Aug 18

Pop-up Churchill

If that article title doesn’t get me a few additional clicks from the lonely perverts out there, there’s no justice. ANYWAY – if you happen to be a fan of no-doubt-going-to-be-shortlived, bad, one-note Tumblr blogs with bad photoshop (and who isn’t?) head on over to my new project: Pop-up Churchill.

WHY? I hear no-one ask. Because in the generally poor, steaming heap of what-the-fuck-were-they-thinking that made up the London 2012 Olympics closing ceremony, the image of Timothy Spall as Churchill popping out of the top of Big Ben’s clocktower stands out as an unintentionally amusing high point for me. More so because the fact is that it looks like a really ropey Photoshop job, BUT SO ISN’T.

You can make your own, you know. Just head on over and do better than me (won’t be hard).

 

Apr 15

Me and my wife have certain clearly defined areas of responsibility. As she is a passionate and committed maths-phobe, I handle bills and stuff that involves any number crunching. As I am a fat, lazy, work-shy bastard with about as much creativity as a paperclip, she gets to plan and look after the garden. Right now it’s just grass but she wants to make it something nicer. I’ll do the heavy lifting and dig as required, but as in so many areas of our lives, she’s the brains of the operation.

So with that in mind, when my missus asked to go to a garden centre at the weekend I happily obliged (driving? that’s under my name on the list too) and off we went. Inspiration was sought, ideas were had and we even managed to grab a cream cake too (otherwise I would end up a skinny, lazy, work-shy bastard, which just wouldn’t be right). We were just about to leave when we spotted this beauty for sale:

Perennialis Mortis: commonly known as the zombie flower

And just in case you want to, you can click on the image above to see a larger version. You know, just to really get the whole feel of the thing. So we had a bit of a laugh, wondered who would buy such a thing, took a picture to show friends and post online and prepared to be on our way. It was all going well, right up to the point where a woman from the garden centre staff walked past us, picked it up, looked past us and said “Right sir, I’ll just leave it at the cash desk for you.” to the man who had been standing right behind us the whole time.

OK, so we got our comeuppance for maybe being a bit snobby and had to make a bit of a sharp exit, with appropriately reddened cheeks*. That said, what sort of garden theme does that guy have in mind? “Well Phoebe, I know you just wanted somewhere nice to relax, but I thought it would be nicer to blend pastoral with the terror of the zombie apocalypse.” Or perhaps, “Oh that, Vicar? Quite a piece, isn’t it? Makes you think about that whole rapture thing, what what?”. I think the thought process runs a bit like this:

Zombie venn diagram wants braaaaains

We didn’t get a chance to see if there was a switch that made the eyes light up like the Hood from Thunderbirds, but if something like that hasn’t been included then it’s a missed opportunity. Maybe some speakers to allow the keen gardener / weaver of nightmares for a generation of children on the street to record their own moans of the undead? A hose in the mouth to spray viscous green fluid, Exorcist-style, over any cat or dog trying to piss on the herbaceous border? You know, now I think about it, it has possibilities. I wonder if I can get the missus to swap and develop a new appreciation for numbers…

* Make of that what you will. I do not judge. Well, except if you buy a fucking zombie for your garden, obviously.

Mar 04

Lovely spam, wonderful spam spammity spammity spam

So here’s a funny thing – just at the end of last year, I wrote about how I managed to completely mess up a WordPress installation and lose my blog’s database, posts, comments, the whole shebang. I quickly rebuilt what I could but the damage was done. In that post (you can, if you’re interested, see it here) I whimsically used an image of an angry Malcolm Tucker for two reasons: to illustrate my mood (not good) and because it actually mirrored the expression I had on my face when everything went so terribly, badly wrong.

Since that fateful day all the comments I have received here at the Boiled Egg Of Infinity have all been spam and all but one have been directed at that single post. Now, assuming that spammers haven’t all been charmed en masse by my writing skills, what could explain the attraction? Seriously, all the spam for my blog has been going to that one, single post. I have come to the conclusion that the spammers have all been attracted by the image of Malcolm Tucker who, as we all know but I’m going to say it anyway because it’s my blog and my rules, is played to perfection by Peter Capaldi. Or, to give him his full title, Peter Capaldi, Lord of Spam.

Now, to follow that bombshell in a logical and sensible manner, there are a number of possibilities to explain this link, all of which have worrying implications for us all:

  1. That Peter Capaldi has achieved this level of devotion because he is responsible for sending all of those emails that plague us so much (“Please help, I am the unwanted stepchild of the King of All Oil and Gold and want to smuggle money out of the country using a total stranger’s bank account.”).
  2. That Peter Capaldi’s spammer legions owe him fealty because he spends all of his money from the BBC on phishing scams, thus making him their “go-to” guy on the internet. Did his wages from the excellent 3rd series of “The Thick Of It” get wasted on paying expenses for having won the Internet Lottery?
  3. That Peter Capaldi has in fact managed to upload his consciousness to the internet and has become a transcendent data-based lifeform, existing only as a pattern of energy moving from network to network, and the imprint of his thought patterns on the ever-flowing stream of digital information has inadvertantly brought about this Capaldi-Spammers connection.

Now I’m just one guy, no expert and have never once met Peter Capaldi (who seems like a lovely man / physical-avatar-of-a-next-evolutionary-level-distributed-artificial-intelligence) but accepting the terms of my argument one of those possibilities has to be true. That’s just logic, that is*.

* Please note this is not logic. Terms and conditions apply.

Feb 09

Huw Edwards

Okay, just had a frightening moment watching the 10 ‘o clock news on BBC 1. There’s Huw Edwards, introducing a piece on whether the Conservatives understand the British public* and if they can win the coming General Election**. He says something along the lines of “To win, the Conservatives will need to win in seats that the Labour Party have held since…” *noticeable pause, look at monitor* “…1997.”

Proud moment there, Huw old boy, proud moment. Yes, 1997. Not like you had a chance to rehearse that or anything.

* They don’t.

** Worryingly, they could. Get your fucking finger out, Brown.

Dec 08

When I read this Shortpacked! strip today I couldn’t help but have a look at the site that it mentioned, Stand for Christmas. I thought the cartoonist was just making it up, or if the site existed he was perhaps exaggerating for the sake of the joke. I was wrong, and obviously underestimated the capacity some people have to generate outrage where no outrage has any reason to exist. What I love most of all is the fact that some of the people using the site are so angry that the spirit of Christmas* has not made it into their shopping experience that they get angry and feel the need to ditch any semblance of basic manners or decency in their rush to get on their computer and bitch relentlessly about a shop not playing the proper music or an underpaid checkout person not throwing in a “Hallelujah!” with every receipt.

Some of my favourite comments on the site are: “Too liberal! I’ll order online.” (that one was talking about Borders) and “I visited Babies R Us today. No mention was made of Christmas when checking out.” (that would be Toys R Us, but in all fairness their giraffe overlord might not celebrate Christmas). If you have five minutes and want to see what happens when a group of people who could give Daily Mail readers a run for their money get all stirred up and angry, go have a look. It all goes to prove a point that I would like to make by means of a diagram**:

Venn diagram

* I’m reliably informed this is stuff like love, kindness, compassion, understanding and what could be termed an overall sense of good fellowship. If my wife is reading this, it also involves BUYING YOUR HUSBAND MANY MANY COOL PRESENTS. And making him a sandwich when he’s sitting reading.

** The sad thing is, I am actually quite proud of the diagram even though it was just a matter of five minutes in Fireworks. That’s effort, that is, effort that you don’t often see in this day and age.

Aug 06

After an enjoyable lunchtime sandwich, ten minutes of reading “The Pickwick Papers” and a cool bottle of diet coke (which was doubly welcome as, like a moron, I had worn my jacket only to find it was hot outside) there I was, wandering back to work when I passed a woman talking to a child with her that had (I assume) just asked for something to drink:

“Awright, take a drink then, but if you go aw looneyball on me, ah swear ah’ll batter ye.”

Parenthood, thy name is…well, I’m not sure. Anonymous woman in Glasgow? Chavtastic mother? What was she giving the poor child to drink, anyway? Heroinade?

I want to point out that this scene played out after I saw a man take a big drink from a plastic bottle, vomit and then take another drink. All in all, it’s not so much been a lunchtime as an adventure with a sandwich thrown in.