:: Caught Short ::

Well, I'm somewhat bloated today after a departmental meat feast at Rodizio Rico last night. Not somewhere I'd recommend for vegetarians, as the main attraction is unlimited barbecued meat. So lunch today was never going to be a big affair; Lava Lamp and I decided that we keep the tradition of "Sushi Friday" alive and went to Yo! Sushi. I suppose that's a bit less antisocial than a gobful of stinky cheese.

This piece from the Beeb sounds like it could be turned into yet another "which ... are you?" quiz, rather like the Rainbow one that limped into my inbox today.

And here's a challenge for all you football-loving slavophiles out there: try to get your hands on a pirate CD of Roman Abramovich's accounts.

That's it - I'm off to infiltrate the ICA with origami. No doubt there'll be some rounds of Cluedo to keep Hypatia happy, too.

:: Glee - Almost a Top-Tenner ::

Apart from the worrying events in Ukraine, a number of things have upped my glee-ometer of late. Those who know me well will recognise the steak of schadenfreude which runs through most of these.

  • Posh is dead, well, musically at least. much to the aural relief of the nation, Britain's most famous broomstick-stuck-to-a-couple-of-grapefruit has admitted defeat in her quest to gain credibility after the Spice Split. If only others would shut up, too...

  • hypatia syllabub was a recent search term which found Devukha. God knows what you were looking for - I hope you found it. In fact, it looks like something from a random text generator.

  • Everybody's doing the favourite words thing (I should have entered this for the last b3ta QOTW). Apparently the most popular English words amongst non-native speakers is mother. Indeed some people have turned talking about their favourite words into a career.

  • I watched the last ever edition of Changing Rooms this week and shed a crocodile tear for the DIY industry. Bereft are the manufacturers of MDF and laminate flooring for their tack-merchant champions are no more. Talking of which, Laurence Llewelyn-Bellend seems to be pleased that DIY is dying a death - he celebrates this with some pretentious guff, wafted away by a pendulous silk sleeve, no doubt.

  • My search for expensive comestibles has taken a strange turn. It seems that toasties depicting the Mother of God are worth rather more per ounce than white alba truffles...

  • And finally, back to Ukraine. It seems that the good burghers of Kyiv share their Russian neighbours' sense of humour - a gem from the Ukraine Observer. At least they don't rely on weak puns for their headlines.

:: Kyiv Zeka Ne Prijme! ::

An interesting afternoon for me. Whilst the furore raged on the streets of Kyiv (Kiev), I happened to be talking to a colleague based there. This may not be a contest for ruler of the free world, but the fallout from the Ukrainian Presidential election could be grave - pardon the nuclear pun. As I write, Victor Yanukovych has been declared the winner, but crowds still throng the capital's icy streets. Given international observers' suspicions of foul play, the situation could draw the Russian Federation (which has vociferously supported Yanukovych) and the EU and the USA (seen as favouring progressive opposition leader Viktor Viktor Yushchenko) into the fray. The term poison politics has aptly been applied to the bitterly entrenched positions of the candidates and their respective supporters.

Less than a month after the Bush travesty, this kind of back-biting may be difficult to stomach, but the accusations flying around Ukraine are wilder by far. My colleague for one is convinced that Yanukovych is an unreformed criminal, propped up by a corrupt regime. For her Yushchenko represents a tough stance on corruption and a political repositioning towards the west. Little wonder then that the US has been so keen to ensure a "fair election" enables Yushchenko to come to power. The best analysis I've read combines a scepticism for both candidates with a hearty disregard for some of the less savoury rumours that have been flying around.

By the way, the title translates as "Kyiv won't welcome a convict!"

Frivolity resumes on the morrow...

:: Snooze Review :

My Internal jukebox has gone into overdrive, with irritating ditties such as Dream A Little Dream Of Me the theme from Pigeon Street on a constant loop. On top of that, I had to contend with IJ renderings of Bette Davis Eyes, originally an 80s hit by Kim Carnes. I can only presume this is because I woke up in horror one night to discover Gwyneth Paltrow massacaring it in her father's dire film, Duets.

What a week it's been for über-buffoon Boris Johnson - with the removal of their most appealing and recognisable Shadow Cabinet member, the Tories really haven't got a political pot to piss in. I also discovered this week that the blond-mopped one has a brilliant middle name - de Pfeffel - which he shares with a minor German poet.

That hornet's nest of living anachronisms, the Royal Family, has come in for some media scrutiny in recent days. Not only has Chaz been branded out of touch (heaven forbid!), but a new snack brand has apparently got right up The Princess Royal's ample nose. At least Brenda and co should have fun patching up the entente cordial by throwing a bash for old leather-face Chirac at Windsor.

In brief, then: La Fenice, one of the world's great theatres, has reopened, Elton John's lecturing everyone on how to shop. The V&A have opened their new Architecture Gallery and Russell Crowe's been moonlighting. Gay animals are everywhere - Geri's dogs and a disgruntled Bulgarian pig farmer. And I still hate fucking ponchos: I think this was the final straw, but, at least now I know I'm not alone. I was also amused to see how a cutesy story about an extreme spelling bee fucked up Ananova's page design.

Oh, and I'm off for a long weekend. Not going away of course, but I shall be attending this. I loved the following description of the event: "an opportunity to delve into men’s perception of grooming products and discover how far they are prepared to go before it becomes a threat to their masculinity".

:: Top Ten Friday ::

Although I normally shy away from such lists, lack of inspiration has prevailed today. So here are some of my favourite words, in no particular order, with an apposite link for each:

  • plinth
  • spangle
  • ambergris
  • splurge
  • porphyry
  • blackguard
  • isinglass
  • palimpsest
  • nonchalant
  • fortuitous

Looking back at this list, I found it intriguing to consider what properties placed these words so high in my esteem. I whittled down the potential explanations to 3:
- Appearance: this tends to mean unusual combinations of letters. The choice of font may effect the appearance, but more important is the choice of case. Generally, the presence of ascenders and descenders makes lower case the preferable format in which to show off a fine looking word. According to this criterion, "bookkeeper" (3 consecutive doubled letters) and "Rousseauian" (5 consecutive vowels) almost made the cut.
- Pronunciation: self explanatory really. In the fuzziest sense, some words are simply lovely to say, or their pronunciation defies the laws of phonetics. Had I cheated and used Russian words, vzglyad ("a glance") and mgla ("haze") would have made the list because of their apparently baffling consonant clusters.
- Meaning: at one level this might concern the dictionary definition of a word. But most of all, it is the intricate web of literary, verbal and personal references which informs my taste in this respect.

So, gentle reader, what are your favourite words, and why? Suggestions welcome via the commenty link thing.

A few odds and ends to round off this post on the day when many flocked to John Peel's funeral. I hadn't realised that Peel was the Observer's pop critic during the 80s - some of his finest moments are recorded here. I wonder what he would have made of CocoRosie, the Grauniad's latest featured act.

It's nearly time to head off to my more interesting job after which I'll probably go out and need to use this to piece together my story come the morning. Whilst we're on the subject of Shakespeare, it's nice to know the RSC's on the mend, but I bemoan the effect that involvement in MSND has had on my emails. After including the line "a greater pile of wank I never saw" in an email to a friend, I penned the following ditty on the vicissitudes of iambic pentameter:

Pentameter informs my every word;
I cannot write without this rhythm now.
Iambic bollocks flutters from my tongue -
with every rhyme I ought to take a bow.
The bane of actors who perform the Bard
Is this contorted and affected speech,
Subconsciously pervading interaction
With unsuspecting friends and hangers on.
So fight we must, to free us from this trap
Of verbal niceties and rhythmic charm:
Let's do our best to syncopate our words
Thus: Stop, now, or I'll shoot...

:: Shakes-queer? ::

Midsummer Night's Dream continues apace, and with a plethora of highly favourable reviews, we look to be performing to some pretty good houses for the rest of the run. Other articles, interviews and listings which feature the production are (surprise, surprise) accessible by plugging midsummer melmoth into Google.

An article from The Londonist points out that at least one of these articles contains a fabulous Freudian slip: "Melmoth Theatre Company is currently showing its unique version of A Midsummer Night's Dream in Greenwich after pulling off Two Gentlemen of Verona last year." At the last count, at least five publications had published that article without altering that sentence...

If you feel like complaining to the Daily Mail, you'll be pleased to hear that a forum has been set up where you can carp on to your heart's content. Who knows, a little contraversy might go a long way...

It's easy enough to book tickets via email, so no excuses - only 10 performances to go.

And if you really can't be bothered to get off your fat arse and come to Greenwich, you might want to take up clay kitten shooting. Then who'll be sorry?

:: Dullsville ::

A dreary couple of days at work for me. My latest mini-project is Automotives - I can hardly keep my eyes open...

So it was some relief yesterday to go for lunch with Lava Lamp, followed by a quick trip to Comptoir Gascon to purchase some of their superlative Crème Brûlée. The only other morsels of joy have been Elton John's sweary attempt to get Chris Moyles off the airwaves and today's launch of Firefox 1.0. And in the wake of Dr Rufus' search for the most expensive animal weight for weight, I noted that a 2.4lb truffle sold for $41000 in New York yesterday. That's a pretty good price per kilo, but perhaps there's some other foodstuff which might top it. Incidentally, saffron sells for about $35 an ounce, calculating to around $1235 per kilo. Answers on a postcard, please. Or just add a comment below...

:: A Short Announcement ::

Can I just say Yay! for making it 5 days in a row. Anyone would think I didn't have a thing to do...

Normal (non-posting) service will be resumed over the weekend.

:: Friday Feast ::

In honour of the new Spam advertising campaign, the Guardian has compiled a cross-section of opinions on that flabby pink pseudo-meat. Surprisingly enough, this mainstay of rationbook cuisine has a devoted following in the US, with a novelty Spam-Mobile handing out free slabs of porky goodness to all and sundry. Resisting (most of) the obvious references, I was interested to note that Hormel also produce the rather more upmarket Carapelli Olive Oil. This is one of the more interesting features of my job: unearthing the unholy culinary alliances brought about by multinational food companies. So, for example, Marmite and Ben & Jerry's are both ultimately owned by Anglo-Dutch megafirm Unilever, who also possess an extensive non-food portfolio of familiar brands. In order to promote its diversity, the company has invested millions in a new logo, accompanied by all the corporate wank you might expect.

For lunch today with Lava Lamp, I enjoyed a heart-warmingly stodgy portion of spicy Corn Chowder. This type of soup is a personal favourite (although you do see the occasional dodgy recipe. I'm also a big fan of the New England (fish) and clam varieties, the latter of which is a must (as well as the obvious!) at the Grand Central Oyster Bar.

And just in case you thought I'd forgotton the serious bit, I was interested to read Simon Schama on Divided America. Some thought provoking statements indeed. Perhaps the oft-mooted idea of New York's secession from the Union will once again rear its head. No doubt the recent actions of the USAF will only strengthen this view...

:: From One Former Superpower To The Current One ::

It seems that the Russian press is just as pessimistic about the US presidential election result as I am. And those who sustained consciousness throughout Castro's 4-hour speech would have heard the bearded one (somewhat predictably) rail against the two-term cowboy. There are a number of reasons why Putin might well have supported Bush over Kerry, but according to another respected daily, Russia would have a hard time with either man resident in the White House. The main joy of that article is of course the photo of Bush and Putin admiring the fountains at Peterhof during a state visit.

I'm pleased to report that Midsummer Night's Dream has garnered a clutch of good reviews - some reason for good cheer as I wend my way from office to theatre each evening. Happily, if I pass out through sheer exhaustion, there should be a a doctor on hand as I await the delayed train to Greenwich.

Should I get bored (rather than passing out/getting pushed onto the rails by over-eager commuters), I might do well to stare at the rail maps for amusement. Puerile it may be, but the thought of people getting off at Effingham Junction has lightened my mood on many a frosty night in Network Rail's establishments. Thankfully, you too can search for amusingly named places in your vicinity without the aid of a map and a rampant imagination (UK postcodes only). No doubt, you'll be amused to hear that I live near Cock Pond, Mincing Lane and (Heaven forfend!) Minges.

And finally... an old favourite - search terms used to find this site recently. Smut, haute cuisine and origami just about sums it up:

  • renee zelleweger porn
  • rebecca loos wanking a pig movie
  • "nipples of venus" and "chestnuts" and "buy"
  • barfing pumpkin carving patterns
  • redneck write-ups
  • sonobe 900-unit

:: Dead In The Water ::

So that's it, then. The All-night Vigil was in vain and the chimp still rules the roost. Our man from the Daily Kos is at least realistic about the positive effect on the Democrat cause in his Grauniad article. The most depressing thing for me (beyond the continued parlous state of international "relations") is four years watching the US economy slip further down the toilet, as the greedy elite gloat over tax-breaks. Lest we become depressed about things, have a tit-bit of US election trivia: an explanation of Democrat and Republican party colours.

Before we all head off to celebrate a ritual dumbing down, I have exciting news. Shockingly enough it's about drama. I've been cast in a production of Bernard-Marie Koltès' Roberto Zucco. I have a feeling you're going to like this one, Hyp. More details to follow.

:: A Massive Election ::

My "day off" (from theatrical activities at least) was squandered in spectacular - but non-alcoholic - style yesterday, when I realised I had left my mobile at Little Timmy's house the night before. Arriving in deepest West London to pick it up, I was promptly invited in for dinner with LT and his charming wife, Double ElL. Several hours later I had become glued to the sofa, watching the Dead Ringers US Election Special and the new series of Little Britain.

Lest we forget, tonight's the night when half the American Electorate chooses who'll rule the world for the next four years. With my current schedule, I'll sadly have to decline Taxloss' offer of hospitality whilst compiling online election bulletins throughout the night. With both sides bemoaning this most negative of campaigns, it's interesting to contemplate how few people are voting positively for one candidate or the other. How many people are going for Kerry simply because he isn't Dubya. I know I would. Many analyses of the choice befalling the American electorate point to the fact that there probably isn't much to choose between the candidates. And as Taxloss notes, even lazy headline writers are having trouble finding original ways to describe the head-to-head contest...

Well, it's nice to know that the citezen's of the US haven't given up on reason altogether. In that particular piece the following sentence stands out: "The charity shop was selling clothes to raise funds for a group that buys protective vests for police dogs." Not for the first time tday did I wonder what state the world was in...

:: Bonne Année à Paris ::

After a little financial wrangling (depositing money into Bezuhoff's UK bank account for him to pay in dollars), I've paid for my accommodation in Paris over New Year. With Eurostar on my doorstep (ish) it looks like being a fun hassle-free trip to a city I haven't visited properly for nearly 10 years. I look forward to visiting La Grande Arche De La Défense on a cold clear day and gazing out from this paragon of sleek modernism onto the prissy Napoleonic ground-plan of the rest of the city. No doubt I shall also take in the contemporary Art exhibition at the Musée D'Orsay whilst my more romantic instincts will undoubtedly lead me to scale the Eiffel Tower at night. In celebration and anticipation, I nibbled on a delicious and expensive bar of French chocolate at my desk.

On to other news: my MP is getting into hot water over the government's proposed "Casino bill". I still haven't forgiven Ms Jowell for the dire Lend it Like Peckham headline... Oh how I look forward to the canvassing season next year. And if you were looking for comment on the political topic I'm trying to avoid, you'd be best off consulting the venerable Taxloss, while I retreat to the election bunker and wait for the fall-out to begin.

And finally... animals keep cropping up in unexpected places. First of all, my attention was drawn to this (no doubt old hat to Guardian weblog regulars). Then the b3ta newsletter linked to a Brazilian man and his drinking straw creations.

Zut, alors!