The Zig

They make cueballs with shoulders now?

fletchy — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 09:58:46 PDT

There’s only so long you can be losing the war before its polite to surrender….

That day came two weeks ago. The battlefield was my head, the winner alopecia. I’d been losing the fight slowly for the last 10 years, although far less slowly in the last two. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, many men hide in combover-toupee limbo denial for years. Last time I went to the hairdressers they actually gave me a discount since it was over with so quickly, that was a sign. Watching the video of me giving the talk at Next Conf and barely recognizing myself, that was another.

I asked Annett to tell me when the time had come incase I wasn’t brave enough to make the decision. It seems she had also become comfortable in denial though since she never gave me the ‘the time is right’ nod. I made it easy for her

“In 30mins you’re shaving my head”

The reaction was not what I expected, she burst into tears. I thought that was my job?

Here are some before shots

The atmosphere during was strange, not happy or sad but with an underlying tension, as if we suspected at any moment one of us would be required to kill a puppy.

Here are the during and after shots.

Don’t even start, I know what you’re thinking….

So that’s what a black Moby would look like!

Did he forget to rotate that photo? It’s upside down

Isn’t that one of the bad guys from the Super Mario Bros movie?

Dr Evil has a turkish cousin?

You shouldn’t mock, I’m saving 5 minutes each morning in washing and styling, plus 4 hair cuts and a pot of wax per year. That’s a cool 30hrs and 45eur a year extra in which to spend moping and feeling sorry for myself! Excellent.

Actually I don’t mind it to be honest. That’s good news since I don’t have too many options anyway, which makes me wonder if that’s why I think I like it, it’s a self defense thing. Similarly when were were stuck in that bus in China for 47hrs with almost no food or water I wasn’t hungry or thirsty at all, I think since there was no option to get either of those things so my body didn’t bother to bug me about needing them. Yet now I can’t go more than about 7minutes without it strongly requesting chocolate and a Dr Pepper….denial is a special thing, the toupee and combover guys were on to something all along after all.

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That’s regrettable

fletchy — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 06:46:50 PDT

Hello guvner, got a piece of bad news for you old boy.

Oh dear. everything okay with the project though right?

Oh yeah boss, absolutely golden. Nothing but green lights.

Great, good to hear. So what’s the problem then?

The end date….

The end date?

The end date.

The end date?

The end date. Going to need a little flexibility there?

What sort of flexibility?

Two and a half years.

Two and a half years!!! How long was the original project again?

Not sure guv, not to good with dates you see.

Evidently! Originally I think it was only supposed to be a 7 month project. I’ve already prepared the unveiling, I’ve booked the mayor to open it.

The Mayor? Diamond fella. Did a bit of work for him last year back, paved his driveway. Turned into a bumpy project that one though, forget I mentioned it.

The project was ‘bumpy’?

Yeah, the driveway as well by the time we’d finished hahaha. Subsidence most likely, slippery thing subsidence, less said about that the better. Actually, just forget I mentioned it.

Doesn’t subsidence only affect houses?

Could be. You’re the expert on that one, you tell me.

So what about my grand unveiling with the mayor and a brass band and…

A brass band you say? Paid the deposit on that on already?

Just yesterday.

That’s regrettable.

No I’m sorry, a delay is completely out of the question. A deadly of 2.5yrs is unfathomable.

Fair play, I hear what you’re saying. I’ll tell you what I’ll do like, since you’re being so agreeable.

I’m not agreeable.

Hang on, let me finish. Since you’re going to be so agreeable about the whole ‘delay’ thing. The boys and I will pull an all nighter, save a day.

Great, so it’ll be finished on the Sunday instead of the Saturday then? I’m sure the Mayor will be fine with that.

Yeah the Saturday, no problem at all. One day earlier, two and a half years later. Right now that’s all cleared up I best get back to it, walkway’s not going to build itself now is it?

Woooh, wait a second. It’s still going to be 2.5years late?

Yeah, but a day earlier.

What do you mean earlier? That’s one day less late, out of about 850.

True I suppose. That’s a question of perspective though I propose. I see your a glass half empty type of individual. That’s regrettable.

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Pass me the ideology

fletchy — Mon, 24 May 2010 15:18:30 PDT

I’m not a principled man, its a topic that’s come up repeatedly between Annett and I as in contrast she’s a principal for every occasion, usually one that stops us doing what I want to do like buying a McFlurry or shopping in any store that contains the word discount in its name. Generally its one of the things I like most about her, she cares deeply about, well, everything and that encourages me to do the same and focus less on myself. It can also be annoying though and somewhat of a blocker to normal everyday living:

Adam: “we need toothpaste”
Annett: “well don’t buy one from x, they’re a minority shareholder in y who are raping the third world and oppressing women in uganda and such places, I will not have their products in our bathroom”
“can I buy this one then?”
“is it fair trade? From a co-op farm run by of female tibetan refugees?”
“jesus its just toothpaste”
“yeah well its easy for you don’t have any principals, you’re a capitalist pig”
“I do have principals, its just that they can be bought very cheaply, like toothpaste if you’ll just let me.”

On May 1st we attended the anti-capitalism rally here in Berlin. For readers in the UK I might need to stop here to point out that there are (allegedly) some alternatives to capitalism. I know, baffling. No-one ever thought to inform us! Growing up in the UK I don’t remember there ever even being a discussion about it, I don’t even remember using the word capitalism, there was no need for the word since there was nothing to contrast it to, without night, day is not really day anymore its just default right? I guess now the fact that the country is almost completely bankrupt and people don’t want to play with it anymore, some healthy debate would have done us some good but I digress and we had a good run while it lasted and we’ve all those pretty shoes and George Foreman grills and stuff so it was probably worth it in the end right?

Anyway, we attended the rally. Annett would join a rally for anyone, if red squirrels organized a rally to highlight their plight at the hands (do what squirrels have count as hands?) of the more aggressive grey squirrel, she’d be there with her whistle, nuts and Che Guevara t-shirt doing her bit. Okay so I’m exaggerating there, she doesn’t own a Che Guevara t-shirt.

So we joined, I was interested to here their proposals, unfortunately they didn’t end up really having any other than this is bad, that is bad etc etc. Afterwards we got caught in a mini riot between protesters and the police which was very entertaining and exciting and could be a topic of a whole other post.

I mention these anecdotes because while before I thought I was pretty principal-less, not really critical of anything, just a happy citizen of my own bubble world, it turns out I was wrong. I had some Hipstery related speaking gigs this month. It’s always fun to get out on the road and talk about the Hipstery, firstly because I’m really passionate about it and secondly because the reactions to it are so entertaining. It’s a really polarizing services, for some the click is instant and they’ll rush straight off to the corner and try it out, for others you’ll get a response the same as if you walked over to inform them you believe the world is flat or that jesus is a chocolate leprechaun. That’s stupid, just stupid either they, or just their body language will say.

One of the conferences was in London and one here in Berlin at the Next Conference. In the audience was a guy from Spiegel Online whom it did seem to click with (the rest of the audience we’re more of the chocolate leprechaun disposition). We did an interview and it turns out Spiegel is one of the biggest sites here in Germany I was later informed. The informing didn’t stop there, for in the interview they listed me as not only an Internet Provocateur, but also a Consumption Critic! Well I never, who’d have known! Maybe I’m not just a capitalist pig after all…

I think Matthaus summarised it best when he said “You’re not really accepted here in East Germany until you’re a recognized critic of something. Congratulations, you made it.”

Watch out grey squirrels, I’m coming for you next!

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With me its not good cherry eating

fletchy — Mon, 10 May 2010 09:17:09 PDT

I’ve been a Berliner for a mere four weeks and already I’m noticing several slight behavioural kinks not found in my native Leipzigers. If I can borrow just a small moment of your time I’d like to tell you about them, lets begin…..

1. The inner voice need not stay inner
We all have an inner voice, its what keeps us company in the lonely hours. Mine likes to distract me by shouting things like “kill the donkey”, “or with me its not good cherry eating” or the more seductive “hello pretty boy come sit on my knee” when I’m trying to concentrate on important tasks like eating chocolate.

The inner voice is where are thoughts first manifest themselves, from there they run through the feedback loop that is our sanity and if deemed worthy, become the things we speak, or write or do. Think of it like a big production line, down which our earliest ideas travel. At the end is a filtering mechanism I imagine to be a big giant crusher ball, known as ‘sanity’. This swings back and forth crushing to a pulp all of our stupid ideas and thoughts before they can go anywhere dangerous. The best ideas dodge the crusher and come flying out through our mouths, or hands in the case of this here blog post. Usually. Usually…… For if you walk the fine graffiti filled streets of Berlin you’ll see that there are a very high population of people with no internal crusher. Anything can come out at any time, no need to hold back. You’ll spot them easily, on most streets at most times, they’ll be someone just wandering around muttering to himself incoherently. Sometimes a whisper can be directly followed by a SHOUT of nonsense, there are no rules when there is no crusher.

In short, Berlin is base hq of the mental.

2. Customer service is the responsibility of the customer

Germans don’t have a reputation for being the cuddliest of soft bunnies. However retrospectively I see that I was spoilt in Leipzig by the mild indifference I received by the service professionals I encountered. Berlin?! Customer service is an abstract concept still resting in a lost suggestion box somewhere in the town hall. It’s not that people are unfriendly as such, to me that implies that they make the effort to be hostile. Here its more a complete disinterest. Like when a bill you’ve been expecting arrives in the post and you hide it under a pizza box in the hope that if you don’t acknowledge it exists it might go away.

3. Everywhere in Berlin is the new hottest place in Berlin.

Berliners seem to have an overly healthy interested in indentifying where is the current “hottest place in Berlin” at any one particular moment in time. So far I’d say they are doing this without much consensus since everyone keeps telling me a different place is the hottest place. If I were to take the large blue suitcase under my bed, put an ikea lamp in it, spray it in graffiti, break the zip so it didn’t close properly, throw it up a tree in the Treptow park and then put it on immobilien scout as provision frei, casually mentioning that its located in “the new hottest place in berlin”, it’d be rented for 600eur by the end of that very day by a skinny green jeans wearing hipstery in big red plastic sunglasses (assuming the tree was in 1km of a good bio cafe).

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Partially Hinged

fletchy — Sat, 17 Apr 2010 15:35:30 PDT

I’ve not written so much here lately as everything got very busy and now I’ve moved and there’s lots going on project wise, but we can get to that stuff later, I’ll write more thezig posts soon, today I’ve been thinking about something else, personalities.

cc Elsie_Esq

Our personalities are way more flexible than most of us imagine like a tide moving in and out. Sometimes we aren’t as nice as other times, because well we’re in a period of life when we just want to get shit done and we don’t have the spare capacity to stay polite, or be patient. We’re always in a state of flux, redefining and reimagining ourselves as a result of how others see us, the situations we find ourselves in, all this external stimuli are ingredients we blend up into the cocktail known as our personalities (this effect is magnifying by moving regularly or living oversees, both throw up loads of friction, stimulus and freedom for recreating yourself). I am acutely aware of this, and I regularly re-evaluate myself to check for signs of too little or too much of one particular personality trait. Did I get too arrogant? Am I talking to much and listening too little? I don’t know if other people do this, but often when I meet people I remember them for one trait in particular, sometimes it might be one specific sentence that they say and a light goes on in my head and I say to myself ‘that’s it for x, that’s my marker’. If I do that, or say that, or feel the same as this person, I’ve gone too far in one direction for that trait.

Thinking about this reminds me of a man I met in Laos although I don’t remember his name. He ran a hostel, he had a Lao wife, he was a strange man. Annett and he didn’t get along. I remember that this was established instantly and equally amongst them both, like two dogs in the park they sniffed each others rears, raised their noses defiantly, and walked away. “Kind of wound tight isn’t she?” “Yes”, “total fucktard isn’t he?”, “Yes”. I liked him, but then I can find something interesting in nearly every sorry specimen that crosses my path. When I meet people I like to try and figure them out, its my favourite game and while I’m often wrong, I play it for fun, not to be right. You get to imagine their whole lives, who their married to, who they wanted to be married to, how they grew up, whether their life turned out better or worse than their expectations, which is an easy one since for nearly all of us it never does.

When I met this man, it took only few minutes or two before I had him in one of my little pigeon hole boxes. In fairness it wasn’t hard, we made fun of some other backpackers together, the simplicity of the Lao sense of humour, then he told me how it took him 12 years to make his wife orgasm. He told me what a shock it was for him, but how it was more for her and that he thought she was having a stroke.

I’m not an old man, I’m still figuring all this stuff out and its not like I’m getting anywhere all that fast, but then I got time, so it’s okay. However, I’m experienced enough in normal social discourse to know that their are certain topics that you don’t cover when you first meet someone. You wait, you build up a certain familiarity, you talk about your dogs, the weather, your football teams, the weather (again), you have a BBQ together, your girlfriends become friends, the weather (again), you hang out when one of you has a bad day, you drink a beer, you talk it through….Then and only then, when that friendship is something warm and special and you can’t imagine, nor remember, not having it, then and only then, one of you can talk about your wife’s former inability to climax.

As this strange guy from Laos who had a hostel told me about his wife who he couldn’t make orgasm for 12 years I was playing my ‘try and work people out’ game and with a statement like that well he might as well have just handed me his biography, having highlighted the key passages to save my reading time. It was pretty obvious he’d been an infrequent visitor to the home of normal society for a long time. I guessed he was probably a hobo. Unsurprisingly it came out later in the conversation, one of several we’d have in the evenings while I stayed there that he was a hobo, that he’d spent his whole life bumming around from country to country.

At the point in the first conversation I put down one of my red flags this one was a giant do not cross marker for being unhinged. As he talked to me all I could think was how in terms of normal life he was broken, what would happen if you transferred him from Laos back to England where he was from. How would he function? He wouldn’t function, he was too far gone. I imagine he’d go crazy, and kill himself in a dramatic way, taking at least a few others with him on the way.

Of course for this to be any normal sort of a scale, if he and that story were going to be one end, I would need an opposing end and this comes from an old ex-friend of mine from England who shall remain nameless. He was so hinged, so functional, so normal that you couldn’t imagine him fantasizing about what it would be like to be king of the world, or him having the impulse to violently stab the person who pushes in front of him and steals the last seat on the subway, or what it might be that makes someone like this Laos guy opt out of normal life and disappear bumming from one country to another with no aim or reason other than that maybe they’re looking for or running from something. This friends hingedness made me as uncomfortable as the Laos mans unhingedness and together they form the scale to which I measure my sanity, how hinged I think I am at a given time. As long as its somewhere between those two markers, but not too close to either, I’m figure I’m doing okay and I’m happy for that level to slide around reacting to whatever else is going on in my life.

Why am I bringing this up now? Well, firstly because that thing with the markers, I always did it without really thinking about it, and only now that I’ve had to, so that I can describe it here for you, I understand it better. Secondly, because lately I’ve been thinking about how I’m slipping further towards the man from Laos end of the behavioural spectrum. Something happens when you don’t work a real job, hang around a lot all day by yourself in doors, live in countries where you don’t speak the language, where you mostly only do whatever you want, whenever you want, when you run weird little businesses like The Hipstery. As my 1st anniversary of self-employment approaches, I can see more clearly the numbing, sobering but very stabilizing effect having a normal 9-5 job has on you. I won’t forget it either, nor will I forget my too normal friend, or my unhinged Laos acquaintance. In between them all I’ll work to stay, but always being washed around by the tide.

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The English and Snow

fletchy — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 06:42:35 PST

I wrote this post a month or so ago but forgot to put it up…

(good example of the topic of this post)

I’ve not been in Leipzig for a few weeks now and I hear the snow has arrived, this morning I was watching a little breakfast TV at Annett’s, the first time, well, since the last time I was at Annett’s I guess since I don’t have a TV and even if I did at the time I normally get up it would be lunchtime TV instead. In Amsterdam they have BBC, so it was English breakfast news TV. I’m aware the English has a reputation for talking about the weather. I don’t want to wander into too many cultural clichés, but spend 15mins with my Dad, or spend 15mins watching English breakfast TV and they’ll be absolutely no doubt about our preoccupation with the sky, and what might or might not fall from it. It’s snowing in England now, they told me on the breakfast news, actually that’s all they told me again and again. England during snow is a hilarious place. We get snow pretty much every year, at least once. Not always lots, but at least once a year at some point. Yet we react as if, completely out of the blue our right leg would just fall off right now, onto the floor as if it were a snap on plastic Mr Potato head leg. It’s not as if one person reacts like this, collectively as a nation we are scramble to understand why our right leg just fell off, what it means, when it will stop, how we reattach it, what will happen to the left leg and most importantly who is to blame?!?!

This is the scene across the nation as people rush to stand by their windows and inform everybody that:

“It’s snowing. Look at that!”
“Oh, did you see, it’s snowing?”
“Did you see, yeah? Come look! Do you see that? Oh, now we’re in for it. Put the radio on, check if your school is closed there’s snow out there. I better go out and de-ice the car and clear the path, it’s snowing. Call all the relatives and warn them it’s snowing.”
“Mum, I think they have windows.”
“Just do it. You can never be too careful with snow.”
“Pop the TV on! Let’s see what they are saying about the snow.”

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sshb/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

“Good morning from us here at Hello Sunshine, Good Morning England Breakfast TV and today our top story is – BRITAIN IN CHAOS. A nation is gripped in terror today after the latest attack of – from frozen weather. It’s too early to tell who is to blame, an early report citing that Al-Qaeda have taken credit for the attack have not yet been confirmed.
Earlier we found this old man wandering the streets looking for his dog and asked him what he thought” -

Roving Reporter: “Old man wandering the streets, what do you think about the snow?”

Old man: “What?”

Roving Reporter: “The snow, what do you think about the snow?”

Old man: “Say what now? Go? I was already going it was you who stopped me, moron.”

Roving Reporter: “T-H-E S-N-O-W!”

Old man: “Oh snow. Never seen anything like it. Worst snow I’ve seen since 1940. Did you see my dog?”

Roving Reporter: “Where did you see it last sir?”

Old man: “Well if I remembered that, it would probably not be lost would it?”

Roving Reporter: “Fair point. Back to the studio.”

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jollyboy/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

Studio news reporter 1: “Welcome back, an update now on our main story reports are coming from a reliable sources stating this is the worst snow outbreak since 1940. People are warned to stay in their homes at all times. Do not let your pets outside as we are hearing reports of pet loss caused by, yes you guessed it – the snow outbreak.”

Studio news reporter 2: “Next up here on Hello sunshine, good morning England Breakfast TV a special report – SNOW – the silent killer! Since the snow epidemic began its reign of terror over England estimates predict approximately 60 elderly people have died.

We are joined by the BBC’s health correspondent Moira Blankard, Moira 60 direct deaths from the snow? Can you tell us more?”

Moira Blankard: “Yes you are correct, Mike. We have now heard suggestions that up to 60 elderly people have now died as a direct result of contracting what we are now calling Snow Flu. Snow Flu which is of course the latest deadly flu to trouble middle-class people with too much time on their hands, who watch too much TV, coming directly after the Avian Flu and Swine Flu epidemics.”

Studio news reporter 2: “So can you tell us how soon these 60 people died after contracting Snow Flu?”

Moira Blankard: “At this point Keith we are not exactly sure since the old people were already sadly dead when we found them.”

Studio news reporter 2: “But you can confirm they had this deadly new flu strand?“

Moira Blankard: “Not exactly, but if you look out of your window you’ll see that’s snowing, and these old people were found just recently, after the first snow reports across the country, suggesting a strong correlation between snow flu and death.”

Studio news reporter 2: “Do we know how the virus is spread?”

Moira Blankard: “Yes, Stuart, good question, it appears it can be contracted as a direct result of contact with snow, or being cold in general for too long.”

Studio news reporter 2: “How long is too long?”

Moira Blankard: “Difficult to say, for the elderly any amount of time can be too long, since they are elderly and a stiff breeze can be enough to knock them into the next life in some cases, they do make a habit of dying.”

Studio news reporter 2: “What advice are the government giving to people then Moira? What can we be doing to reduce the risk of infection?”

Moira Blankard: “Layers, Mark. Layers. We are hearing some reports that you should take the number of layers you would normally wear and then time that number by the square route of your age to get an indication how many layers you should be wearing during the snow pandemic.”

Studio news reporter 2: “Thanks for joining us today, Moira!”

Moira Blankard: “Pleasure”.

Studio news reporter 2: “Now let’s go to Abbie Walsh with the weather. Got any good news for us Abbie?”

Abbie Walsh: “Haha. Oh I wish Rob, but unfortunately not at the moment, ha ha. Hi everyone and it’s only bad news from me, I’m afraid, let’s take a look at our map of the UK here. You can see as we’ve been reporting earlier in the show – SNOW!! Snow here in the north, east, south and also reports of snow here in the west. We are unsure how long the snow will last, it’s because of this area of low pressure here somewhere, hard to see it because of the snow, but it’s around here somewhere which is pushing down that already low pressure and it just makes things lower and all that pressure results in the snow you can see here and no doubt out of your windows as well, ha ha. Please be extra careful and where possible avoid all unnecessary trips at this time, we do have reports that in an obscure place you’ve never heard of they are reporting up to 100cms of snow fall. So to recap – a chilly few days ahead, stay indoors, layers.
Over to your Richard.”

http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevey/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Studio news reporter 1: “Thanks Abbie, let’s cross now to our reporter out on the street, no doubt a very chilly street. I’m rather glad to be in here, ha ha, Mark Williams joins us and he is in Birmingham. Morning Mark, how is the weather there?”

Roving Reporter: “Snow Sam, snow here. Just take a look around for yourself. Same story here in Birmingham. I’m standing surrounded by cars simply abandoned here probably because of the snow. People simply getting out and leaving their cars, preferring to try their luck walking in these treacherous conditions.”

Studio news reporter 1: “Oh that’s terrible, where specifically in Birmingham are you Mark?”

Roving Reporter: “I’m in a car park, Jimmy.”

Studio news reporter 1: “In a car park, and if you’ve just joined us, by way of a recap – the UK is under siege by a Snow Pandemic, our roving reporter Sam stands surrounded by empty abandoned cars in a car park in Birmingham. Sam have you spoke to some of the local people in Birmingham, how are they coping?”

Roving Reporter: “Yes Phil, I’m actually joined now by a disgruntled man and an anxious woman.

Roving Reporter: “Disgruntled man, the snow, what are your thoughts?”

Disgruntled man: “Well I’m extremely disgruntled Sam, it’s chaos here in Birmingham. People unable to get to work, abandoned cars, dead old people, just a lot of disruption to normal routines. For example today is Tuesday, on Tuesday’s I like to hide in the woods near the High School and flash-sorry-monitor the girls there, you know to make sure they are safe from cyber bullying, anorexia etc. Couldn’t do that. School closed. Chaos. This is not life, is it? Just cut that middle bit out of the wotsit thingy, will ya?.”

Roving Reporter: “There you heard it from the horse’s mouth so to speak, ha ha ha, this disgruntled man reporting high levels of disgruntlement.

Now let’s turn to anxious woman, anxious woman, how are you coping?”

Anxious Woman: “Well, I’d just like to say that I’m extremely concerned and somewhat anxious about how we are going to get out of this situation. I personally blame the government, and foreigners.”

Roving Reporter: “You blame foreigners? What do they have to do with the snow?”

Anxious Woman: “Well, I’m not a racist, some of my best friends are 1/32 Irish after all, but I’m afraid Sam they are the straw that’s broken the proverbial camels back this time. Our transport system, heating, electricity systems, a nationwide network of service all pushed to breaking point at this time and would it be this way without all these foreigners here making demands of these services? Coming over here and taking our heating. I think, it’s the Governments fault for their lax immigration requirements. England for the English, heating for the cold, is that too much to ask Mr Prime Minister? Tell me that…”

Roving Reporter: “There you go, anxious woman and disgruntled man thanks for your thoughts. From a city in chaos, back to you in the studio Jack.”

Studio news reporter 1: “Thanks Sam. So you heard it here first foreigners – are they to blame for Snow Flu? We ask that question to the general public in our daily poll and the results are in:

13% voted: ‘Yes, probably.’

87% voted: ‘Joe McElderry’

Studio news reporter 1: “Well, certainly surprising and controversial votes there. Let’s get word direct from the government now as Will is joined by Health Minister Stuart Smythe-Jones.”

Studio news reporter 2: “Stuart welcome to the show.”

Stuart Smythe-Jones: “Good Morning Shamus. Pleasure to be here, thanks for having me.”

Studio news reporter 2: “So Stuart, the Snow terrorism, did the government see it coming and are they doing enough?”

Stuart Smythe-Jones: “Well, yes we certainly did have credible intelligence of such an attack and took preemptive action to minimize its effect.”

Studio news reporter 2: “Then why are we hearing reports of elderly people dying, pets lost, abandoned cars in car parks, layers?”

Stuart Smythe-Jones: “Well, perhaps we were a little surprised by the size of the attack but I have every confidence in local emergency services who will be diligently working to minimize any disruption. We have also secured emergency supplies of Snow Flu vaccine – Lemsip, which will be distributed to those most affected with immediate effect. We are also considering additional security checks at airports to minimize chances of another attack, we’re not sure exactly what to check yet, at this point it’s looking like maybe, the inner ear, reports suggest many WMD can fit in the average persons inner ear.”

Studio news reporter 2: “Thanks Stuart”

Stuart Smythe-Jones: “Pleasure.”

Studio news reporter 1: “Next up a recap of our main story before we go to Abbie with the weather.”
Snow Flu Pandemic – A nation mourns, elderly man still not found dog, our advice – layers….

Update: Good spot Alex, this video sums it up perfectly so should really be at the top to save you having to have read all that text, but its too late now.

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A Christmas with the English

fletchy — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 12:07:24 PST

One thing you can say about the English, we’re pretty good friends with politeness. Politeness is our first, middle and last name. Just a simple act like buying a pre-packaged sandwich (a daily occurrence) requires at least six of them, a please, four thank-you’s and a cheers will normally suffice to not appear rude and mean spirited. Now bear in mind that is social etiquette when you are buying something, an act in which you actually do the seller a favour not the other way round, they should be the ones thanking you, which of course they will do, repeatedly, assuming they are proper Brits. Nothing is more important to us than

a) being polite
b) not causing offense
c) being seen to be polite and not cause offense

Yes I”m hinting here with c) that it’s not always a case of genuine desire not to offend, this is what makes us so good at subtext and intonation which is what I think gives us our very refined humour. Although I also heard that it’s because we went very quickly from being the worlds colonial super-power, to near irrelevance in record time. You take that badly, or you take it with humility and humour. Easy come, easy go.

Of course when I give this little talk about the traits of the English I’m talking about the English middle class here, the lower class pikey chav clan you’ll know all about, but it’s the middle class of any country that usual give it its positive traits, the lower class provide the negative, the upper class are pretty much the same sorry bunch the world over, at least that’s what I think.

With all that discussed and agreed upon, now think about Christmas. Shouldn’t be too hard we just had it. What happens at Christmas? People give you stuff. Now just imagine how much enthusiasm is required when someone takes the time to personally select, wrap and deliver something to you! Then they’ll probably have the cheek to expect you to open it in front of them! Now you are in a pickle, you better show some serious appreciation, superlatives, love and thanks better rain down all over that gift and its giver. Even if it’s the pervy Uncle you’ve not seen in 5 years and is not even in the room, English social etiquette dictates that you act as if the Mickey Mouse socks he bought have unexpectedly ended your pursuit for life’s deeper meaning.

I’m reminded of this because I had forgotten this, logical huh? I was away last Christmas, Annett and I were in Australia and so it had been two years since I’d experienced a Fletcher family Christmas, which I’m going to assume is not uncommon to other English Christmas of my fellow island monkeys.

Firstly, my family exchange a lot of gifts, easily over one hundred and twenty and that’s not an exaggeration, I’ve done the math. We usual wait until mid morning, after everyone has had time for a few cups of tea, then we get in a circle and round we go. Next year I will count exactly how many times people say “nice” or “thanks” in this one session, my guess would be near one thousand, and yes again, I’ve done the math. You can thank the women of the family for the vast majority of that though, being women they’ve got a little more to offer than men in terms of feelings and emotions. I like to think of emotions like a music. A set of individual instruments, noises, rhythms which when combines correctly produce beautiful sounds. I like to think that women are delivered their own personal emotional orchestra at birth. It’s hard to tell an individual instrument apart from the main, so when something is off it can take a long time to figure out exactly what it is that dragging the whole ensemble down. For many years it was all just noise, an uncontrollable wall of noise, but then they get better at understanding the various parts and what to listen and what to block out to make the best music. In contrast I think men are delivered two spoons and a thigh and told to get on with it. One spoon represents horny, the other hungry and from there we try to make the best of it. Okay let’s get back on point, I gotta learn to avoid these long sidetracking detours. Back on point Adam. Right, so we are in the circle, our presents are in a massive bag each at our feet.

Bear in mind this cycle will repeat until all the presents are opened and then for several hours more as you slowly revisit each one to reiterate again just how much you love them.

Mum: “Right, who is going to go first then?”

silence (another English trait, avoid the spotlight, resist being the center of attention)

Mum: “Dad? Ad? Gem?”

Gem: “Okay I’m excited I can’t wait, I’ll have the first one. Thanks everyone, so many presents, we are so lucky aren’t we?”

Collectively: ‘Yes, definitely, (trailing off) oh yes. Umm….’

Gem: “Which present should I pick? Ohh. Let’s go for this one”
(selects gift)

Mum: “Can you guess what it is?”

Gem: “No clue. But I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Mum: “I’ve still got the receipt so if it’s not right it can go back, no problem. I’m not sure you’re going to like it now, I think it might be a bit of a boo boo present. Can you guess now?”

I should interject here to tell you that despite this little game of ‘can you guess what it is yet’ you are absolutely not allowed to guess correctly even if you know absolutely with the certainty of Jobe what lies under that wrapping. To get it right could upset the gift giver who knows the mystery is over, their gift giving predictability exposed to the group. So you would guess around it instead, if you think its a DVD say a book? Pocket-sized Ethiopian? Hand flannel? What you guess is not really important, just don’t guess right. Back to it…

Gem: “I have no idea”

Mum: “have a guess”

Gem: “seaweed?!”

Mum: “not even close”

She’s got half the wrapping off now. It begins….

Gem: “oh wow….that’s great”

Mum: “If you don’t like it, you can take it back no problem. I’ve got the receipt.”

Gem: “No, it’s very me, I love it. Great. Perfect. What exactly is it?

Nan: “If I’d seen it I’d of bought that for you.”

Mum: “It’s a holder for your bag you take it with you and use this to clip it to a table or desk.”

Gem: “Oooh brilliant. That’s great. Cos otherwise so many germs collect on the bottom of your handbag. That’s brilliant. Great. Look at that everyone? Did you see that yet? Dad? Did you see?”

Dad: “Very nice.”

Gem: “Did you see that yet Kathers?”

Kathers: “Oh great. I love it. What it is?”

Gem: “It’s a clip for your bag.”

Kathers: “Brilliant.”

Nan: “Oh I get it now, a clip for your bag, brilliant. Whatever will they think of next? Great.”

Gem: “Chuffed with that. A real humdinger. Oh that’s a nice colour. Oh yeah. Very nice. Yeah very nice, great, thank you. Wonderful.”

Mum: “I’m wasn’t sure if you’re were going to like it or not, but I thought it was very you with the colour and stuff and with you having a bag and not liking dirt and that, phew that’s a relief.”

Gem: “Who’s opening next? Ad, your go ay.”

Mum: “Hang on, first is someone making a cuppa?”

Collectively: “Oh yeah, I’m gasping.”

The funniest moment from my gift opening was when Kev gave me these:

I didn’t start laughing. I just looked at them and then everyone was looking at me like I wasn’t grasping something. Being a sweet sugar coated ball of innocence I was saying “Big Chicken? Big. Chicken.” in my head was:

back and forth, back and forth. Is it an insult? I was groping in the dark for the deeper meaning when I was shut down by Mum shouting “COCK!” at me. Hang on?!? I’m not the quickest but there’s no need to be mean. “Cock, it means Big Cock”.

Ahhhh…..

Incase you ever have to open a present in the company of the English I’ve produced this handy flowchart which should help you (click it to view full size).

Possibly related, hopefully entertaining other posts:

I regret nothing

fletchy — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 14:19:39 PST

I don’t see much of planning. He’s like a brother I never had anything in common with and we just sort of grew apart over the years, civilly and without sadness.

Sometimes though my gross incompetency in this area does result in well, gross incompetence in this area. Today I wanted to go to Amsterdam to spend some time with Annett. Actually yesterday I wanted to go to Amsterdam to spent some time with Annett. I packed, prepared and was up early for just that reason (7am!). I even announced on Twitter to my tweeple that I was going to be out of town for a week and they shouldn’t inundate with requests for my company, which I’m sure they were going to do after ignoring me for weeks. As I went to leave I picked up the ticket and noticed that it wasn’t for yesterday, but actually for today. Waste of time. False alarm. Back to bed. Waste of excitement (especially for Annett lonely over there in the land of the toastie).

Anyway, I unpacked my ticket and filled the day doing what I do to fill the day everyday. The next day (today, hello there) I got up early again confident this time that I had the right day. I did. As I was packing a blazing row kicked between my two female room-mates. I moved to secure the crockery, then time dictated that I had to leave, the crockery would have to stand on their own porcelain feet, or their version of feet. I made it downstairs and with my big travelling rucksack on my back and my other rucksack wrapped on my front. I unlocked Annett’s bike that I was bringing for her and headed off double quick time for the Train Station. Then my phone rang, it was one of my roommates in hysterics upset after the fight and talking about relocation. Sorry. Bad Time. Can’t support. Barely upright. Many bags. Riding small girls bike. Late for train.

Feeling guilty at my roommate inadequacies I put the pedal to the concrete and made haste. Slow haste because I’d forgotten to clip Annett’s basket grips and they’d dropped down wrapped round the chain, got very tight, snapped in two, yet stayed tightly wrapped. No problem. I can still make it. Hands were inserted, eventually the clips, cord and the majority of chain grease removed and in/on my hands, let’s go. Small problem, bag on front too big, can’t peddle as legs lift up and knock it. No where else to put it, tram? Can’t, no cash, no time for cash. Pedal. Rotate legs outwards? Yes, works. Just. Not energy efficient. Not the time for efficiency. Pedal. Pedal. Tired. PEDAL. Tired.

I made it. With a cool four minutes to spare, with even enough time remaining for the acquisition of cash. Onto the train.

Are you getting on the train with the bicycle?

Yes.

Do you have a bicycle ticket?

No.

(silence)

………………………

(we stare at each other)

………………………………

(we continue to stare at each other, it’s become a sort of contest to see who will crack first. I give in, we only had four minutes.)

Well can I get one then?

Yes.

(silence)

………………………………….

(we stare at each other)

…………………………………

On the train.

Right….thanks.

I make the train, I get the ticket. Exhausted but with my two bags and a small girls bicycle I sit and relax.

I had a 17min connection window for the one change I had to make, in Hannover. The train runs 14mins later. The announcer helpful announces (well what else would an announcer do) that my next train is leaving from platform 12, ‘opposite us’ when we pull in on platform 11. I get stuck in the door as I hastily alight with the bags and the bicycle. A fat man watches me wriggle, stuck. He doesn’t help, he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t laugh. One of the three would have been a minimum. All was expected. Wanker.

I get off and see my train waiting opposite on platform 12 where it should be. I look for the bicycle carriage, I can’t find it. Whatever I’ll get on and deal with that later, its a 5hr journey, I’ll have time to find it. The doors shut eagerly behind me, I relax. Post relaxing I look up, the screen says the train is for Cologne. While not a whizz in Geography, I know that is not in the Netherlands nor on the way to the Netherlands. Wrong train. Shit. Getting on the wrong train is one of those annoying wrong decisions, as you are faced with your mistake out of the window at 150khr until the next station. Unfortunately this was an express, so the next stop was 120k and 50 minutes in the wrong direction. Shit sticks. Long 50mins.

50mins and a few phone calls to base HQ Netherlands later, I’m on the platform at Bielefeld (the next stop) waiting for the next train back to Hannover. That train arrived but it’s late, like every train so far today. With its late departure it should leave me two minutes in Hannover to get the next Amsterdam train at 2:40, costing me just two hours and a little embarrassment. People on the ICE train keep looking at me funny. Possibly because I’m sitting in the gangway with a small girls bicycle, and ICE trains don’t allow bicycles, and I’ve a ticket to go somewhere else, and I’m an idiot, and I have a stupid beard, and I need a haircut.

The train runs late on its journey back to Hannover. 2 minutes later. I get off with zero minutes to make it to the Amsterdam train, I carry the bike forward, down, around, up to another platform and just in time to wave the 2:40pm on its merry way to the city of the illegal made legal from the chilly comfort of the platform.

While I’m not the most perceptive, I was getting an inkling that someone was trying to tell me its just not supposed to be. Go back to your attic hibernating bear.

I waste two hours becoming intimate with Hannover train station, every train station in Germany is a clone of every other train station it seems, so don’t make a special trip there if you’ve been to any other one. It’s only remarkable in its unremarkableness.

I get to the platform 30mins early for the 4:40pm. I’ve learnt my lesson. Later than some perhaps, but learnt none the less. I ask 5 different staff members if this is the platform, and exactly where the bicycle carriage will be. 2 can’t understand me (in either language), 3 agree one particular section of platform upon which I should park myself and my bicycle. At 4:38pm I enter the bicycle carriage of the train to Amsterdam and park my small girls bicycle. Exhausted I sit, I could kiss the seat and the fat man who sits next to me as I write this and I hope can’t read English, if you can fat has become an English slang word for perfect proportioned, please stop hogging the arm rest.

I relax, laugh and regret nothing.

Possibly related, hopefully entertaining other posts:

Beards – carpet for the face, central heating for the mind

fletchy — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 15:57:44 PDT

Hello reader of the Zig. How you been?

Its been a while since I stole 10 minutes of your employers time. So what have I been up to? Well I’ve had a pretty full calendar but my main project has been growing a beard. Is that really a project you might ask? Yes, I might tell you, okay, I will tell you, actually I just did tell you, pay attention please. You’ve been told.

To help put my achievement in context, lets take a moment to reflect on some of the truly great people who also had beards. The vaults of history are stuffed with outstanding people who like me now, have experienced the joy of having a portable face warmer.

You see growing a beard is much like cultivating a plant, in order to reach its full potential it needs love and attention. You should stroke it like one would stroke a dog, sing to it like one would sing to a baby. Many men try, but few men can succeed in growing something so traffic-stoppingly-ridiculous, so instantly-making-small-children-cry-visually-offensive that its worthy of being called a beard. I am just starting out on my long journey.

The interesting thing about beards is that they grow on you. HA!

I expect you think that’s the worst beard joke you’ve ever heard right? Wrong, I’m also going to throw at you – The funny thing about beards is that you become attached to them. HA! No double HA – HAHA!

I could carry on all day, but you know where I live and sometimes I don’t like that look you have in your eye, you know that ‘lets go to the roof and start shooting’ look, so I’ll stop.

I’ve never had a beard before. There are lots of things I’ve never done before so the fact that I hadn’t done this one didn’t automatically make it a looming priority. However the idea was loitering round at the back of my mind. It wasn’t high on my todo list, certainly not as high as say owning a gold toilet, or kicking an old person in the shin, more at the latter end of my Top 100 you might say. However, my little period of f-unemployment provided the perfect opportunity…

You see when you are in the working world its hard to grow a beard like this. Certain people can grow beards. By certain people I mean – fat people . They soften fat people up a treat, there’s a reason why every chubby Uncle has a beard. On him it says friendly dentist. On thin people like me, with likely but as yet unproven Jewish/Arabian roots beards it says public menace. Need proof? I live high on a mountain of it…..

Beardy Thin Person vs Beardy Fat Person

Now ask yourself, who from that gallery would you rather sit next to on the bus?

Everyone knows that wearing glasses makes you look smarter. It’s a fact and the sole reason I wear mine. Ordinarily I see better than an owl, on a mountain top with a telescope. But wearing glasses is an instant +10 on the perceived IQ scale, and so I wear glasses. This effect is not limited to just glasses though, there are several other items an individual can use to elevate their intellect right up there towards three figures. Here are my suggestions

So the big question is, can beards make you look smarter? No. Well, maybe. Ordinarily, no. But there are certain circumstances when, maybe.

For example twiddling your beard between your fingers, or stroking it attentively can give you an appearance of someone possessing a certain careful curiosity, comfortable and wise in pondering life’s big questions. However having a beard has had one possibly surprising discovery…women are attracted to beards.

I’ve never been gifted with women, they’ve usually observed me as one might observe gravity, acknowledged and present but not noteworthy. My previous compliment rate from the opposite sex has been

Years lived: 26

Compliments received from Women: 1 (hello again Mum, thanks again for sending me that Valentines card when I was 7, I still sleep with it under my pillow).

Yet in recent weeks a few more complements have rolled in much to my am/bemusement. It has to be the beard. I’m still as sucky as before, so nothing else has changed other than that I got a bit fatter on account of my only leaving the house on second Tuesdays that feature a number in the date considered lucky in at least two western cultures but excluding the number 7. So it could also be that.

But my moneys on the beard as that’s up top loud and proud like a facial flag of wonderous…?…ness. One look at my facial testosterone blanket and those ladies that don’t recoil in fear or run screaming “English Taliban, protect the children” are rendered powerless to resist. This doesn’t work on Annett of course, who looks at the beard like its something she accidentally trod in. In fact she disliked it so much she had to move 691kms away from it. But its her loss, I got something else to keep me warm on the lonely winter nights now. My lovely beard.

Possibly related, hopefully entertaining other posts:

A whole lot of new ness

fletchy — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 16:13:26 PDT

This might only be news to you if you live in a hole in the garden, but in life everything seems to happen at once. You drift a long quite peacefully, one day, the next day, the next day la la tedium la la, then BAM just as your getting complacent it drops its shoulder and take a swing at you with all its got. You have little time to do more than try and stay up right and roll with its punches.

Then when its had its fickle fun, the dust settles again. You can look around, work out what just happened and if its resulted in you being in a better spot than before, or if it was your turn to be the bug instead of the windscreen.

I just came out of one of those periods, and now that the dust is settling I can get back to normal, normal being a routine, this blog, photos, music, books, learning German and la la tedium la la. So what’s new? New also comes in threes it seems:

Well I have a new apartment and two new room mates. Steffi and Susi. They are great – friendly, fun and really into having a nice communal shared flat from joint laundry to marathon movie session in the living room in front of the beamer, Its a fantastic WG. They are, although they dispute this – obsessional about cleaning, but once I learn to accept that feeling of guilt that comes from me doing little to support this obsession (beside providing plenty of mess to clean), it does result in a flat so clean you could perform surgery on any of the major surfaces.

I have my own attic room, its epic. It’s not quite the strange lair of my dreams yet, so there are no photos. But it’s getting close. It’s so great to have space and comfortable seating, the attic is huge so I have what feels likes its own apartment up here to rattle around in and house my t-shirt collection.

The second change is that I started a new fun project (with Ami and Pete). This one is selling products for the first time. I think I underestimated how much work it is to create a brand from scratch. So its been a busy few months, but I’m very happy with the result and it should be launching in the next few days. We’re not revealing who is behind it so I won’t link to it here, so if you want to see it and I didn’t already tell you about it just mail me and I’ll send you the link.

I’m aware this post is not attempting humour, I’m hungry and when I’m hungry pretty useless at trying to be funny, or friendly, or anything but grouchy and hungry really.

The third and most major change is Annett got a job. That was the plan and as the hardest working job hunter in the planet, it was just a matter of time, and I think she got the reward for her hard work, landing a very nice job as Junior Project Manager. Only the bit that wasn’t part of the plan was that the job is 7.5 train hours away in Amsterdam. While I’ve only been there once, its a really great city, as everyone attests when you say that she’s gone there, it seems to be a universally liked place. She moved there straight away and is now looking for apartments. Its pretty strange after two intense years of living and travelling together and seeing each other 99% of the days of the year, with only 7 days warning we’re now in a long distance relationship. But this time I have no fixed job so I can travel and spend time there, so I’m confident that will still work and that its not a bad thing for us both to spend a little energy outside of the relationship and have less quantity but more quality time together. Still I have noticed the presence of an Annett shaped hole here in my daily life but I’m doing my best to fill it with work, friends, flat sorting, movies, chocolate. I also vividly remember the excitement and challenge of turning up in a country where you know no one and building a life for yourself, coming to Leipzig is hands down the best decision I ever made so I’m supportive and proud that she’s having her own adventure, even if I’m not really part of it.

I am still happily unemployed, I guess now an office job is not an option for me as I want to travel to Amsterdam one week a month of something similar. Still the sites are doing fairly well, I’m not getting rich but I can just about get by and TeeDirectory is rocking and although its early days I really believe in it if I keep plugging away for another six months I think and hope it will pay the bills.

Now that’s all the news over with so when I’m not hungry I can get back to writing those stranger posts I like so much…