One of the reasons for not posting recently has been my incidental attendance at a planning appeal in connection with a property in our village.
Two whole days were spent in buttock numbing exposure to the secretos pequenos de mi pueblo.
So if the Red Tops get hold of it here it is:- Incest, animal husbandry, crime, the history of crime, the Krays, arson(failed) and arsing about, aggregate rendering, tax exiles, companies in the Isle of Man.... I could go on but I lost the will to do so several hours ago.
It's not a joke. The people who have suffered long and hard have done so with dignity.
The shower of neerdobadlys have made their lives a hell. I was spotted as a fresh face to harass.
"Who is that fat bearded bastard. Is he a new councillor?"
How dare they assume I'm a representative of local democracy!
"Is he with them?"
I'm not proud I'll sit with anyone!
And menacingly,
"I never forget a face!"
The councillors and long suffering villagers were solicitous.
Would I like to walk out of the building with them?
Would I like a lift to the car with them?
All really appreciated, but having lived in the East End of London for a while it seems a bit excessive. There was one individual I would not like to meet on a dark night. But being a good boy and not going out on dark nights I don't think I would have to worry too much.
One of the good things about being a dead man walking is that you can offer the open hand!
After that anyone can take their chance.
Why walnut trees?
Just you wait you have treat in-store!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Glossary of Financial Terms.
I was writing about Community Land Trusts
in an email to a colleague recently and the ravages of age, alcohol, and stubby arthritic fingers produced the word LOANDOWNERS instead of LANDOWNERS.
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings.
I knew immediately that whatever terms were used in the official terminology of our portfolio of loans, PAR would always be LOANDOWNERS; amen!
in an email to a colleague recently and the ravages of age, alcohol, and stubby arthritic fingers produced the word LOANDOWNERS instead of LANDOWNERS.
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings.
I knew immediately that whatever terms were used in the official terminology of our portfolio of loans, PAR would always be LOANDOWNERS; amen!
The Game Theory
So our Vic went off on one in the local parish magazine. It might not be obvious from these scratchings but I have no allegiance to any religion or other irrational leanings.
The local parish is a civil construct and it promotes a rag which finds itself delivered into the 300+ homes in the locality. Sadly, or otherwise, the Vic of the established kirk feels the need to deliver his thoughts to the parish (- Parish?) through the rag. The Baptists appear to have abandoned the scene some time ago and the Methodists congregate in the next village.
The Vic, who styles himself as Team Rector, appears
"No too fond of the mongs." as our friends from
That is my opinion of his view of a TV programme about Game Theory and Nash the mathematician.
Nash may have had many problems - these did not, as far as I am aware, affect the quality and value of his work or the fact that however flawed, he shared a common humanity.
If I were paranoid I might think that Rowan has sent out a pastoral letter to suggest that the CoE attack scientists, mathematicians and rationalists to get some purchase against the likes of "Serious Dawkins" and take the heat off the Monty Python flavoured debate about sexuality. That would be absurd, obviously!
I found his article citing "The Game Theory" as much use as mine might be about "The Religion" or "The Christianity".
One approach in "Game Theory" has always struck me as having something for us all to consider in our lives. This is the "Tit For Tat" strategy in the "prisoners' dilemma". As the name suggests, it is a reactive strategy but only after the first move or gesture, which is always the equivalent of the open hand (of peace or co-operation?)
This is not a strategy to win, wipe the board clean, or even take the moral or spiritual high ground and look down, witheringly, on the lesser mortals, infidels or "mongs" below.
It is a way for individuals, groups, and populations to live in equilibrium with each other. I suppose the"Big Yin" would have it as "do as you would be done by" with the rider that if you are done get your retaliation in first!
It avoids the tragedy of the commons in civil society and offers a way to contain and neutralise those that would oppress us. It does not require us to postulate a "relationship with a supreme being" to justify our actions or give value and respect to humanity. It may all seem like enlightened self interest to you Vic. Life, for me anyway, is too short to worry about irrational beliefs.
Monday, July 09, 2007
SubPrime Warriors 2!
Three figures shambled across the flatlands. Their progress produced a ripple in the surface water which spread like a visual cliché from a hundred years ago. A short figure, the centrepiece of the triptych, protected by the mass of a body covered in rags on each side. She was driving the retable forward with language which would curdle larva. They moved toward The Settlement. The left hand side of the three-legged race, head erect, straight back, shambled with whatever dignity he could muster. The right hand creature, The Profit, stretched and strained as if it was possessed by a daemon eating through internal organs. The rolling, hate filled eyes and halo of grey hair lent this figure an Old Testament quality.
It just needed a winged chariot to swoop down and take the wretched trio to the bosom of some compassionate creator. No such luck. The Settlement sent a hydrogen powered flat boat to warn them off.
Dave sat at the front of the flat boat nursing a piece of metal which could reduce human beings, or similar, to a charred mass in less than five seconds. It gave his declamatory speech some weight.
“We don’t want no religion or god botherers in The Settlement.”
“Hain’t got no use forem since we burnt the last lot.”
“Whatever you sellin we hain’t got no use for it, less it smoke, weed or snort.”
The Profit kicked off on one, in a high pitched scream. A string of names and blasphemies issued from his lips. Dave pulled the piece of metal up and pointed it in the direction of the unholy trinity. He was trying to catch the torrent of hate,
“A Dam Smith…..Ric…o, Hume the Baileyvas… matchsticks, badge oflamont…. Shit the Cargo Friedman, God Damn Hungarians…Hyek still and Hyek swell the mighty greenback whale…….”
“Grameen Yunus Brac and Illitch make our tools convivial not rich”
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Life. The Universe and err!
Last year after moving into our new house I wasted valuable time reading about life and the universe. Phwat, I hear you say. Your problem! I look forward to the discovery or not of the Higgs Boson with some interest and understanding!
One book, Quantum Evolution by Johnjoe McFadden, contained something which did shock me to my little cotton socks.
I am a great believer in evolution. Don’t get me wrong, I know there are problems and more to be discovered and developed. Given the choice between a man with a grey beard sat on a cloud sorting it all out by intelligent design and the developmental imperative of natural selection, mutation and the tricky stuff that we know as DNA, I see the guy on the cloud as a time waster. What’s he doing there anyway?
An interesting aside, I recently found myself arguing against intelligent design across a conference dinner table. After the usual pleasantries to extricate us all from what was becoming a drink fuelled grudge match, I moved on and later complained to a colleague about fucking christians and their lack of rationality. I was castigated for my assumption that I had been debating with a christian, oops!
To return to the plot!
I was disturbed, pleasantly, to learn from the book that the emergence of life, as we know it Jim, is not as I had assumed. Roughly this was that if you get the primordial soup, methane etc., etc, and whack a great charge of lightning through it you get the precursor chemicals of life. Oh no. If you do this in the lab you get a tarry mass. No life, no precursor chemicals, no RNA, DNA, amoebas, or other wiggly things. In fact, if you want to go into detail, the chemical pathway from the most advantageous primordial soup (for life that is) to the most basic set of precursor chemicals for the most elementary forms of life (yes, even more primitive than G Bush Esq.) you require a significant number of catalysed reactions, none of which seem to cascade in the way that they need to in order to deliver - de daan! Life! In fact, if you do the old probability business, you have more chance that Hilary Clinton will be found pleasuring Gordon Brown with a feather duster in a broom cupboard in Downing St… …14 billion, billion, billion billion to 1 or more or thereabouts. Hmmm….
Confessing this discovery on a train journey I was disturbed by the enquiry as to whether I believed in little green men. I do not! I may have seen them in the Eagle but I do not believe in them.
So a conundrum!
A recent article in the New Scientist (04 July 2007 NewScientist.com news service Peter Aldhous) has given me a further excuse to stick my nose in books and articles pondering the mysteries of life, the universe and why I will not be able to do any light dusting for some time to come!
One book, Quantum Evolution by Johnjoe McFadden, contained something which did shock me to my little cotton socks.
I am a great believer in evolution. Don’t get me wrong, I know there are problems and more to be discovered and developed. Given the choice between a man with a grey beard sat on a cloud sorting it all out by intelligent design and the developmental imperative of natural selection, mutation and the tricky stuff that we know as DNA, I see the guy on the cloud as a time waster. What’s he doing there anyway?
An interesting aside, I recently found myself arguing against intelligent design across a conference dinner table. After the usual pleasantries to extricate us all from what was becoming a drink fuelled grudge match, I moved on and later complained to a colleague about fucking christians and their lack of rationality. I was castigated for my assumption that I had been debating with a christian, oops!
To return to the plot!
I was disturbed, pleasantly, to learn from the book that the emergence of life, as we know it Jim, is not as I had assumed. Roughly this was that if you get the primordial soup, methane etc., etc, and whack a great charge of lightning through it you get the precursor chemicals of life. Oh no. If you do this in the lab you get a tarry mass. No life, no precursor chemicals, no RNA, DNA, amoebas, or other wiggly things. In fact, if you want to go into detail, the chemical pathway from the most advantageous primordial soup (for life that is) to the most basic set of precursor chemicals for the most elementary forms of life (yes, even more primitive than G Bush Esq.) you require a significant number of catalysed reactions, none of which seem to cascade in the way that they need to in order to deliver - de daan! Life! In fact, if you do the old probability business, you have more chance that Hilary Clinton will be found pleasuring Gordon Brown with a feather duster in a broom cupboard in Downing St… …14 billion, billion, billion billion to 1 or more or thereabouts. Hmmm….
Confessing this discovery on a train journey I was disturbed by the enquiry as to whether I believed in little green men. I do not! I may have seen them in the Eagle but I do not believe in them.
So a conundrum!
A recent article in the New Scientist (04 July 2007 NewScientist.com news service Peter Aldhous) has given me a further excuse to stick my nose in books and articles pondering the mysteries of life, the universe and why I will not be able to do any light dusting for some time to come!
AC/DC Meeting in a Public Convenience on Hampstead Heath
I have for some time been visiting a place on the heath in Hampstead and experiencing a considerable amount of pleasure!
Absolution has been given.
Whenever I am in the Great Wen and I have the time I visit Hampstead Heath and gaze on the face of my beloved! The girl with a guitar.
(By the way the picture behind the girl is a copy of a contemporary landscape!)
Once, on a Thursday, I was locked in contemplation of the sublime composition of feminine beauty, light and the eternal when the drugs kicked in. It is annoying that some of the drugs which, demonstrably, keep me alive also require me to pee more than normal in the morning. The said day was one such.
On inspection it was clear, empty and available. Relieved, partially, I swiftly went about my business. At the point which I am informed is described as mid stream, there was an explosion. The door to the facility flew open and a with a roar and a spraying of uncertain bodily fluids a man in tee shirt and shorts (!) burst into the toilets. This is it, I thought, bummer. Should I enunciate the feeble words…
“Sir.I do not share your sexual preference but I will die for your right to exercise it!”
and prepare to die.
To my relief the figure crashed into the nearest cubicle wrenched a handful of toilet tissue from the wall and wiped a cascade of snot from his nose.
He looked round the facilities saw and discounted my somewhat tense backed figure at the stall and cleared his throat and nose of fluids and went on his merry way. I suspect, though I have no evidence for such, that this was the Thursday morning run intended to keep the former Director of Communications in
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Subprime Warriors
FT ( June 30,2007)
There were several articles identifying a nice little earner, a wheeze, that appears to have started to decompose at the heart of the beast!
You may not be familiar with the term subprime. Think high interest lending, think doorstep lending, no put that baseball bat away, it is all perfectly legal, just a little usurious, allegedly. Subprime in the US includes a lot of iffy mortgages, or ‘overvalued junk debt’ as some commentators would have it.
What do you do if you are a poor struggling banker with voracious and unrelenting shareholders to feed and a high junk habit of dodgy debt to support?
Well the first thing you can do is turn to the Subprime Warriors. These guys will take your debt which is, let’s say, less than colourful, and wave their ‘high tech wands’ over it. Suddenly, something which looks as bankable as a three legged dog at The Stow becomes collateralised debt obligations, CDOs (never mind the quality, feel the width, it sparkles, it gleams) and you can sell it on like hot cakes because it is repackaged with bonds and all manner of beautiful things; sliced diced and presented with a variety of risk attached!
Sell me another, Tory!
It has not been a quiet week in Moneytown.
US regulators issued guidance for the moneymen to
Pangs of conscience for homes lost, lives ruined?
Vulture Capitalists going vegetarian, vegan even?
Not quite Chancellor Copper!
Investor jitters about a credit crunch, the Old Lady herself warning of the vulnerability of the global financial system point to the possibility of more than a slight ‘market correction‘. Eyes have rolled, heads even, hands have been wrung, warning bells have been rung, prodigal chickens have been seen roosting, sacrificial calves have not been fattened, deals have faltered……
Yeah, yeah… split caps; Enron; Blah Blah Blah; BCCI; Blackwheneveritwas; the end of capitalism as we know it, Jim?
Possibly not but consider this.
Our man Lex at the FT points out that while the usual suspects may claim ‘nothing major has gone wrong’ he estimates that losses from CDOs and junk loans for leverage buy-outs could break the $100bn barrier.
Is this good, bad or indifferent and change?
Not good!
US banks, as quoted in Lex’s column, are estimated to have $850bn capital.
(That’s one matchstick for every $100bn and split the last one in half. No, it doesn’t matter if it is the half with the red bit on.)
But the banks won’t take the hit alone. This will be spread across alternative vehicles where liquidity and capacity needs are not currently known or clearly understood. Good for the banks but probably not very good for us then, a rotting pile of paper and a bad smell coming from god knows where. I bet those poor struggling bankers feel a bit more comfortable now though.
Spot the new kids on the block with the big bonuses and the shiny, shiny cars.
Subprime Warriors!
Me, I’m here in the kennels at The Stow; looking after this three legged mutt that has such a sweet face.
There were several articles identifying a nice little earner, a wheeze, that appears to have started to decompose at the heart of the beast!
You may not be familiar with the term subprime. Think high interest lending, think doorstep lending, no put that baseball bat away, it is all perfectly legal, just a little usurious, allegedly. Subprime in the US includes a lot of iffy mortgages, or ‘overvalued junk debt’ as some commentators would have it.
What do you do if you are a poor struggling banker with voracious and unrelenting shareholders to feed and a high junk habit of dodgy debt to support?
Well the first thing you can do is turn to the Subprime Warriors. These guys will take your debt which is, let’s say, less than colourful, and wave their ‘high tech wands’ over it. Suddenly, something which looks as bankable as a three legged dog at The Stow becomes collateralised debt obligations, CDOs (never mind the quality, feel the width, it sparkles, it gleams) and you can sell it on like hot cakes because it is repackaged with bonds and all manner of beautiful things; sliced diced and presented with a variety of risk attached!
Sell me another, Tory!
It has not been a quiet week in Moneytown.
US regulators issued guidance for the moneymen to
“lay off de liddle guys with de bad debts, ok!”or words to that effect.
Pangs of conscience for homes lost, lives ruined?
Vulture Capitalists going vegetarian, vegan even?
Not quite Chancellor Copper!
Investor jitters about a credit crunch, the Old Lady herself warning of the vulnerability of the global financial system point to the possibility of more than a slight ‘market correction‘. Eyes have rolled, heads even, hands have been wrung, warning bells have been rung, prodigal chickens have been seen roosting, sacrificial calves have not been fattened, deals have faltered……
Yeah, yeah… split caps; Enron; Blah Blah Blah; BCCI; Blackwheneveritwas; the end of capitalism as we know it, Jim?
Possibly not but consider this.
Our man Lex at the FT points out that while the usual suspects may claim ‘nothing major has gone wrong’ he estimates that losses from CDOs and junk loans for leverage buy-outs could break the $100bn barrier.
Is this good, bad or indifferent and change?
Not good!
US banks, as quoted in Lex’s column, are estimated to have $850bn capital.
(That’s one matchstick for every $100bn and split the last one in half. No, it doesn’t matter if it is the half with the red bit on.)
But the banks won’t take the hit alone. This will be spread across alternative vehicles where liquidity and capacity needs are not currently known or clearly understood. Good for the banks but probably not very good for us then, a rotting pile of paper and a bad smell coming from god knows where. I bet those poor struggling bankers feel a bit more comfortable now though.
Spot the new kids on the block with the big bonuses and the shiny, shiny cars.
Subprime Warriors!
Me, I’m here in the kennels at The Stow; looking after this three legged mutt that has such a sweet face.
The Long Snout
Had this idea about the long snout and used it in an email to a colleague. That’s cute I thought. Wow is it original?
As Ogden Nash might have said.
It’s always tempting to impute
Unlikely parentage to 'cute'
Along with reference to various animals possessed of enormous hooters there, at pride of place, was the The Long Snout from O’Reilly himself, identifying the proud father:-
Chris Anderson famously named the long tail-- the idea that in the internet era, success belongs to companies that can address the end of the demand curve that is populated by millions of low-volume products, rather than a small number of high-volume products. Last year, noodling on the long tail concept, Rael Dornfest somewhat waggishly pointed out that there's an analogous phenomenon on the front end of product creation, which he called "the long snout."
Interesting word that, noodling!
Alas
In the age of instant communication
he who hesitates
is a man with a great future
behind him!
Not so much bleeding edge, more….. Now where did I put my glasses.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Black Swan
Do you ever get the feeling that you are not wanted. If people use phrases like
not afforded admission to the official British List
an estimate of 43 feral birds in 2003/04 .... undoubtedly an under-estimate given the level of monitoring undertaken.
Stuff it, you know you are beautiful. Every right to be here. Let's hope Betty Saxe-Coburg keeps her hands off and if you see a short streak of whatsit with a wild glint in his eye, a gun in one hand and a kebab skewer in the other run or fly for it!
Hasta Luego!
Saturday, June 09, 2007
George Bush Memorial Library
John Naughton has a nice photo of a possible place for Dubya's $500m memorial library.
The proposed location of this temple to peace and learning has caused some disquiet, strangely!
Now, who do you think made the following comments? -
What do you think they were talking about?
Legacy polishing of course.
How unlike our own dear, shy and retiring leader!
The proposed location of this temple to peace and learning has caused some disquiet, strangely!
Now, who do you think made the following comments? -
"attitudes and actions widely deemed as ethically egregious: degradation of habeas corpus, outright denial of global warming, flagrant disregard for international treaties, alienation of long-term U.S. allies, environmental predation, shameful disrespect for gay persons and their rights, a pre-emptive war based on false and misleading premises, and a host of other erosions of respect for the global human community and for this good Earth on which our flourishing depends."Most likely a bunch of hate filled pinkos.
What do you think they were talking about?
Legacy polishing of course.
How unlike our own dear, shy and retiring leader!
Friday, June 08, 2007
Munro Bragging
OK! No too bad. A bit o’ this a bit o’ that but ok.
So here’s what we did.
We went up Foinaven f*****g brilliant. I saw my Broken Spectre. Back down after a long time coping with the mist and late evening light. We had our supper. Then we had a few wee nips and turned in.
In the light of morning we decided to go up Arkle. Brilliant! What a day, we were zipping along, plodding the route. In the distance we spotted a couple! They were heading towards us with not a stitch on.
Shit!
Thoughtfully, they decided to accoutre themselves with what they had and we passed pleasantly saying hi! Whatever!
Previously, I had stood on the top of Beinn Dearg mounted the cairn put a boot on ma heed and declared maself a Munro.
It’s amazing what you can do after a few wee nips!
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Vulture Capitalism
Last night an exemplification of the term vulture capitalism, which I have used before, was given on Newsnight.
George Monbiot highlights abuses which, foolishly, we thought had long since passed when we gave up sweeties and choco bars in our campaigns. Also one of the best quotes I have seen for a long time
Amen brother George! Read the link.
Vulture funds - as defined by the International Monetary Fund and Gordon Brown amongst others - are companies which buy up the debt of poor nations cheaply when it is about to be written off and then sue for the full value of the debt plus interest - which might be ten times what they paid for it.The money men have a huge responsibility for additions to the suffering of the poor but the providers of food which we all consume do so too.
George Monbiot highlights abuses which, foolishly, we thought had long since passed when we gave up sweeties and choco bars in our campaigns. Also one of the best quotes I have seen for a long time
Panaceas are rare in medicine, but the mammary gland is one.
Amen brother George! Read the link.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
The Merry Month of June
The temperature inside the house is now less that that outside.
Whoopee, the summer has arrived.
Friends for lunch on Saturday, an Amble on Sunday.
A warm and sunny afternoon saw nine Amblers set out from the church car park in Pakenham. The group followed paths from the village, falling into an easy gait and a convivial buzz of conversation. A stretch of the route opened up to give sight of three hares interrupting their lives to observe our progress. A skylark provided musical accompaniment, compelling us to pause and identify it. The smell of camomile on some of the paths was, like the heat of the afternoon, powerful but not oppressive.
A stop for a photo opportunity and a quick dispensation of dried fruit pointed us in the direction of home. Our return, passing a grand property and tree houses, brought us through some of the quietest and greenest country ways in the area.
One of our number is about to walk from Land's End to John O’Groats. I’m sure all the Amblers would wish him well and enjoyment of his travels.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Cooperativo Oso Pardo d’Espanya (COPE)
The Observer Book of Weather (Observer 20/5/07 p.31).
"In December 2006, bears in the mountains of Spain gave up hibernating because the winter was simply too warm."
My first comment was - “All ten of them!"
The Scene.
A smouldering rubbish dump somewhere at the back of Torrelavega in Cantabria, December 2006.
There appears to be a group of large men in fur coats shambling about or sprawled on abandoned furniture. They are seen to be ‘oso pardo’, brown bears. They are all male, ‘machos’.
Raoul speaks in a heavy Gallegan accent, wearing shades and a baseball cap. He is spread-eagled on a collapsed leather chair. Taking an enormous spliff out of his mouth he waves it in the direction of the other bears, vaguely.
"Hey dude, wanna hit?"
He usually insists on greeting each member with a high five, most of the time he is wasted. Privately, members of COPE think Raoul is too close to the 'out of work' boat crews in Cabo who supply the Yerba Buena.
The direction Raoul was waving the spliff includes in its 120 degree arc an old car on 3 wheels and a beer keg. Through the crazed windscreen there appears to be someone or something in the car. It is an impression rather than and image. The impression is of a bear sat behind the wheel turning it from side to side. If you listened hard you might hear a low sound "Brrm Brrm"- or maybe not. Perhaps this is Alfonso, from Cantabria. He is known, unkindly, by the other members of COPE, as Alfonso el Sabio.
A small but very powerful bear has just shambled into the space. He is carrying a huge stone, a box on his back and pulling a dead ox on a rope. The other bears greet him.
"Ola Inyaki! Still in training?"
Inyaki is Basque, but the bears never, ever, refer to him as such. He is always described as the honoured member from Euskadi. A good bear on your side in a fight, he does tend to hang on to the spliffs and the honeycombs when they are being passed round. The other members of COPE suspect that he has separatist tendencies and too great a fondness for Txacoli, drinking it as if it was water, which it nearly is, of course.
Leon from Leon is the current convenor. He sits at the centre of the space twitching his slightly grey, patrician, muzzle. These meetings are just an excuse for him to get out and cut loose. He would prefer more civilised, intelligent companions.
His grandfather once described a meeting of the Guild, as it was then called, in the 40s that was addressed by a magnificent but rather strident black bear called, Herman. There is no one of that stature, strength or moral fibre here today.
Javier, from Asturias is the firebrand, political commissar, and secretary of the Coop. His father was once shot at by the Caudillio and lived to tell the tale. The tale inherited by his son is a patrimony generously and frequently distributed. He is proud to be addressed as 'El Rojo'. He would probably be shocked by his nickname of 'La Rioja', identifying at least two of his preferences (weaknesses?), if he ever heard it.
Makeweight bears from Segovia (Guitarra), Burgos (Sid), Avila (Jose Maria!), Salamanca (El Profesor), Aragon (Bruno) and Navarra (Garbanzo) sit or shuffle through the rubbish.
Leon calls the meeting to order and sets out the agenda.
"Colleagues", he will never be able to use the more accepted address of comrades,
"We need to decide three things today."
"Who will we send to the 'Bear Necessities' networking event for EU subsidies in Poland?"
"How much will we contribute to the 'Lost Cubs of Rumania' Appeal?"
"And, if we are going to hibernate this winter?"
Raoul lets out a growl that would send shivers down the spine of a vampire and shambles, unsteadily, over to the bear from Aragon. He proffers the spliff.
"Jeesu Bruno! This skunk would make an Opus Dei Archbishop take up animal husbandry!"
Inyaki takes his accordion out of its box and starts to play one of those interminable txirmiri folk tunes. Several bears groan. Jose Maria lets out a wild howl and calls for the partying to begin. Garbanzo then takes off in a tuneless song of death, loss, betrayal, and txacoli, but not necessarily in that order. Javier rests his head in his hands. Leon rolls his eyes. It's going to be a long hard winter.
If you looked at the three wheeled car you might have the impression that Alfonso was sitting still; very, very still. If you listened hard you might hear a low rumble, barely a voice. You would think it was saying
"I'm going to stay up all winter."
over and over again.
"In December 2006, bears in the mountains of Spain gave up hibernating because the winter was simply too warm."
My first comment was - “All ten of them!"
The Scene.
A smouldering rubbish dump somewhere at the back of Torrelavega in Cantabria, December 2006.
There appears to be a group of large men in fur coats shambling about or sprawled on abandoned furniture. They are seen to be ‘oso pardo’, brown bears. They are all male, ‘machos’.
Raoul speaks in a heavy Gallegan accent, wearing shades and a baseball cap. He is spread-eagled on a collapsed leather chair. Taking an enormous spliff out of his mouth he waves it in the direction of the other bears, vaguely.
"Hey dude, wanna hit?"
He usually insists on greeting each member with a high five, most of the time he is wasted. Privately, members of COPE think Raoul is too close to the 'out of work' boat crews in Cabo who supply the Yerba Buena.
The direction Raoul was waving the spliff includes in its 120 degree arc an old car on 3 wheels and a beer keg. Through the crazed windscreen there appears to be someone or something in the car. It is an impression rather than and image. The impression is of a bear sat behind the wheel turning it from side to side. If you listened hard you might hear a low sound "Brrm Brrm"- or maybe not. Perhaps this is Alfonso, from Cantabria. He is known, unkindly, by the other members of COPE, as Alfonso el Sabio.
A small but very powerful bear has just shambled into the space. He is carrying a huge stone, a box on his back and pulling a dead ox on a rope. The other bears greet him.
"Ola Inyaki! Still in training?"
Inyaki is Basque, but the bears never, ever, refer to him as such. He is always described as the honoured member from Euskadi. A good bear on your side in a fight, he does tend to hang on to the spliffs and the honeycombs when they are being passed round. The other members of COPE suspect that he has separatist tendencies and too great a fondness for Txacoli, drinking it as if it was water, which it nearly is, of course.
Leon from Leon is the current convenor. He sits at the centre of the space twitching his slightly grey, patrician, muzzle. These meetings are just an excuse for him to get out and cut loose. He would prefer more civilised, intelligent companions.
His grandfather once described a meeting of the Guild, as it was then called, in the 40s that was addressed by a magnificent but rather strident black bear called, Herman. There is no one of that stature, strength or moral fibre here today.
Javier, from Asturias is the firebrand, political commissar, and secretary of the Coop. His father was once shot at by the Caudillio and lived to tell the tale. The tale inherited by his son is a patrimony generously and frequently distributed. He is proud to be addressed as 'El Rojo'. He would probably be shocked by his nickname of 'La Rioja', identifying at least two of his preferences (weaknesses?), if he ever heard it.
Makeweight bears from Segovia (Guitarra), Burgos (Sid), Avila (Jose Maria!), Salamanca (El Profesor), Aragon (Bruno) and Navarra (Garbanzo) sit or shuffle through the rubbish.
Leon calls the meeting to order and sets out the agenda.
"Colleagues", he will never be able to use the more accepted address of comrades,
"We need to decide three things today."
"Who will we send to the 'Bear Necessities' networking event for EU subsidies in Poland?"
"How much will we contribute to the 'Lost Cubs of Rumania' Appeal?"
"And, if we are going to hibernate this winter?"
Raoul lets out a growl that would send shivers down the spine of a vampire and shambles, unsteadily, over to the bear from Aragon. He proffers the spliff.
"Jeesu Bruno! This skunk would make an Opus Dei Archbishop take up animal husbandry!"
Inyaki takes his accordion out of its box and starts to play one of those interminable txirmiri folk tunes. Several bears groan. Jose Maria lets out a wild howl and calls for the partying to begin. Garbanzo then takes off in a tuneless song of death, loss, betrayal, and txacoli, but not necessarily in that order. Javier rests his head in his hands. Leon rolls his eyes. It's going to be a long hard winter.
If you looked at the three wheeled car you might have the impression that Alfonso was sitting still; very, very still. If you listened hard you might hear a low rumble, barely a voice. You would think it was saying
"I'm going to stay up all winter."
over and over again.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Annual Report and Accounts of Buddhist Pizza Investment Enterprises.
I have great pleasure in presenting the annual report and accounts of Buddhist Pizza Investment Enterprises (BPIE).
First can I welcome our visitors from the USA, Tibet and South Wazieristan. It is pleasant to see violent saffron robes mixing once again with the gentle hues of olive green uniforms and the modest garb of our faithful followers.
We have proved ourselves not only popular but profitable! The accompanying consolidated accounts show a remarkable and substantial increase in trading. Despite having to countenance the early retirement of our good friend Mr Wolf for family reasons we have continued with strong growth in all sectors. We carry forward a surplus of over 60 billion dollars, after tax, due in no small part to the hard work of our staff and directors and the ease in selling the idea of Affordable Nuclear Deterrence for Small and Medium Countries.
It took some time to develop this concept with the commander in chief of our private security company but we got there in the end. I will pause for a moment to remember those that fell on the journey, Donald, Karl and the old guy who used to bring the coffee and hubble-bubbles round, or was it the hookers, when we were looking for inspiration.
I have to pay tribute here to someone very special. I could not have done this without the unselfish support of my deputy, Dick, or Deputy Dick as we refer to him. Only someone with a religious conviction so strong, a humane vision of the sanctity of all life and an understanding of the importance of the bottom line could have driven this organisation to the position it is in today! I recommend the modest increase in his remuneration to 10 percent of the audited surplus and a similar contribution to his pension fund. As you know I draw no remuneration from our company but make a modest charge of 4,000 dollars a mile for my travel and subsistence.
The diagram above shows the breadth of interest in our product across the globe. We are glad to see activity in the USA on the Eastern Seaboard. This includes contact with Langley Va. and a substantial property in DC. I personally look forward to developing a very close relationship here.
The traditional market for our type of product is well represented by our contacts in Germany, Italy and Sweden. They are very discrete retailers. In addition, the EU is a haven of peace, stability and security and so able to to provide our products and services to those that are not. They have done this in a way which is affordable, not traceable and free from so called 'ethical' restraint for some time.
Interesting and adventurous proposals are at the heart of our business. This is the reason that we have not overdeveloped in the dark, and eventually we hope very profitable, continent. We are making steady progress in East Africa and have avoided some of the pitfalls that minor competitors have experienced.
My regret for the year is that interest in China and Mongolia appears not to have continued from its early, high, level. That is why I am so pleased to have our visitors with us today from Central Asia. We wish to prosper in a region to which we owe so much philosophically.
It is important not to paint too rosy a picture for our investors. There are substantial threats and challenges in the year ahead. I have not used the R word so far but I cannot duck the duties of a responsible helmsperson. My colleagues on the board see Russia as a threat. That may be the case and I'm sure you were willing to submit to the minor inconvenience of a full body radiological examination before being admitted to the meeting. Peace of mind is, after all, priceless. I prefer to see Russia as an opportunity for the future, and hope to have some exciting news when we report on BPIE next year. Until then, I take the approval of the report and accounts as read, invite you to join us in a glass of wine, just the one, and commend to you our company slogan.
Make me one with everything.
First can I welcome our visitors from the USA, Tibet and South Wazieristan. It is pleasant to see violent saffron robes mixing once again with the gentle hues of olive green uniforms and the modest garb of our faithful followers.
We have proved ourselves not only popular but profitable! The accompanying consolidated accounts show a remarkable and substantial increase in trading. Despite having to countenance the early retirement of our good friend Mr Wolf for family reasons we have continued with strong growth in all sectors. We carry forward a surplus of over 60 billion dollars, after tax, due in no small part to the hard work of our staff and directors and the ease in selling the idea of Affordable Nuclear Deterrence for Small and Medium Countries.
It took some time to develop this concept with the commander in chief of our private security company but we got there in the end. I will pause for a moment to remember those that fell on the journey, Donald, Karl and the old guy who used to bring the coffee and hubble-bubbles round, or was it the hookers, when we were looking for inspiration.
I have to pay tribute here to someone very special. I could not have done this without the unselfish support of my deputy, Dick, or Deputy Dick as we refer to him. Only someone with a religious conviction so strong, a humane vision of the sanctity of all life and an understanding of the importance of the bottom line could have driven this organisation to the position it is in today! I recommend the modest increase in his remuneration to 10 percent of the audited surplus and a similar contribution to his pension fund. As you know I draw no remuneration from our company but make a modest charge of 4,000 dollars a mile for my travel and subsistence.
The diagram above shows the breadth of interest in our product across the globe. We are glad to see activity in the USA on the Eastern Seaboard. This includes contact with Langley Va. and a substantial property in DC. I personally look forward to developing a very close relationship here.The traditional market for our type of product is well represented by our contacts in Germany, Italy and Sweden. They are very discrete retailers. In addition, the EU is a haven of peace, stability and security and so able to to provide our products and services to those that are not. They have done this in a way which is affordable, not traceable and free from so called 'ethical' restraint for some time.
Interesting and adventurous proposals are at the heart of our business. This is the reason that we have not overdeveloped in the dark, and eventually we hope very profitable, continent. We are making steady progress in East Africa and have avoided some of the pitfalls that minor competitors have experienced.
My regret for the year is that interest in China and Mongolia appears not to have continued from its early, high, level. That is why I am so pleased to have our visitors with us today from Central Asia. We wish to prosper in a region to which we owe so much philosophically.
It is important not to paint too rosy a picture for our investors. There are substantial threats and challenges in the year ahead. I have not used the R word so far but I cannot duck the duties of a responsible helmsperson. My colleagues on the board see Russia as a threat. That may be the case and I'm sure you were willing to submit to the minor inconvenience of a full body radiological examination before being admitted to the meeting. Peace of mind is, after all, priceless. I prefer to see Russia as an opportunity for the future, and hope to have some exciting news when we report on BPIE next year. Until then, I take the approval of the report and accounts as read, invite you to join us in a glass of wine, just the one, and commend to you our company slogan.
Make me one with everything.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Integers and Flowers
OK
So this is mine
Thanks.
Meanwhile where the cow slips there slip I.
So this is mine
41 2A 9B DD 98 F4 46 AC 2B 04 3A 55 3F 03 28 E0
Keep your hands off.Thanks.
Meanwhile where the cow slips there slip I.
Getting it Wrong
Sometimes it is possible to be wrong and feel a warm glow.
Adieu Woolfi Adieu.
I mentioned my failing to a colleague this pm and she suggested that it was a shame he was ousted for favouring his A rab squeeze.
Ho Hummmm.....
Adieu Woolfi Adieu.
I mentioned my failing to a colleague this pm and she suggested that it was a shame he was ousted for favouring his A rab squeeze.
Ho Hummmm.....
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Last Person to Leave
I'll get this in first. There are bound to be lots of bad jokes about light bulbs when we get there.
I am grateful for the thought to A Brown esq. and The Major, of course.
Two Soldiers squat in a shelter somewhere on an airfield in the south of Iraq. The heat is ferocious and the dust and detritus of war so thick in the air it precludes thought let alone vision. Smartarsed bastard in the squad called it the fall out from munitions of depleted humanity.
"Sarge, can we no leg it tae the ramp and get in the transport?"
"No private McCavity, we are going to wait for the signal that the ramp is clear of shite so that we are not left out in the cold waiting for some godless bastard to blow our arses off."
"Don't worry son, were going home. No one wants to be the last poor fucker to die for a mistake."
"Aye well."
"Did I ever tell you about the Major?"
"You mean Major Wales, Sarge?"
"No you bampot. The Major. The man who ran the flag down in Palestine and was the last one out alive."
"Is that like, Gaza?"
"The Major retired from the British Army and was supplementing his pension running a student union on the banks of the Forth when I met him."
"He told us this and while he could tell a good story, I have no reason to doubt it."
"He was part of the last group out. There he was lowering the old onion jack for the final time in the middle of some god forsaken part of a newly abandoned Palestine."
"Being somewhat preoccupied, the cunning old bastard had not fully appreciated his position. During the descent of the flag he realised that he was the last squaddie on the ground and there was a superior number of the chosen few out there who would nail his sorry ass."
"He described his exit in words involving shite and a shovel. He had us in tears, but I think it was tight enough."
"Is this you trying tae take my mind off it Sarge."
"Aye son, just think of me as your fucking mother."
"Thanks Sarge but I'll give the goodnight kiss a miss, your no ma type!"
"No probs. McCavity."
They receive the signal to go. They start up, heading for the ramp.
Each is thinking of the Major and his jolly jape when an explosion rips the vehicle apart.
It was the tenth time that McCavity had been fired on in Iraq.
I am grateful for the thought to A Brown esq. and The Major, of course.
Two Soldiers squat in a shelter somewhere on an airfield in the south of Iraq. The heat is ferocious and the dust and detritus of war so thick in the air it precludes thought let alone vision. Smartarsed bastard in the squad called it the fall out from munitions of depleted humanity.
"Sarge, can we no leg it tae the ramp and get in the transport?"
"No private McCavity, we are going to wait for the signal that the ramp is clear of shite so that we are not left out in the cold waiting for some godless bastard to blow our arses off."
"Don't worry son, were going home. No one wants to be the last poor fucker to die for a mistake."
"Aye well."
"Did I ever tell you about the Major?"
"You mean Major Wales, Sarge?"
"No you bampot. The Major. The man who ran the flag down in Palestine and was the last one out alive."
"Is that like, Gaza?"
"The Major retired from the British Army and was supplementing his pension running a student union on the banks of the Forth when I met him."
"He told us this and while he could tell a good story, I have no reason to doubt it."
"He was part of the last group out. There he was lowering the old onion jack for the final time in the middle of some god forsaken part of a newly abandoned Palestine."
"Being somewhat preoccupied, the cunning old bastard had not fully appreciated his position. During the descent of the flag he realised that he was the last squaddie on the ground and there was a superior number of the chosen few out there who would nail his sorry ass."
"He described his exit in words involving shite and a shovel. He had us in tears, but I think it was tight enough."
"Is this you trying tae take my mind off it Sarge."
"Aye son, just think of me as your fucking mother."
"Thanks Sarge but I'll give the goodnight kiss a miss, your no ma type!"
"No probs. McCavity."
They receive the signal to go. They start up, heading for the ramp.
Each is thinking of the Major and his jolly jape when an explosion rips the vehicle apart.
It was the tenth time that McCavity had been fired on in Iraq.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Shy and Retiring.
June 2007.
Two men sit in a room, uncomfortable on such a hot day, dressed in jackets and ties. It is gloomy. There are large windows but the drapes filter out most of the light. A bottle of 30 year old malt, the colour of a maiden's blush, sits between them. Each cradles a glass.
"You'll be off tomorrow then, Tony?"
"Yes, I'll just say goodbye to the staff and tootle down to the palace."
"Put the fear of god into the old bat. Tell her that Phil the Greek is going on trial for conspiracy to murder!"
"Shit, Gordon that's not funny!"
"No, but I would love to see the silly old fart stand up sober in court and deny it. Have you heard from Peter?"
"Oh god, Gordon, one long whine after another."
"That is a shame, such talent, such intellect, such legs!"
"Now Gordie, remember the deal."
"OK, Tony. Is there any more of the devil's buttermilk?"
"Why not!"
"I tell you kid; I don't know what you had to do to get Big I to sign up for the deal but I hand it to you. In fact I don't want to know. I'm away off to see The Mater at the weekend and I could not have that on my conscience. Wife and bairns ok about this, Tony?"
"Yes. Ms Manzanilla is going off to a re-birthing experience in the mud flats of Cancun. The wains will all come round in the end. I'm sorry about the other night, Ewan is so highly strung. He takes after his mother!"
"OK Tone, no offence. Any more?"
"Sure. Why not? How's herself, I bet she is looking forward to this?"
"Aye. It's a pity it is not Princess M, though, that would have given me some fun with Betty when we went up to the palace."
"Christ, give me some more of that, I'm having second thoughts about this."
"No worries pal. I'm just pulling the plonker for old times sake."
As the level of the bottle goes down the two men fall silent and look in to the distance.
Visions from the past seep into the foreground; things getting better not worse, friends and comrades lost and dead.
"Look, Gordon, I would exhort you to abjure vanity and self-aggrandisement, recognise that you are the honoured servant of the people and that your only righteous purpose is to promote the welfare of your fellow citizens and the wellbeing of mankind."
"Away tae fuck, Tone! You are a serious piece of business. Oops it's empty. Is there any more?"
"I'll send one of the little people to see."
"Thanks!"
Two men sit in a room, uncomfortable on such a hot day, dressed in jackets and ties. It is gloomy. There are large windows but the drapes filter out most of the light. A bottle of 30 year old malt, the colour of a maiden's blush, sits between them. Each cradles a glass.
"You'll be off tomorrow then, Tony?"
"Yes, I'll just say goodbye to the staff and tootle down to the palace."
"Put the fear of god into the old bat. Tell her that Phil the Greek is going on trial for conspiracy to murder!"
"Shit, Gordon that's not funny!"
"No, but I would love to see the silly old fart stand up sober in court and deny it. Have you heard from Peter?"
"Oh god, Gordon, one long whine after another."
"That is a shame, such talent, such intellect, such legs!"
"Now Gordie, remember the deal."
"OK, Tony. Is there any more of the devil's buttermilk?"
"Why not!"
"I tell you kid; I don't know what you had to do to get Big I to sign up for the deal but I hand it to you. In fact I don't want to know. I'm away off to see The Mater at the weekend and I could not have that on my conscience. Wife and bairns ok about this, Tony?"
"Yes. Ms Manzanilla is going off to a re-birthing experience in the mud flats of Cancun. The wains will all come round in the end. I'm sorry about the other night, Ewan is so highly strung. He takes after his mother!"
"OK Tone, no offence. Any more?"
"Sure. Why not? How's herself, I bet she is looking forward to this?"
"Aye. It's a pity it is not Princess M, though, that would have given me some fun with Betty when we went up to the palace."
"Christ, give me some more of that, I'm having second thoughts about this."
"No worries pal. I'm just pulling the plonker for old times sake."
As the level of the bottle goes down the two men fall silent and look in to the distance.
Visions from the past seep into the foreground; things getting better not worse, friends and comrades lost and dead.
"Look, Gordon, I would exhort you to abjure vanity and self-aggrandisement, recognise that you are the honoured servant of the people and that your only righteous purpose is to promote the welfare of your fellow citizens and the wellbeing of mankind."
"Away tae fuck, Tone! You are a serious piece of business. Oops it's empty. Is there any more?"
"I'll send one of the little people to see."
"Thanks!"
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