any doubt who would be Christmas number one. But this year Rage Against The Machine stormed to number one in the UK with their festive offering, Killing in the Name. Quite a victory for cynicism at supposedly the happiest time of the year. What a coup! That showed Cowell and his corporate machine a thing or two. Despite the fact that Simon Cowell gained 450,000 sales regardless and also has a stake in Sony BMG, who it just so happened, holds the rights for our new Xmas number one song. Maybe it is time for artists to start actually releasing Christmas songs at Christmas time, but maybe that concept is too wacky for people to accept. With all this talk about the X Factor, it’s got me thinking, being a Christmas blog and all. Jesus must have had the X Factor; otherwise, people wouldn’t spell it Xmas. It’s just a thought.
As hard as Christians may argue Christmas is about the birth of the original X Factor winner, for the rest of us, presents have a BIG part to play. I’m not entirely sure why they have to be put under a tree, but I’m not going to complain. When all of those presents are sitting in front of you, I’m like a child again, just a child already drinking alcohol at 10 in the morning.
The things that can be guaranteed every Christmas are alcohol, arguments and a surplus of chocolate and socks.
The presents have been opened and tidied away (carefully piled upstairs) and the house is covered in decorations and flashing lights. It’s an epileptic nightmare. Spaceman came travelling is powering through your speakers from the mono-browed purveyor of filth, De Burgh. You have the whole family together, your extended family is round, and some of their friends may have tagged along too. The house is packed and what does everyone want to do? Watch TV! We can’t miss Doctor Who or the Eastenders Christmas special. It is the only time of year when everyone gets together under the same roof, yet all across the country, all people want to do is watch the flipping TV! Thankfully my family doesn’t feel the need to waste the day in this manner anymore due to the evolution of technology and personal video recorders.
So what does a family do on Christmas day when not watching the tellybox? They turn their living rooms into the set of the Jeremy Kyle show (or Jerry Springer for any American readers). The festive period always seems to bring out the argumentative side in people. Whether it’s opposing opinions or a family member cheating at whatever game they happen to be playing, I can guarantee there will be fireworks. I suppose we always have alcohol to fall back on, but that could always make matters worse.
It’s around two o’clock and we have finished bickering for now and the alcohol has been steadily flowing for a few hours. There is an air of anticipation because we can all smell the heavenly aromas coming from the kitchen. (Our idea of heaven is obviously the turkey population’s idea of hell.) The promise of food has brought back the festive cheer. We gather around the table with plates piled full of food. But before we can commence our eating, we have to all pull our Christmas crackers. And that’s not a metaphor, because that would be just awkward. Can anyone explain how crackers are related to Christmas? After Jesus was born, did Mary and Joseph argue over this strangely shaped present from the wise men? They both wanted to play with the strange toy and in the tug of war it ripped apart with a pathetic bang and out fell a flimsy paper hat, some plastic measuring spoons and a crap joke. That’s my theory anyway.
The meal has been finished; everyone lies around in a catatonic state of shock at how much they’ve eaten and we still have enough turkey leftovers to feed sub-Saharan Africa. As we are not going to be watching television, the board games and quizzes make their ill-fated appearance. Let the drinking and arguments recommence. Merry bloody Christmas!
I love Christmas and all the baggage that comes with it, but it holds a strange place in our memories. Last Christmas seemed to be just yesterday, but next Christmas seems so far off. Despite this, the next one always comes much quicker than you anticipate. This probably has something to do with the Christmas decorations in town being put up earlier every year. I hear this year; the decorations are going up in June. Christmas seems to have a bizarre stranglehold on the passage of time. Perhaps we should have watched Doctor Who.
But despite my love of Christmas, I must disagree with the song by Wizzard. I am rather happy it’s not Christmas every day. If it was, we’d all be the size of Santa Claus, and the murder rate due to domestic arguments would undoubtedly make a steady rise. Also, we’d be as weird as that mental bloke who actually does celebrate Christmas every day who’s one more mince pie away from a coronary.
One final pet peeve about Christmas is the Political Correctness brigade not letting us call it Christmas. It is Christmas and it will always be called Christmas. I’m sorry if that doesn’t fit into other religious beliefs, but I am more than happy to let other religions have their days, so leave ours alone. Let’s face it; the majority of people who celebrate Christmas are unlikely to be all that religious anyway. Also, I highly doubt people from other religions mind us calling it Christmas either. On the whole, the big thing about religion is tolerance and forgiveness. Besides, Jesus pops up in just about every religion out there (maybe not including the Jedis). It’s just that bloody PC brigade! Political correctness will have to wait until another time, but Christmas is Christmas, ginger is ginger and short people are short, not vertically challenged. If you disagree with that, go find somewhere high to jump off of. Rant over.
On that cheery thought, happy New Year!
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