Nothing's Perfect? What About Us!

        As much as I love my Eye-fone, I think that the idea of buying the latest model as soon as it comes out is as monumentally stupid and short-sighted as describing an up-coming evening with Jim Davidson as "entertainment". As much as I can, oh I don't know, check stock prices and launch a red bird at some green pigs all while on the loo, I'm aware that it isn't perfect. If used often, it has a battery life of roughly 32 seconds, and waits until you're hopelessly lost around Birmingham to tell you "sorry ol' chap, it appears that I need to sleep until I get some more juice", leaving you stranded. It is also mostly made of shiny glass, meaning that it simply won't sit on your leg without one of those horrid green covers that are available, and will inevitably get the tiniest of marks on the screen. Fixing this, however, isn't as easy or cheap as merely a new screen. Nope, apparently, the whole outside needs to be replaced! Now, I don't want to be "that guy" who calls Apple out on trying to profit from this "mistake", but they're blatantly trying to profit from this "mistake". Whinge aside, it's still a fantastic phone and overall, works brilliantly.

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We Don't Beat Nature, We Just Argue Over pointless Stuff Instead.

        Last week, over here in the UK we experienced about seven days of weather that a Canadian would call "whimpy". We experienced a grand total (where I live) of maybe three or four inches of crunchy snow, and this was sufficient to make everyone give up and cower in fear under their duvets. Ever wonder why schools close whenever it snows more than 3.5mm? It's not to do with "safety", it's either because so many people have called a snow-day that they can't open or something mechanical and water-based has had the same idea. Kind of makes me wonder how they get on in places with real snowfalls, like this one. That's two feet of snow, right there! What about this here? Just over two feet of snow in just over a day. This isn't even in the far reaches of Siberia, this is in Maryland, USA! I'm reasonably convinced they don't shut down the state and declare rule of the jungle until they can plow their way through it, and yet we go into a mild panic as soon as the first flake hits the ground, normally only ending up with the same effect you get when you sieve icing sugar over a Victoria Sponge: it looks pretty, but is hardly noticeable. What about countries where they have "real" weather, like Kansas where summer consists of baking heat, sudden downpours and lack of humidity. Oh, and freaking huge tornadoes that blow through occasionally. Or Siberia, say. They get the joy of an average winter temperature of -20c! In fact, northern Siberia is so cold, the soil is permanently frozen, which must be utterly hilarious if you're a grave-digger. Or Alan Titchmarsh.

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There's One Slight Problem With Saving Fuel...

        Being a thrill-seeking, fun loving, edge-of-the-seat kinda guy, I decided to break the habit of a lifetime and read an actual newspaper the other day. Since then, I've learned that apparently, we're all running out of fuel, that everyone is doomed to a lifetime of pain and sniffles, and that the Daily Express are still obsessed with Diana. Further venturing into the archives of the Daily Mail draws me to a list of things that cause cancer, and the answer it seems, is everything in the whole world! No seriously, it's a combination of electricity, long fingers, being tall, peanut butter and (my personal favourite) Prince Charles' Organic Crisps. The only obvious conclusion that anyone can draw from this is to build a shelter and camp out, waiting patiently for the plague to pass by us. So long as you don't bring any cancer-causing bread with you. Or be a man. Or a woman. All of these will literally make you explode in front of everyone's eyes. I'd be happy to dismiss this as sheer panic-talk and buy them all new tinfoil hats to replace their old ones, but then it occurred to me that they have a circulation of over 2 million! That's a lot of people who I assume spend the first few hours rocking in the foetal position every morning before braving the front door.

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Yes, It's Nice, But Do You Really Need All Of It?

Normally, when I have "time off" from something, it's a nice relaxing affair. That sporadic double bank holiday in Spring, for example, consists mostly of me sleeping. Then, when I've dragged myself out of bed at a time closer to when I'd get back from work than when I'd leave for work, I'll sit there and make lots of interesting plans, ranging from finding some cold sausages to how to carve an evil lair out of a volcano without (a) dying or (b) anybody noticing. They're relaxing times, full of dressing gowns, eating beans from a tin without a single care and pretending I'm a multi-squillionaire and going through RightMove/AutoTrader and finding my dream house/car. However when it comes to Christmas, I get more time off than any other time in the year, yet I need a holiday to recover from it! Seriously, Having spent two weeks moving house (which, without a van, was a very busy time indeed) I then ran full-pelt into the fun of Christmas shopping, followed by a bigger national tour than U2. Seriously, I've had to go and see my Mum, my Dad, my Grandparents, my Aunts, Mrs Max's Mum, Mrs Max's Dad, Mrs Max's Sisters and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Or so it feels. New year's eve-eve will be the only day where I have literally nothing planned, and I intend to keep it that way.

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Who Cares About "Price"? It's What You Get That's Important!

As we screech towards the end of October and slippy-slide into November, you'll find me a very excited Max. This has nothing to do with the up-coming fireworks extravaganza that spans mid-October and finishes some time just after the start of January (known as Bonfire night). Despite my awesome plans, it isn't even Halloween either, for which the great wide world of the Internets has given me an excellent idea to confuse my neighbours. We'll make a door of our own, complete with frame, and place it in front of their front door with a "please knock" sign on it. When they open their front door and see ours, they'll knock on it, then we'll open it dressed as grannies, and coo over their "costumes" while we hand them sweets. Then, we'll pick up our door and move on, leaving them utterly confused as to what just happened. Failing that, I might just look to make an intricate and artistic pumpkin carving, just like this Lord Of The Rings one, this Native American one or this Octopus one. However I suspect that my hours of carving, cutting my finger, whining about it, followed by more carving will actually look like this.

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The Riots, And The One Large Causal Factor That's Been Overlooked.

I want to start today by telling you about this guy I know. He grew up in one of the poorest areas in Scotland. School clothes were always hand-me-downs, which doesn't always do wonders for someone's self esteem. He didn't get his first bike until age 12, after saving up months of paper-round money as his family simply didn't have the money. TV was simply this pretty box that other people had, a telephone was that thing that you walked down the street to get to, and you gave it 20p to ring your date on. It's something that's somewhat hard to imagine, but those are just the luxuries in life! The idea of the toilet being in the garden as a glorified hole in the ground today would be unimaginable anywhere, but that was the norm for our man. When he had his weekly bath, he didn't pull out the plug, he simply tipped the water out and hung it up in the shed. This wasn't even in between working in the cotton factories in the 1800's, this was the 1970's! So what's he up to today?

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The kids in the corner are far too easily amused, it seems.-

On the face of it, rock-climbing is such a daft sport. I mean, you only need one thing to break, or your friend holding the rope to be distracted by some passing naked ramblers and you'll end up slipping, and turning into a giant pizza on the floor. You'll also find yourself wearing Lycra, which is shocking in itself, and you'll sweat buckets, making you stink worse than an MP's honesty pledge or Charlie Sheen's sanity. But, it is a good way of staying fit and active, which is why, last week during the toasty warm weather, the Peak District was loaded with climbers edging up and down the rocks in colourful shoes, enjoying the seasonal warmth. I know this, because I used to go there a lot, years ago. It was fantastic; there would be people from all over the country, enjoying themselves, nobody causing trouble, and having a good time (while making sure you weren't downwind of anyone).

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