The Gripes of Wrath

AAARGH! Christmas...

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 15:51:00 +0000

Doesn't it just creep up on you (like a mugger...)?

Anyhow, apart from the seasonal greet about "where the hell is our funding notification from the Scottish Govt?" and other such fare, I haven't got much to say (or rather I have LOTS to say, but am too angry/depressed/ranty to even begin to discuss how truly awful the current Westminster Govt is, or how they are creating poverty and social inequality so deep it will take generations to repair, or how whenever I watch the news of TV my immediate thought is "what fresh level of hell now..." Ach, you get the gist.)

Instead, here's one of the few tolerable Christmas themed songs I know.

Seasonal whatevers, folks.

40 - Love

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 15:50:00 +0000

So, I am now exactly 40 years and 1 month old. It takes a little getting used to. A sort of "oh, holy shit, I really am that old" kind of getting used to. Not bad, just, "oh" & "holy shit".

Of course, it comes with the requisite, "but what have I done with my life?" moments (answer: more than some, less than others *shrug*) and "what will I do with my life?" moments (see previous answer...) but I would have to confirm that becoming 40 was indeed a blow lessened by being taken to Paris by my most significant - indeed, affianced - other. I think all difficult moments in life could be improved by being taken to Paris (Parisians might want to go somewhere else, perhaps, but probably not...). Positive moments in life could also be made even more shiny and gilded by being taken to Paris. Paris, je t'aime indeed.

The photographic evidence is below, for your delectation.

Spot the Mona Lisa...

Il n'y a pas des bossus

Like Blackpool, but bigger

'But where's the inverted pyramid? Where's the inverted pyramid?'

Otherwise, well, I suppose now that I have finished studying (I am now a fully qualified "manager". Don't ask what it means, I haven't a clue...) I probably should return to this blogging mallarky. I'm sure I have things to say. I mean, I must have, mustn't I? Hmmm...

Crap Dads

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 17:02:00 +0000

Just got off the phone with my dad. (It's his birthday as well as FD). I now feel like a drink (and nothing stronger than Vimto has passed my lips since Hogmanay...)

So, here's to all of us with crap dads.
Where's our day, eh? Eh? *sigh*

posted from Bloggeroid

Not what you usually get from a Poet Laureate

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 11:12:00 +0000

A CUT BACK, by Carol Ann Duffy

It’s no go the LitFest, it’s no go up in Lancaster,
though they’ve built an auditorium (still quite wet, the plaster)

a bar, a bookshop, office space … well, they won’t need wheelchair access.

All we want is a million quid and here’s to the Olympics.

London’s Enitharmon Press was founded in 1967,

but David Gascoyne and Kathleen Raine are writing now in heaven,

with UA Fanthorpe, John Heath-Stubbs; dead good dead poets all.

The only bloody writing now’s the writing on the wall.

It’s no go the national art, it’s no go cake with icing.

All we want are strategic cuts, it’s no go salami slicing.

It’s no go the Poetry Trust, it’s no go in East Suffolk;

Aldeburgh’s east of Stratford East. As Rooney says, oh f-fuck it –

because it’s no go First Collection Prize, it’s no go local writers.

We’ve been asked to pull the plug, the rug, by coalition shysters.

National Association of Writers in Education?

No way, NAWE, children and books, the train’s leaving the station.

It’s no go your poets in schools, it’s no go your cultures.

All we want is squeezed middles and stringent diets for vultures.

It’s no go the pamphlet, the gig in Newcastle no go.

All we want is a context for the National Portfolio.

Three little presses went to market, Flambard, Arc and Salt;

had their throats cut ear to ear and now it’s hard to talk.

They remember Thatcher’s Britain. Clegg-Cameron’s is worse.

Deathbyathousandcuts.co.uk, the least of which is verse.

It’s no go the avant-garde, it’s no go the mainstream.

All we want is a Review Group, chaired, including recommendations.

Stephen Spender thought continually of those who were truly great;

set up the Poetry Book Society with TS Eliot, genius mate.

But it’s no go two thousand strong in the Queen Elizabeth Hall.

Phone a cab for the Nobel laureates as they take their curtain call.

It’s no go, dear PBS. It’s no go, sweet poets.

Sat on your arses for fifty years and never turned a profit.

All we want are bureaucrats, the nods as good as winkers.

And if you’re strapped for cash, go fish, then try the pigging bankers.

(published in The Guardian, 9 April 2011)

*For them that's wondering the what and why of the form, seeing as it's not what might be considered CAD's usual style, see below - and of course, it probably has a big knowing wink to Scots Makar, Liz Lochhead's "Bagpipe Muzak" too...)

Bagpipe music

It's no go the merrygoround, it's no go the rickshaw,
All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.
Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python,
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with head of bison.

John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa,
Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker,
Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for whiskey,
Kept its bones for dumbbells to use when he was fifty.

It's no go the Yogi-man, it's no go Blavatsky,
All we want is a bank balance and a bit of skirt in a taxi.

Annie MacDougall went to milk, caught her foot in the heather,
Woke to hear a dance record playing of Old Vienna.
It's no go your maidenheads, it's no go your culture,
All we want is a Dunlop tire and the devil mend the puncture.

The Laird o' Phelps spent Hogmanay declaring he was sober,
Counted his feet to prove the fact and found he had one foot over.
Mrs. Carmichael had her fifth, looked at the job with repulsion,
Said to the midwife "Take it away; I'm through with overproduction."

It's no go the gossip column, it's no go the Ceilidh,
All we want is a mother's help and a sugar-stick for the baby.

Willie Murray cut his thumb, couldn't count the damage,
Took the hide of an Ayrshire cow and used it for a bandage.
His brother caught three hundred cran when the seas were lavish,
Threw the bleeders back in the sea and went upon the parish.

It's no go the Herring Board, it's no go the Bible,
All we want is a packet of fags when our hands are idle.

It's no go the picture palace, it's no go the stadium,
It's no go the country cot with a pot of pink geraniums,
It's no go the Government grants, it's no go the elections,
Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.

It's no go my honey love, it's no go my poppet;
Work your hands from day to day, the winds will blow the profit.
The glass is falling hour by hour, the glass will fall forever,
But if you break the bloody glass you won't hold up the weather.

(Louis MacNeice)

tap tap tap

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 07:49:00 +0000

Is this thing working?
One two. One two.

Ok

I'll be back in a bit...

posted from Bloggeroid

All Shakespeare needed was one word more.

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 13:55:00 +0000

...I have of late—but wherefore
I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of
exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my
disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to
me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy,
the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament,
this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why,
it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent
congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man!
How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties,
in form and moving how express and admirable,
in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man
delights not me—no, nor woman neither, though by
your smiling you seem to say so. Bastards.

(Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2 + one word)

Yep. That's how I feel right now.
People are just a pain in the arras...

My thoughts after watching the England v Germany match as expressed by someecards

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 14:02:00 +0000

Sounds like a plan. *weeps stoic English tears of stifled disappointment*

The Rhodes Not Taken (with Ian McEwen)

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 10:19:00 +0000

Wandering through "Teh interWebs" I encountered this piece of brutally honest reflective writing/lit crit:

On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan.

Sometimes it helps to read a book that is relentlessly terrible. It’s energising to have something to fight against, and knowing you aren’t the worst writer in the world can lift the spirits. This book is a pile of dog’s mess. The ‘themes’ aren’t so much spoon-fed to the reader as bellowed at them with a loud hailer, the characters are dull people dismally written, their world is devoid of even the possibility of humour, and don’t get me started on the spunking scene… or the ending, for that matter — the main character’s life turns out so unsatisfactory that he ends up owning only a share of a house in France, unlike McEwan, who owns a whole house in France. Holy smoke this is a bad read. But what really makes me angry isn’t so much the book itself, it’s the way the literary establishment queued up to kiss its dreary arse. “Oh Florence.” “Oh Edward.” This book is the enemy.

I have a strange suspicion I might like Dan Rhodes. I think I might even buy one of his books. (And yes, I also felt thoroughly exasperated by the dreadfulness of On Chesil beach and dismayed at the lit establishment lapping it up... Could you have guessed that?...)

Achilles

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 13:34:00 +0000

Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy writes for injured David Beckham - mirror.co.uk

Let's face it, the Achilles myth is just too tempting to use...

World of Pub - brief update!

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 14:30:00 +0000

1. Carol Ann Duffy has gathered together some of the finest contemporary poets for this in Edinburgh: Poets for Haiti

2. The team behind "The Thick of It" are also the brains behind "In The Loop".
-And they've only gone and got Oscar nominated! (So the lovely Tony Roche who I knew at Uni is now an Oscar nominee... Hurrah for Big Tone! And... "Oh. What have you done with your life?" to me...).

That is all.

World of Pub*

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 15:36:00 +0000

Carol Ann Duffy's lament for the pub, for those (like me) who missed it on the Culture Show. Lovely stuff, as ever...

* World of Pub was a sitcom written by an old uni compadre of mine, Tony Roche. He now writes as part of The Thick of It team. *sigh* The pub seems like a decent place to go right now... and I don't drink. *sigh*

Ah, Britain....

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 15:37:00 +0000

Forced to choose eating or heating, family burns furniture to keep warm |The Guardian

I bloody hate winter, but at least I can more or less afford to heat our home and eat.

Happy new-ish year. So far, so fuck-awful...

PS: And if the utility companies haven't got you over a barrel, well, then probably the banks have, but Billy Bragg has an answer. Wearing badges is not enough in days like these, indeed.

If a 10 year old boy can....

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 08:24:00 +0000

...understand dissent, patriotism, freedom of speech and how peaceful protest works, why can't others? This story in the Arkansas Times (no, not a usual read of mine...) about a boy refusing to stand for the pledge of allegiance until LGBT people have true equal rights in the US, caught my attention.
- A future president or civil rights lawyer in the making? Oh, quite possibly. But even if not, it does make a change to read a positive story about young people...

FactCheck: TV charges at Selly Oak? - Channel 4 News (AKA Proof the BNP lies)

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 14:56:00 +0000

FactCheck: TV charges at Selly Oak? - Channel 4 News

Not that proof is needed, but nice to know, all the same.

Now, what's on telly tonight?....

In Memoriam, Margaret Thatcher - EP

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 15:02:00 +0000

In Memoriam, Margaret Thatcher - EP

I would really like this for Christmas (I have it on order, btw). For Halloween would be good too. As soon as you like, really. Chop chop.

Meta-blogging

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 14:57:00 +0000

Not Always Right | Funny & Stupid Customer Quotes � Circle Of Strife

Meerkats? Meh..

Of course, myself and a fellow Shakespearean scholar came up with our own Eastenders inspired version: "Simon of Affens"( back in the depths of my past when I was ensconced in all things Stratfordian and, in Ophelia-esque fits of madness, even used to chat to Buzz Goodbody's memorial tree in Theatre Gardens behind the Swan Theatre - its a Silver Birch, I think ... ah, the pretentious bilge I used to spout! I say used to...)

I reckon it'd work. BBC4 commission, please.

Ships that pass in the night...

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 14:28:00 +0000

Live Ships Map - AIS - Vessel Traffic and Positions

...or indeed during the day.

I've been amusing myself with this over lunchtime - it is strangely compelling and addictive. Have I any particular need to know where a ship is at any given minute? Not really... but it's interesting... No, really. It is...Wait... Don't go... Oh.

Betrayed by a loved one....

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 08:40:00 +0000

Custard Creams can kill: Official • The Register

Killer biscuits? KILLER biscuits? The world is a terrifying place, I tell you - but biscuits becoming homicidal? I don't like it one little bit...

However, reading further I find that there may be grounds for exonerating the humble biscuit, for indeed it would appear that it isn't the biscuit's fault (what with it being inanimate and totally lacking in volition) No, it is the fault of stupid people....

...seven per cent of Britons have dropped a biscuit tin on their foot, three per cent have fallen off a chair reaching for vital nourishment, and an equal percentage have poked themselves in the eye with a biscuit.
Seven per cent admitted to have been bitten while feeding a tasty biscuit morsel to a pet or “other wild animal”. The most extreme example of biscuit-related mishap, however, was the case of the man who got stuck in wet concrete after wading in to retrieve a stray biccy.

Falling off a chair or poking oneself in the eye? Wading into concrete? These people do not deserve to eat biscuits. They malign the good name of biscuits. They make me fearful of the day when we will see official safety instructions and health warnings printed on the wrappers of biscuits. What other injuries can people sustain eating foodstuffs? Impaled by a baguette? Blinded by a prune? Garotted by a liquorice shoelace? I am fearful for the future of humanity, truly.

(I think I may have to have a cup of tea and ginger nut, I'm so upset. I'll eat it carefully, though, don't worry...)

Strange Meeting

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 11:23:00 +0000

"It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined..."

(My apologies to Wilfred Owen)

Today, my boss and the chair of the board will be meeting with some faceless civil servant in a vain attempt to reverse a decision regarding the ending of funding of my project. I'm not going to be at the meeting, instead I've been looking at statistical evidence to justify the continuing need for my work and will be briefing the high heid yins before they jolly off to Victoria Quay. (The statistical evidence is compelling, incidentally: essentially youth homeless figures in Scotland have remained more or less static for the past 5 years - in spite of an overall drop in the total number of young people, meaning that there is an increase in percentage of young people in Scotland becoming homeless even if the total number has dropped slightly.)

The funny thing is, one of the reasons I took this job was that I had been assured at least 3 years funding (there's not a great deal more longer-term than that in the voluntary sector, so three years is a fair whack...) and where I was working previously couldn't really assure me of more than a year. Within three years, you can make lasting changes and actually put project work into action: within one? You can't even get the paste ready to paper over the cracks.

And so, once again I am entrenched, fighting for funding, having been misguided and misdirected by management, having had meaningless promises made - and not being able to completely focus on the real work that might just make a difference because I am having to beg for pennies.

- Spare any change? Because as far as I can tell change is long overdue.

The Missing Link

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 09:15:00 +0000

Heh.*

If you are one of the (very) few folk who reads my blog via an RSS reader, or other social media link-aggregator thingy, then you will be missing out on some of my fabulous links to other stuff I read.

For example, as part of my ongoing commitment to disabuse people of the idea that the Daily Mail is anything even vaguely resembling a "news" paper, I would heartily recommend checking out Daily Mail Watch and The (new) Daily Mail Oncological Ontology Project - the latter of which takes on the Daily Mail's classification of inanimate objects into two types: those that cause cancer, and those that cure it.

If you are looking for other kinds of sustenance, might I recommend The Food Pornographer (whose postings often make me wish I had a better lunch) and Cake Wrecks - ugly, down right bizarre and often hilarious cakes sold by commercial bakers and mocked beautifully by the Wreck team.

There are others, of course, who write personal blogs about things and stuff - and very well too, I might add - but I'll leave those for your own exploring. In addition, should you be a reader who would like a linky on my blog, then let me know and I'll see what I can do. No promises, mind you. I'm capricious like that.

* and if you can't see the image, well, it is VERY funny. So there.

Oh, indeed.

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 12:45:00 +0000

So, the Tories are trying to convince people of the panic-inspiring, bleak hopelessness of "Broken Britain"™ via analogy to cult, compelling TV programme "The Wire", are they?

To quote from one of the series (corrupt) politicians: Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!

There are several reasons (many of which covered in the many and several areas of the media like, here and here) why this is daft, however very few have touched on what is perhaps the single most important reason: the "William Hague Baseball Cap Test of Coolness".

As you might recall, William Hague, poor deluded William Hague, once attempted to be "down wit' da kidz" by wearing a baseball cap and shorts and sucking on a coconut cocktail at the Notting Hill Carnival. He was widely ridiculed. And rightly so.

Chris Grayling, bless his socks, is also trying to be all cool and "with it" by citing a very cool, gritty drama that has caught the media's attention (but not really that of the viewing public - not because it isn't good - it is, it's brilliant television - but because it's been scheduled, inconsistently at that, at stupid o'clock and been about as well promoted as Norwich City football club have been these past few seasons...). By doing so he is being a total ~~tool~~ try-hard, much as William Hague's ogling at the bogling in 1997.

As much as it has successfully gained headlines, by comparing Britain's crime hotspots with those of The Wire's Baltimore Mr Grayling shows a pretty poor understanding of what the show is about -and a very weak understanding of what sorts of crimes actually are being committed in the UK.

Added to which, one gets the feeling that Mr Grayling hasn't watched as far as series three, which focuses on politics. In particular the ambition and corruption of ruthless men and women who will say anything to get/keep power - and the broken promises, statistical fudging, posturing and political powerplay that follows their political ascents/descents.

As ever the most incisive views some from the streets and might well be applied here: As Omar puts it, "How you expect to run with the wolves come night when you spend all day sparring with the puppies?"

Quit yapping, Grayling. Ya feel me?

Love Film? Who doesn't?

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 10:05:00 +0000

I apologise in advance. I am about to ask a favour - and I am going to be very blunt and upfront about it. So, here goes....

If ( and there really is no compulsion here, no guilt trip or anything) you were thinking idly about joining DVD/Game/Blu-Ray rental service "Love Film" and maybe wanted a free trial, I was wondering if you might do me the favour of using this linky here to sign-up.

The reason? Really simple: if you join up here you will get 30 days free trial (instead of the standard fortnight) And me? I'll get 30 days free too.

I'll also be honest about what I think of the service from Love Film: it seems fine to me.

- Can't say I've explored it fully, but it does what it says it'll do - sends out DVDs etc, no late fees, free postage. It does box sets too (I'm waiting for the release date of "Fringe" seeing as we dumped our Sky subscription over loss of service matched by stupidly expensive pricing policies...) and it is cheaper than a bloated cable subscription. In addition it is very handy for watching those films you sort of wanted to see at the cinema but didn't quite think it was worth it, or just plainly and simply missed.

I'm not a huge promoter of stuff and nonsense, but I thought this was worth a punt.

Thanks (and I won't trouble you with ads for stuff again. Well, not unless I think it is really worth it, anyway).

The Daily Mail: bringing vitriol to the masses since 1896

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 12:30:00 +0000

Ye gods and little fishes. The Daily Mail is mean-spirited, smug little paper, isn't it?

I'll freely admit to perusing its pages from time to time (online only...I'm never parting with a penny for the rag and never even consider clicking through the unnoticed adverts) on the basis of "know your enemy." I can quite confidently sift through the lazy bilge that passes for political analysis with little more than a grunt of disgust, but every now and then an article gets published that leaves a nasty, greasy smudge in my mind.

Now, I've never met David Quantick, much less been married to him, but I've seen him on TV and heard him on radio a few times. Seems like a witty, perceptive and clever, but otherwise unexceptional, bloke-ish sort of bloke (I know, damned with faint praise or what?). I've never met Karen Krizanovich either (although I remember her Agony Aunt column in "Just 17" when I was just, well, 14 actually...) although I know her reputation is one for which the adjective "acerbic" was created.

-But bloody hell - she has surpassed herself here: I know divorce can be a horrible thing, but suggesting (based on no medical evidence, but rather through watching a Hollywood movie) that her ex-husband might very well be suffering from Asperger's Syndrome, seems a sneering smear too far and a serious kick in the newly returned balls for Mr Quantick.

I repeat - there is no medical advice or information on which Ms Krizanovich has based her "diagnosis," rather she has watched a film. A film starring Hugh Dancey nonetheless - not exactly glowing in A-list radiance (although he's not a bad actor, to be fair). And the Daily Mail seems to find it acceptable to publish vitriolic puffery concerning the breakdown of a marriage between a journalist and her writer husband as though it were in some way incisive, insightful and informative.

And that pretty much sums up their approach to journalism all over: bitter, harping and mean spirited, based on scant evidence and lots of opinion.

Dr Teeth & The Electric Mayhem Band

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 08:31:00 +0000

It has been a bit of a funny month.

It started well enough- lovely holiday at my sister's place which happened to coincide with Cowes week (and the yachties were much more subdued than in recent years - which made it far more pleasant!) M'beloved and I particularly enjoyed watching the Extreme 4os (sort of 40ft carbon fibre catamaran-zippy sailing-type boats), although we couldn't exactly follow the racing, what with not really knowing anything about yachts and yachting, or even knowing where the race started and finished, or how long it lasted. Or anything, really. Pretty sails, though. Pretty, pretty sails...

We even saw this bit of nonsense: a completely daft promotional boat shaped like a boat shoe. Madness. Yachty madness.

And we saw lions and tigers and lemurs (Oh.... what? Not bears?) at the Isle of Wight Zoo - made famous on Sky (apparently) through the series Tiger Island.

We also ate lots of icecream, went to one of the Isle of Wight's least curated museums (and there are many) where I also viewed some real Edwardian porn on an ancient "What The Butler Saw" machine. All in all, who could want more?

Then back to work, and as Caron Wheeler so rightly sang with Soul II Soul, back to reality.

And the reality is a shit storm.

In a fit of complete and utter incompetence, the grant bid I toiled over for weeks has been turned down. Or rather the biggest part of it has been turned down - leaving me with a real possibility of redundancy come March (again) unless something happens. Worse still, it needs to happen either at the civil service end, or from my organisation's board figuring something else out and wiggling the figures. Either way, I'm fuming. All the more so because I warned the CEO and the depute (and even raised it with the board) of the possibililty of the grant funding being axed if it wasn't incorporated into the larger organisational bid (I mean - who creates an internal market when there are barely half a dozen people in the damn office?) and was ignored because "this is how things have been done for years and there've been no problems before."

If this model of thinking were to be followed, I would be chiselling this entry in ogham on some bits of stone. Or maybe we would still be living in caves. Or maybe still half in half out of the primordial swamp. Or just existing as a single cell entity, floating about, not even bothering to consider dividing.

I am not happy.

To add insult to injury, I had a filling drop out of one of my teeth and the dentist refilled it WITHOUT GIVING ME ANAESTHETIC! (cue Dr Teeth video and blog entry title...)

Like I said, funny old month.

A Strange "Ahhh" Moment (-not for ophidiophobics)

noreply@blogger.com (The Gripes of Wrath) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 21:30:00 +0000

BBC NEWS | World | Asia-Pacific | Snake 'befriends' snack hamster

Not much to say, except, "bless".

Bless....