gibberish

I’ve done a bit of work with this guy.

He’s leaving Standard Life for Friends Provident who need all the help they can get, but it’s not good news for Standard Life.

He’s good you know.

Regular readers of my blog will be aware of my relationship with Sky (yes, box 14 is still working - before you ask).

So I am low on sympathy for their order to write down £343 million in an enforced sale of its aggressive build up of shareholding in ITV by the Competition Commision.

ITV has its problems but, you know what,  we need them more than we need a Sky monopoly.

Back off dog breath.

No reference to the previous post but I am inclined to do a bit of this.

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I did it tonight.

I ain’t Mr populoso in these parts.

In my defence, I was trying to fix Amy’s computer which has been out of commission one way or another for months.

It had just come back.  It was STILL out of commission.  So’s her desk now.

(But the computer works.)

They are naughty wee chumps at Ryanair aren’t they?

They like to break the advertising rules in fact any rules; and their latest humdinger is a Britney Spearsesque temptation.

They’re wee temptresses.

Cheap fares!

Bring it on! (But only if you want to travel in the clothes on your back.)

I’d like to show you the new Ryanair “teeny temptress” ad but technology prevents me.

But you can get a wee glimpse here.

The premise of their latest advertisement is simple - I hesitate to call it a strategy.

The prices are hot, so let’s show a hot burd in the ad; thought the agency.

Not just that. Let’s make her a Schoolgurl.

Guess what? The ASA banned it.

Fair enough.

It was shit.

Good on ya Jezzer.  We had a laff.  RIP.

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Originally uploaded by Angel Tirado Conde.

This is Flickr genius. Apparantly it means “Today a white horse appeared in my dreams.”

Is it just me or is Supt Lovegrove just being a bit of a scaremongering tosser? “It’s not just a case of “if” but “when” he tells us.

I appreciate that the public needs to be vigilant. But does it have to be terrified, and does he have to put out a message that can only damage the festival.

Superintendent Brett Lovegrove said Scotland’s capital would be an “extremely attractive” objective for terrorists – and said the Edinburgh International Festival, which last year attracted 380,000 visitors, was a prime target.

Speaking at an anti-terrorism seminar in the capital, Mr Lovegrove, the head of counter-terrorism for the City of London Police, said: “Edinburgh is an extremely attractive proposition to terrorists, as it has many international businesses, an airport, sports stadiums and crowded streets.

“In particular, the Festival ticks all the right boxes, so it’s essential the public are made aware of the threat and what action should be taken.

“Like London and New York, it is also an iconic city which is flooded with tourists all year round.

“Last year’s Glasgow airport attack proved Scotland isn’t immune to the threat of terrorism. Unfortunately, it isn’t a case of ‘if’ there will be an attack on Edinburgh but ‘when’.”

Read the whole article here. And the comments - most of which subscribe to my point of view (other than the person who wittily exclaims that a bomb going off at the Edinburgh Festival would be a good thing. Oh really? a few hundred Edinburghers and arty tourists dead and maimed would be a good thing? An interesting take on terrorism).

Should The Scotsman have risen to this sensationalism and printed the story?

You tell me…

“I wouldn’t say I was the best manager in the business. But I was in the top one.”

So said Brian Clough; reflecting on his up and down career.

I have written elsewhere about the Clough phenomenon, in my review of the quite remarkable David Peace novel, Damned Utd but this is something different and just as touching.

The man is truly unique and I bought Provided you don’t kiss me, the 2007 William Hill Book of The Year, on the basis that I thought it would be full of ascerbic and hilarious insights into his career as seen by an insider.

It’s written by the previously unknown (in book terms at least) Duncan Hamilton, but surely we can’t have seen the last of him. Hamilton was a rookie sportswriter/reporter on the Nottingham Evening Post and so got first dibs on Cloughie for over 20 years. The relationship he built with Clough is at the heart of this book.

It is a thing of great beauty.

It’s no kiss and tell, despite the title, rather it is a heart felt, honest, even loving reminiscence of how a provincial reporter built an intimate, trusting relationship with the greatest football manager in history; and let’s not overlook this fact. He was.

Let’s get this in perspective. Nottingham Forest winning a League title and two European cups in the late seventies was the equivelant of someone like Stoke, or Colchester doing it now. Provincial, modest crowds (never above 25,000 even at their peak) and peniless.

And yet. And yet.

And yet Clough (and let’s not forget Taylor - Hamilton sure doesn’t) built Nottingham Forest into the greatest team in Europe.

They pissed on the mighty Liverpool.

But the book is not a football borefest. It ain’t for anoraks, it’s for people who love people. Clough was like a surrogate father to Hamilton. It was a love affair of sorts. A truly symbiotic relationship.

As the book moves through the glory years and into Clough’s decline it is sad beyond belief. At several points I was close to tears as Hamilton recounts Cloughie’s decline into alcoholism, his loss of dignity and confidence and his eventual, rather sad, retirement and most heartfelt of all; his death.

This book is a window into the human soul. A historical insight that no-one else could have written.

It IS funny in parts; because Cloughie was a star comedian (indeed he was a mate of Eric Morecambe’s).

But poignancy is its greates virtue.

Wonderful.

At 2 am, after a day’s imbibing, my Pal Shaun played me this on his ipod. Remarkable. The first astonishing piece of music I’ve heard this year.

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Originally uploaded by Talbot_Ridgway.

It’s a wee game on Flickr.  You get an album (or in this case CD) cover and incorporate them into a portrait.

Some are really funny. This though, is pure class.

Yuk.

Driech Edinburgh

Originally uploaded by Rachie23.

Saw this on Flickr. It’s so “this month in Edinburgh”. Don’t you think? fabulous shot of The Queens Hall in Edinburgh

I was at the Caledonian Hotel on my own (don’t ask) last night and spotted a whisky map of Scotland on the wall.

Now, this is a five star hotel in Edinburgh’s city centre.

The map was indeed of Scotland. But there is no such thing as Malt Whiskey.

There’s Japanese, Bourbon, Canadian, even Welsh Whiskey.

But there’s no e in Scotch whisky.

Doh

I am grateful to Ralf for sending me an email today containing an old (presumably dead) US Marine’s photos.

They were taken on an old Box Brownie and the camera had been secreted away in a foot locker for half a century, only to be discovered recently.

Regardless of the politics of Pearl Harbour they certainly capture the experience vividly.

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50/50.

Originally uploaded by macaz1977.

Cracking photo from a fellow flickr’r.

Eleven people were hanging from a rope, under a helicopter. Ten men and a woman. The rope was not strong enough to bear the weight of them all, so they decided that one had to let go because, otherwise, they would all fall.

They were unable to choose that person, until the woman gave a very touching speech.

She said that, ordinarily, she would voluntarily let go of the rope, because, as a woman, she was used to giving up everything for her husband and kids and indeed for men in general.

She was used to always making sacrifices with little in return. As soon as she finished her speech, all the men started clapping.

Doh!

I took this photo of my friend Terry on a recent day out. He’s wearing a mask which makes it a bit freaky.

The end of a generation.

Vera Duckworth slid away beautifully.

Jack did her proud.

30 odd years on The Street.  Good shift.

It will be a lesser programme without her.

Queen of the king of soaps.  RIP.

I’m intrigued by this.

I’ve been pondering it for ages and haven’t been able to reach a conclusion. Perhaps you, dear reader, can help me.

Either he was spineless and waited until he was out of office before converting to the Catholic faith, or it’s not allowed. Constitutionally.

I don’t think there has ever been a Catholic PM.

Now, I’m a Catholic but I’m not questioning this from a territorial perspective.

I’ve always been strongly opposed to Blair’s condescending governership. But the timing of his decision to go Catholic on us reeks of something.

Either way, this poster still sums him up, for me.

This is a very complex film to decode and review. Because the politics are tough.

Should one shout for the Americans when we know just how bullying and, frankly, evil they are as he world’s only superpower?

Should we castigate the Ruskies for (at the time of the events) being equally obnoxious?

Should we feel sorry for the put upon Afghanis who are now considered an axis of evil (by the axis of evil)?

Dunno.

The story concerns Playboy Senator, Charlie Wilson (played brilliantly by Tom Hanks) lobbying congress to fund a covert war on behalf of the Afghanis who had been invaded by the Ruskies and were taking it up the arse big style.

Arms deals are done in Israel with a Jewish arms dealer played utterly ridiculously (laugh out loud ridiculous in fact) by Ken Stott.  Ken Stott? He’s a Jock! And the Ruskies get a right old doing as a result.

In fact, they were eventually sent homewards, tae think again.

The script is brilliant, having been penned by ex West Wing main writer, Aaron Sorkin (I’ve never watched West Wing so can’t coo as much as The IMDB crowd do about him).  It’s actually very funny despite the subject matter. And then there’s Phillip Seymour Hoffman

(”That’s your pal Mark”, Jeana says every time he’s in a movie. Why? ‘Cos I spotted him as one of America’s best actors in Magnolia and was proved right.)

Is it a good film?

Yes.

Is it right to cheer on Hanks as a hero?

Don’t know.

Should you go and see it?

Undoubtedly.

By the way.

Julia Roberts?

Nah.