Are You Smarter than a 10 Year Old?

I've deliberately avoided watching this show for a while, knowing it would be drivel from the title. But. My wife finds it amusing to watch idiots be idiots, and sat me down to watch an episode with her on the weekend. I made it almost 5 minutes into the show before I had to change the channel in rage. It took me almost 15 minutes to calm down enough to see what I was watching.

Why? As if it's not enough that the format itself is tedious and infantile, and that the contestants seem to be hand-picked for their ability to make a mountain out of a shitpile, they also let incorrect answers through as correct!

5 + 3 x 0 = ?

5. Not a moment's hesitation on my part. The contestant gets 15. Not really surprising; she's a 30-something hairdresser, and has a receptionist to count the takings each day. The child gets 0. An understandable mistake, but a mistake nonetheless, right? Wrong!

"You should have trusted the 10-year-old" Noel simpers. "She's right."

WHAT. THE. FUCK?!

And the maths education of children across the nation takes a hit as they gleefully inform their teachers over the subsequent years that all the fundamental rules of arithmetic are subordinate to the magic phrase, "Anything multiplied by zero is zero."

*click*

Am I smarter than a 10 year old? Apparently. And definitely Noel Edmond. And his adult producers too. And so are you!

What I Learned on our Trip to Amsterdam

• My mind is clearly too enamoured of this reality to allow me to play in any other, to the point of anchoring me to my body with intense bouts of nausea every time I try to leave.
• Cyclists can be a real nuisance when they have complete right of way over all other traffic, even pedestrians.
• Market forces making a cup of coffee more expensive than a marijuana joint - completely understandable, and yet still bemusing.
• Buying vodka is a matter of asking for stock to be retrieved from a secret stash; this gives drinking spirits in Amsterdam the illicit thrill that harder drugs lack.
• A gorgeous hotel room can make all the difference.
• I gained an even greater respect and appreciation for the non-smoking laws in the UK after breathing in cigarette exhaust almost everywhere we went.

I had a lovely time, but I see no reason to ever go back. Maybe Brian Aldiss had it right when he had his elderly archaeologist Daniel Potts remark in Super-State, "Travel does not broaden anyone's mind. It merely confirms one's prejudices." I would like to believe otherwise, but then I look up at my list and wonder.

Not quite a nightmare, but...

I just woke up from a dream in which I was learning to deep-throat thick, long cock! The physical sensation of getting just so far and then having to wait for the muscles in the throat and jaw to relax to allow the final push was startlingly real. I'm a little afraid of going back to sleep now.

The truly strange thing is that I woke up with a rather sore throat and jaw, which of course begs the question; did my sore throat provide the impetus for the dream, in the same manner as the ringing of an alarm clock can be transmuted into the tolling of a bell or a fire klaxon, or did the dream itself give rise to a conscious psychosomatic response? I'm leaning towards the latter, if only because as I'm coming fully awake, the pain is receding.

I love odd experiences like this, truth be told; not the cock-sucking, per se, but clear reminders that our perception of reality is far more fluid than we like to believe. It's both exciting and a little scary, but mostly fascinating.

*stops rambling now*

Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd

Something to fend off the post-Xmas blues:



Released in the UK January 8th...

Fireworks display at Alexandra Palace

Guy Fawkes' seems to have fully made the transition to Fireworks Night. There was no Guy, there was no Bonfire - ending the Bonfire Night incarnation of the event - but what fireworks! The display ran for over 20 minutes, easily 10 longer than the distant flares over Battersea Park, visible from our superb elevated position on the south side of Allie Pallie. Although still images can never fully carry the impact of the shocking bursts of light and thuds of sonic booms that make huge fireworks displays such a delight, I'll try to share a little of the wonder with you anyway:

click through for larger images, m'kay?

That's the second night this weekend I've had sore cheeks from grinning too long, after the James Thierree wonderland Friday night:



*satisfied sigh*

Milk the system!

Any company foolish enough to offer silly sums of money for the ostensibly impossible is ripe for a little exploitation. That this particular scheme seems to benefit someone in need is almost secondary. Almost. Take a look for yourself...

P.S. If you do decide to lend your support, it's dead simple to add the download link to your homepage list, so that you don't have to remember to do it every day. It'll kick in every time you load your browser!

compliments of egadfly:
And if you don't know about multiple home pages:

For Firefox: Lifehacker: How To Set Up Multiple Home Pages In Firefox

For Internet Explorer: why use it? Well, if you insist: IE7 Multiple Home Pages

Flickr Toys

Ah, the fun to be had at BigHugeLabs:









The original version of that last picture almost didn't make it into my Flickr album at all, but the frame saves it.

Surreal Estate

Full marks to Foxtons for ingenuity in advertising.

Free the rice, for the rice wishes to be free

This is so much FUN! I managed a peak word level of 47 before I ran out of time and had to return to work, but the score really didn't matter. What amused me most was seeing just how many words I knew without realising I knew them. In many cases, I simply chose the synonym that felt right, and it was. Some deep brain connectivity going on there.

Feast your eyes and ears

I imagine this must be quite an audiovisual treat live:





Welcome to Blue Man Group.

Just off Avenue Q

Corridor Q
Originally uploaded by sinplicity.

I must have had my camera eyes in this weekend, because I kept wanting to take photos of everything I saw. Just as well I never had a decent camera with me, else I might never have got home.

This is one of my very very few successful phone camera snaps, which came out exactly as it looked to the eye; a rare thing indeed.

*likes bright yellow a LOT*

Little demons that flutter in our ears

this mind dump brought to you compliments of a response to a lj-Polyamory post

Is it true that we have no obligation to anyone for our actions? I can think of at least 3 obvious exceptions to the statement in general (those to whom we've extended a contractual obligation e.g. married or legal partners, employers; those with whom we have a familial obligation e.g. our children and, to a lesser degree, our parents and siblings; those to whom we owe fiscal obligations e.g. creditors, service staff) and I'm fairly sure there are more, so I've narrowed it down to the topic under discussion:

Is it true that we have no obligation to anyone for the lovers we take?

I can see why this would be an attractive proposition. The current culture of human rights espousal in Western culture tells us that we have almost limitless rights to self-expression. Surely who we take into our beds falls into this category? If I want to sleep with you, then I have the right to do so, and anyone who says otherwise is trying to curtail a fundamental human right, and is therefore in the wrong. Why would I apologise for my actions to such a person. I am right.

There is no sarcasm or irony intended in that examination. I was trying to follow a logical path of argument stemming from the initial proposition, and it would seem that limitless rights of self-expression might just result in a complete lack of obligation for one's actions.

So why am I having such a problem with the concept?

Mostly, I think, because I believe that there is one obligation that I always owe, irrespective of how many others I might choose to accept, and that is my obligation to myself. I need to like the person I am in order to live with myself. I don't know that I could like someone who behaves, with full knowledge of the circumstances, in a way that is almost certain to cause pain to someone somewhere, even if there is no deliberate intention to cause pain or the person who will be hurting is not a friend. Just because our village is now so large that we don't know everyone in it doesn't make it okay to hurt someone in that village in a way that, up until the last few hundred years or so, would have been inescapable and unignorable. Not for me, anyway.

When I do cause unavoidable pain - and causing pain or offence is unavoidable as long as people can hold different opinions - I will always apologise for causing pain, even if I feel my actions are justified.

Maybe that's it; maybe that's where the logical dissonance arises. You say, "I would NEVER apologize to someone for who I had sex with", but I don't think that's what people are saying. I think they're saying, "Apologise for causing pain." Acknowledge that a wrong was perpetrated, and that unnecessary pain resulted, and go from there.

*doffs Logical hat, and unwillingly dons Opinion hat, handing out pinches of salt to be used as necessary*

I do think that it's a little naive to simply absolve yourself of any obligation to a dishonest lover's monogamous partner. I believe that the responsibility in any relationship lies equally with all participants. So, when you're sleeping with a monogamous individual who is cheating on a partner, and you do so in full knowledge of the fact, you are equally to blame for the transgression of the existing contract of trust. I know this is a judgmental statement, and I know we're supposed to be supportive and understanding of one another, given that we're all flying in the face of current social norms, but...

Every monogamous person who cheats on their partner with someone requires someone to participate in the act. If the cheating occurs without that participant being aware of the person's monogamous status, the word for that participant is 'victim', and no-one would ever hold a victim accountable for the acts committed against them. When the participant knows about the monogamy, and goes ahead anyway... well, alcoholics coined a word for 'those cunning, compulsive and malevolent compatriots we eagerly allow to drag us along to our willful destruction'¹ - enablers.

So the real question you need to ask yourself is, "Am I okay with being an enabler?" and not, "Do I apologise for who I have sex with?" The answer is, of course, still up to you - who the hell knows what's 'right' and 'wrong' anyway? - but answering it may give you a different perspective to your current view, and new perspectives are always handy!

*rips Opinion hat off and flings it savagely into the closet to resume gathering dust*

For the record, I HATE finding myself on the same side of the fence as the Moral Majority. It almost always means I'm looking at something the wrong way.

*waits eagerly for someone to help me back across*

¹Although alcoholics may have given us the concept of 'enablers', it is actually The Enablers who provided the quote. I am not implying any connection between the two.

I'm poly; where's the problem?

I see something like this, and I'm reminded just why I prefer my way to society's.

Nightmares and Dreamscapes

The photos taken at the party on Saturday are up on Flickr, under a Family and Friends filter, for reasons obvious to attendees. If you aren't able to see them, and wish to, please let me know.

You should see the barrage of stupid questions

Anyone who has ever worked as a store attendant/video rental jockey/nameless peon of some sort will appreciate the Acts of Gord. For example,

"I said it was stolen. I don't owe you anything! My mom said that when a game is stolen that I don't have to pay for it."

This actually happens, those of who who've never been clerks. Swear to Gord. Oh, and sheer perfectitude:

The Gord often wonders why people threaten to never come back after they've been told never to return.

Nods knowingly, and wonders why more employers don't do this:

"I'd like to drop off a resume."

"Sure."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm marking it."

He failed.

Book alerts

Month after month of looking for a copy of Atrocity Archives, and now I discover it was republished back at the beginning of the month! Needless to say, I bought me one, and pre-ordered The Jennifer Morgue while I was at it. Also, to my great delight, the final book in the Watches Trilogy caught my eye while I was comparing high street prices at Waterstones, so it will be mine also. Be advised, fellow readers.

The intrinsic problem with web apps

Is it just me, or is Facebook completely down at the moment? And there I was, wanting to share this with the Facebook community (because the irony is just too delectable) and learning an important lesson instead. I wanted to mock, not to learn! The unjustity of it all!

(3 minutes of angst and irritation later, and it's back. Another lesson learned.)

Two rights can make a wrong

It's funny how, sometimes, you can be completely right about something, and completely wrong at the same time. Take, for example, a heated discussion about the age of sexual maturity. It's a rather tricky topic, since different cultures have markedly different opinions on the matter. The one unassailable fact, though, would seem to be - for women at least - that menarche signifies the body's readiness to bear children. It would seem to follow, then, that any postponement of sexual congress is a consequence of societal constraints and very little else. After all, girls were married off at a terribly young age in most Western cultures as recently as a century ago (and still are in some African and Eastern cultures) and that seems to have done no real harm, right?

Well, as I realised on doing some further reading, that argument doesn't hold much water, for the simple reason that the age of menarche back then was substantially later than it is now; a relatively mature 17 instead of the almost juvenile 13 of today's youngsters. So arranging the marriage of your pubescent daughter didn't mean the same thing that it does now, and explains why - in spite of physical indications to the contrary - that the contemporary legal age of consent (and quite coscionably the social age of sexual maturity) is kept artificially high. How high is still a matter of open debate, but the argument for keeping it above the current physical age of puberty is sitting a little easier with me.

Spoiled for choice

Maybe all that hentai has shifted my arousal instincts, because I found this (NSFW!) appealing on every level, with not the slightest tinge of horror or disgust.

Scamming a scammer

A little project has been the source of much mirth, merriment and mockery for the last week. I'm almost sad to see it come to an end.

Japanex

A fairly small expo by any standards, Japanex was nonetheless interesting enough to keep us amused from our arrival just after 9 right through to the end of the cosplay (costume play) competition at 4.30. There was just enough of a spread of retail therapy - food, toys, clothes, manga and anime - to part even hardened shoppers from their cash, and a few grace notes of culture - kendo and taiko drumming exhibitions, origami and go stands - to enhance the illusion that it was anything other than an anime convention. But the flood of fanchildren in their lolita outfits and character costumes quickly dispelled any doubt, and provided the main focus of the day. As hard as Japanese culture afficionados may try, it's still the export of their popular culture that's dominant in the West.

I was most impressed by two things. The kendo exhibitions took me by surprise, as I hadn't realised just how much of a mental discipline it is until I watched how micro-movements are used to unsettle your opponent and camouflage your true strike. Also, the quality of some of the cosplay outfits was unbelievable. To compete in cosplay, the outfit has to be made by hand, not bought, but many of the outfits truly appeared to have been assembled by talented seamstresses and modellers. The only disappointment of the day had nothing to do with the expo; I had relied on my phone camera for snaps of the show, and the quality completely let me down. Not going to make that mistake again. I seem to have rescued a few of the better snaps, so:


A really decent Bomberman outfit, winner of the "Cutest Costume" award. Would also have won "Hottest Internal Temperature" award, as well as "Most Dangerous to Wear", as it had no eye- or breathing-holes in the head. Made from chicken wire, foam and material.


These two had made their Chobits costumes from scratch, and they were simply amazing; good enough, in fact, to net them Runner Up place in the Cosplay competition. Chii (on the left) had to lead Freya (on the right) along the ramp for the parade, as she was without her glasses to complete the look, but was clearly blind as a mole.


Bleach seemed to be the anime du jour with practically an entire cast's worth of cosplayers apperaing in full costume for Japanex. It was astounding that not only did they not know each other but that they had somehow managed not to duplicate a single character.


This Kurosaki Ichigo cosplayer stole the limelight from his fellow Bleach'ers. Pictures just don't do justice to the size of these swords, or the weight!


Based in Greenwich (hence the 'Meantime' moniker) these drummers were quite astoundingly LOUD. Good, too. They have occasional free perfomances, and I'm sorely tempted to catch one of their lunchtime shows at the Euston Tower, to see how they compare outdoors.


Kevin was practically drooling over this display of restored Japanese swords. They were incredibly beautiful, in his defence.


The Kendo exhibition did steal the show, for me, and not because of some supposed manly aspect of martial arts but simply because it was the most polished and impressive performance on the day. Strictly speaking, this is a picture of an Iaido kata, since it involves drawing and striking with a naked sword.


Kendo proper. You can clearly see the full suit worn to provide targets for striking - head, wrists, torso and throat. The speed of the strikes completely flummoxed my poor E70. In fact, most of the time, the human eye couldn't follow the strikes easily.

We also caught a rare appearance of a trained furisode-san (sponsored geisha) outside of Japan. Here is Hisami performing a Nihonbuyo dance¹. She took pains to make it clear that, out of respect for the actual geisha tradition, the dance that the furisode-san do is deliberately altered from the original.

¹Hisami has asked me to remove this video, as she thought her dancing was awful and doesn't want it to be representative of her normal performance.

The biter bit

So the University of Oxford decided to discipline students for breaches of its code of conduct based on evidence obtained from a student's Facebook profile that had inadvertantly been left in the public domain. Not surprising, really; it wouldn't be the first instance of an organisation hiding behind the small print to justify a common-sense trangression of generally held principles. What would be fun, though, is if I can get the same community that made the charge possible at all to band together to settle any fines levied, in the name of solidarity in the face of invasion of privacy. Watch this space...

Tongue-in-cheek or travesty?

Looks like we either visited Cerne Abbas just in time, or just too soon, depending on your take of current events.

You've got to take your hat off to whoever actually did the dirty. If you've been on the walk around that hill, you'll know that it's a horribly steep climb from the foot of the giant to its head, and the hill is by no means a straight climb, as it curves away to a flat mount, making the field a bulge to work on. You can't even properly see the giant unless you're in the air above it, so getting Homer so clearly and proportionately drawn under those conditions is quite the feat.

Blog activity

Livejournalage
Originally uploaded by sinplicity.

It occurred to me that it's been a while since I last had anything of interest - mine, that is - to write here, and that there might just be a pattern in the level of blogging I do throughout the year. So, I set out my entries on a monthly basis, and converted them into an activity list by representing them as a fraction of the overall activity for the year, in order to compare the monthly figures, et voila! I've use a 6th order polynomial - the highest Excel will go - to smooth out the plots, and hopefully produce some corresponding peaks and troughs.

The only thing that stands out for me is the high activity at the beginning of each year; clearly New Year's Remorse at work there. But there are also little blips just after Easter and again after the summer holidays which correspond nicely with my regular pattern of vacationing, in that the blogging surges just after my holidays, when I am nice and rested and have energy to spare for essentially pointless activity.

Oh my sainted Starcraft!

It's official. Blizzard are making a sequel. Starcraft 2 is in production. And there was much rejoicing.

Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind

My compliments to Ray Charles for the fitting lyrics

My favourites for this year's Eurovision made it through the admittedly weak competition in the semi-final, and will be pitted against some decidedly strong contendors in tomorrow's final. I don't hold out much hope for a victory - the music's way too good to have any hope of garnering the popular vote - but there is a small spark of light in the selection of semi-finalist winners. At least two of the other contestants going through can lay claim to a semblance of musical integrity, and many of the strong favourites - inadulterated pop acts all - have been ousted in their favour. Maybe the Eurovision audience is ready for musicians in the competition. If so, then it's "Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through" for me.

And another Daemon

Zara's, after she caught sight of mine and wanted to know:

Stop that, it's s... ooooh!

I know I've always maintained that Willow is way hotter than Buffy, especially in Series 6, when she goes all Big Bad Willow, but The Erotic Adventures of Buffy and Evil Vampire Willow is just ridiculous. Yet... Strangely... Compelling...

That's my weekend spoken for

The lovely people at Play sent out my special edition of God of War II to arrive on the release date. Goodbye mortal realm, for a short while at least. Pizza, port and Playstation... Mmmmm.

[Update] Actually, not the whole weekend, as it turns out. Six hours on Friday night and 8 hours on Saturday were enough to complete it. Of course, my hands were like claws by the end, and my eyes like coals and, most painful of all, my right elbow like that hot point on a wire coathanger that's been bent repeatedly until it's on the verge of stress fracture, but it was worth every twinge and whinge. In fact, I'm going to play it through again now, in Bonus mode, so excusez-moi, s’il vous plait...

A Dark Materials movie trilogy

Oh happy day! Now let's hope they don't do a Narnia on it.

Webclippings

I just have to share these:

• Something to remind you just how irretrievable every day of your life is
• Something to help you escape the fact
• Something to fuel the inevitable nightmares (nsfw!)
  

And the award for cunning use of visual elements in a music video goes to...

Just caught Star Guitar by Chemical Brothers on Sophie Ellis Bexter's MixTape on E4, and was quite blown away by the neat use of visual elements that tie in with the song construction. Easier shown than explained:

It's almost as fascinating to see the principle being developed for the pitch to the producers:

In case you're wondering how it is I would even be watching a MixTape session on E4, well, you try to find something worthwhile on daytime television when you're on your back recuperating from major surgery!

Eurovision 2007 warm-up

After last year's Lordi victory, I'm more than a little curious about this year's contest. Just how many people will copy them to try replicate their feat?

Well, all entries were finally posted to the Eurovision site today, so I took a quick gander. As it turns out, only one country (Switzerland) went all the way down that particular dead end, but there do seem to be far more rock-y entrants this year as a result, which is not a bad thing necessarily. There are, at my count, SIX girly symphonic rock entries, very reminiscent of the like of Lacuna Coil and Evanescence, so I'll get my fill of eye candy at least. Israel are coming in with a very tongue-in-cheek political comedy act, and Denmark's Drama Queen will probably garner quite a few votes for its completely Cabaret feel.

I'll be voting for Georgia, though. I knew that the instant the first few bars of the song played. It may not win - in fact, going by previous contests, I would judge it too good to win, not enough cheese - but it's just so musically fine that I would feel remiss supporting anything else. Sopho (Sofica) Khalvashi has a lovely, lovely voice, and the wonderful tempo contrast in My Story between her melody and the musical counterpoint gives me goosebumps.

But don't take my word for it - listen for yourself! You'll see...

Delightful Dita

I know it's just not the same as seeing her in person, but it's still a lovely bit of fun.

As aspirin to my Spring fever

So much for my grand plans to go rambling in the winter sun today. A complete lack of takers for my Colne Valley proposition led to a fairly decent alternative involving Highgate Cemetery and the taking of pictures therein. Unfortunately, in spite of the numerous assurances from the weathermen - or perhaps, indeed, because of them - gray skies predominate, and damp the ardour for nature ambling. I wasn't impatient with the tail end of winter before, but now that my spring sap has been woken, I'm getting antsy for some sun and green. Come on, Spring!

Collecting Double-Takes

Today's xkcd, although immensely funny in itself, has an even funnier tag:

Fun game: find a combination of two items that most freaks out the cashier. Winner: pregnancy test and single coat hanger.

Bwaaahahahaha!

My contribution: sharp knife and roll of bandages. Come play...

Another eminently desirable cartoon character

When the Metro first started publishing Nemi, they made a half-hearted effort to put the occasional strip on their site, but I'm pleased to see that they're pulled up their socks since then and are actually hosting all of the published strips now. I've been having a fabulous time going through them all, and as good as they all are, there are some especially pithy encapsulations of :

• Zara's attitude towards adulthood...
• ... and children
• ... and tact
• ... and dating
• ... and dieting
• ... and alcohol
• ... and I realise I'm married to Nemi :P
• Also, one or two specially for Jacqlyn
• ... and one for Kitty

Ah, just read them all. You won't regret it, I guarantee it.

To boldly go where no man has gone before

The sheep are revolting

A new kind of creature feature. Hell yeah!

Movie day (reprised)

Arthur and the Invisibles

Every bit as enjoyable and appealing as I had hoped. They managed to capture a genuine sincerity and warmth without descending into schmaltz. There were some lovely little snide asides as well as a whole lot of un-saccharine sweetness. The animation was fairly impressive too, with a lot of effort put into facial tweaks that make the characters compelling. I'm seriously considering buying it when the DVD is released, it's that good. Besides, Selenia's just so cute (yes, I have a thing for animated females.)

The Number 23

I didn't have great expectations for this, and was pleasantly surprised by the resulting suspense. It wasn't a cheesy horror adaptation at all, but more a variation on the paranoid obsessive genre, closely resembling The Machinist in its handling and subject matter. Jim Carrey was believable enough as both male leads that it took me a little while to figure out he was playing both characters, and the plot was paced well, keeping me hooked and guessing at least until the last 20 minutes, which is pretty impressive in comparison to my normal 'Eureka' time.

Ghost Rider

Predictable plot, cheesy dialogue, cheesier posing, and none of that unexpected. I went for the flaming skull dude on a burning bike, and that's what I got, so no complaints.

The Illusionist

Probably would have had more of an impact if The Prestige hadn't mined this exact same vein first, but it was well crafted and well presented and Rufus Sewell as the Crown Prince completely stole the show for me, with Paul Giamatti coming a close second, completely eclipsing Edward Norton and Jessica Biel.

Movie day

As I do every once in a while, more often when there's a cascade of cinema I want to see, and occasionally when I have nothing better to do, I'll be at the Cineworld in the Docklands today watching a handful of movies:

14.45 Arthur and the Invisibles - the trailer appealed, what can I say?
16.25 The Number 23 - filler, and hopefully not too tedious
18.10 Ghost Rider - got to catch this at the cinema, as it'll be pants on DVD
20.30 The Illusionist - wasn't going to watch, but it's been getting good reviews

The timing's quite tight, but I'm pretty sure I can make it between them during the adverts! I was hoping to shoehorn The Good Shepherd into that list, but it seems there are no really late shows tonight, so I'll have to keep that for another visit, or wait for the DVD release; I don't think it'll suffer for the change in format.

I'm perfectly happy watching these on my own - sad as that may seem to some - but company is welcome too.

Jury service - Day 9, and last

Free! I'm free to go back to my normal humdrum life! I can't wait.

It was a close call, actually. Given the number of jurors out at trial, and the number of cases scheduled to start tomorrow (quite unusually, as it is rare for cases to be started on Fridays), the jury manager was seriously considering asking all of us waiting in the jury lounge at 4pm to return tomorrow, to ensure they had enough jurors. She did a little math, and announced that, if 20 people volunteered to return tomorrow, the rest of us could be dismissed completely. You'd be surprised, but there was actually a rush to get to the counter in time to be one of the 20! I hung back, waiting for the mad stampede to subside, then slipped in at the back of the queue to get my expenses verified before the remainder realised that we were released. I never thought I'd be so happy to be returning to work.

I didn't get out completely unscathed, though. I was called to a trial just before lunch this morning. It was a complete departure from the conventional trial by challenge that you'd expect. The Crown's case was unchallenged, and the Defence and trial itself were a formal requirement of due process in the case of an assault and bodily harm charge against a person who was incapable of entering a plea for reasons of mental illness. The judge was quick to explain the nature of the trial, and the variation of its form, as we were not there to deliberate on guilt, but merely to act as impartial confirmation that the acts described had in fact been committed by the Defendant. The oaths and affirmations we made were, therefore, somewhat different to the standard format, as was the process of trial. The Prosecution merely outlined the agreed facts of the case, whereon the Defence established that they were not challenging the evidence. The judge selected a foreman - the person closest to him - and without further ado asked him to speak on the behalf of all of us as to whether we agreed that the Defendant had done the acts that led to the charges being brought. The look of consternation on the foreman's face when asked by the bailiff whether his answer of "yes" to the question "Do you agree that the Defendant did the act in Charge 1?" was the answer of the entire jury was priceless. Fortunately, the judge directed him to look around at the jury and answer in light of our unanimously nodding heads, which simplified things.

It must have been clear from our expressions that some of us - myself, at least - found the whole affair a little hasty and convenient, and the judge picked up on this and reassured us that our presence wasn't merely a rubber stamp affair and was designed especially to prevent exactly that scenario in which 'undesirables' are despatched to mental hospitals without any impartial witnesses to verify the legitimacy of the action. It can't happen very often, though, as our jury usher commented it was the first time he'd seen such a trial, and he's been at Snaresbrook over 13 years. The other jurors, as we were led out, opined that it was all a grand waste of time, but I disagree, if only because it showed me yet another facet to the criminal justice system of which I had been unaware.

Jury service - Day 8

And very nearly my last one, too. Those of us who began jury service last Monday were on the brink of being dismissed completely this afternoon, when the jury manager was informed that a whopping 7 new cases are being introduced tomorrow, and she might just run out of new jurors and have to make inroads on the veterans. So, having dodged a second case since Monday, I may yet find myself involved in a further trial.

So, another reading day, although a little less reading and more talking seemed to be the order of the day. There was another jury out of a rape case, and so we had a fair sized group discussing their thoughts and reactions to very similar scenarios. One interesting difference between our respective ways of handling the deliberation was the choice regarding the assessment of a verdict at the beginning of deliberation. It seems that some juries elect to hold off on counting verdicts until they've gone through the evidence at least once, and others prefer to get a reading on the prevailing mood right at the start. There are, of course, pros and cons for both methods. Finding out that the entire jury is agreed on a verdict at the very beginning can save a lot of wasted time if they had begun deliberating immediately. On the other hand, returning a verdict without deliberation could result in some crucial evidence being overlooked or forgotten. This, I guess, is one of the complaints about the jury system as it exists; it is as inconsistent as the mix of people chosen, so one person's justice is not the same as another's.

On a lighter note, it was decided that, since no direction is given on the choice of a foreman, and there is no way to choose a juror who would be 'best' at the job, as it has to be done right at the start of deliberation, it is as good a criterion as any other to choose the juror with the neatest handwriting. After all, one of the primary roles of the foreman is to pass requests and questions to the judge in writing, so why not make the judge's day just a little easier by making the notes easy on the eye?

Unless I'm selected for a case tomorrow, we've been assured it'll be our last day. So at least one more of these posts will grace my blog.

An apology for the Iraq war

You've just gotta like this guy.

Awesome Tshirt slogans

"Jesus Saves. Everyone else takes damage."

"Mead! Making half-orcs possible since 1182"

Go buy now!

Jury service - Day 7

Reading day. Finished one book, started a second. So good.

While sitting in the lovely, cool, quiet upstairs jury lounge, I overheard the conversation of a few jurors who had just been discharged from their case, which turns out to have been another rape case, and took them about 6 hours to decide on a Guilty verdict. It was fascinating to hear exactly the same discussion on their lips as we had yesterday; how hard everyone had worked to make sure of his guilt, how anxious they had all been about the responsibilty, how little they'd wanted a trial of that nature and how diligently they had applied themselves regardless. It certainly boosts my faith in the general populace an iota that 24 random people all faced with the same stressful task could manage it so well.

Jury service - Day 6

"Have you, the jury, reached verdicts on either or both of the charges laid against the Defendant?"

"Yes."

"On the first charge, of vaginal rape, have you reached a verdict on which at least ten of you are agreed?"

"Yes."

"How do you find the Defendant; guilty, or not guilty?"

"Guilty."

"Was that a unanimous verdict, or a majority verdict?"

"Majority."

"And what was the majority?"

"10 guilty, 2 not guilty."

"So, a majority of 10 to 2?"

"Yes."

"And on the second charge, of oral rape, have you reached a verdict on which at least ten of you are agreed?"

"No."

"Are you likely, with further time, to reach a verdict?"

"No."

"Very well. Given the time taken to reach this point, I will discharge you from reaching a verdict on the second charge. Thank you for your time."

Thus ended 8 hours and 5 minutes of deliberation over 3 days, on top of the 4 days of the trial itself. We were taken back to the jury loungue and re-registered for entry into further cases but, through either good fortune or benevolent planning, none of us were called to a new trial this afternoon, which is just as well, given the general emotional exhaustion on the part of the entire jury. Date rape cases are among the hardest to have to decide, for the obvious reason that it almost always boils down to the word of one person against that of another. You can see why I've been bemoaning my lot.

The charges were brought by a young Latvian girl - Irina Idiyatulina, the Claimant - who had been working in the UK as a part-time waitress for about the previous year. Last summer (18th July, to be precise), she was picked up by a Moldovan immigrant - Oleg Vrabie, the Defendant - that she had met in Stratford a few days before and taken back to the shared house in East Ham in which he had a room. They proceeded to have a few drinks with some of the other tenants, chatting in Russian - the only language they all had in common - and continuing to drink until late in the evening, getting through at least a bottle and a half of Starka in the process. Towards midnight, they ended up in his room on the second floor. A little while later, she was seen to run out of the house with Oleg hot on her heels. Refusing his offers to see her home, she called the police, flagging down a car in the midst of her call to find out where she was to inform the despatch officer. On hearing her allegations, some policeman approached the house, arresting Oleg outside and, given the nature of her story, also all the men resident at the address.

Those are the bare facts of the case. It came to light during the trial that certain additional facts weren't being disputed by either the Defence or the Prosecution; for example, that the DNA of semen found in Irina's vagina was a match for Oleg, and that Irina's blood alcohol level at the time she was picked up by the police was 2.5 times the legal driving limit. Irina was examined by a medical officer, who prepared a body map from her examination showing all bruises and lacerations visible on Irina at the time of the examination, as well as a series of photographs cataloguing the major examples. Irina gave her statement to the police on what is known as an ABE (Achieving Best Evidence) video. A little later, Oleg was questioned by a Project Sapphire officer, and a statement transcribed from this interview. Statements were taken from all the men arrested, all of whom were released except Oleg, as he was the only person specifically named in Irina's statement that the police had found at the address. In addition, photographs were taken of the areas of the house at which the events occurred according to Irina's statement. Later on, additional witness statements were obtained from other tenants at the address.

This is what we had to go on, then. This, and the verbal testimony given in evidence during the trial by the Claimant, the one witness who appeared at trial, the medical officer and the police officer who complied the statement and, in fact, was handling the case and, finally, The Defendant, who gave evidence in spite of there being no legal obligation for him to do so. It would have been impossible to defend him if he had not done so, as we quickly realised as we were led through the evidence, but he could well have declined to give evidence if the Defence felt that the Crown's case was too weak to prosecute him successfully.

Without going through all the highly relevant but dramatically tedious minutiae of the case, it's possible to get a sense of the reasoning the jury accepted to come to the verdict that was given.

The Prosecution opened with Irina, and allowed her to tell her story of the excuse Oleg gave to get her back to the house, the rather surprising inclusion of drinks in his plans for her evening, the deliberate steering of her rather drunk form up to the vicinity of his bedroom, the increasingly violent assault that escalated to strangulation and eventual rape, the subsequent oral rape and then the attempted rape by one of the other men who had been in the garden before she managed to alert the house to her distress, get her things together and get out of the house to call the police. Throughout her evidence, given behind a screen to isolate her from the Defendant and translated between English and Latvian - which slowed things up immensely, as you can imagine - she was consistent and believable, particularly when cross-examined by the Defence. She exhibited genuine surprise when it was suggested that she had been flirting with all the men, kissing Oleg on a number of occasions and even fondling his penis underneath his shorts. Even when confronted by an apparent discrepancy in her account under oath and her original statement, she maintained her version of events without any apparent doubt, and it was then discovered that it was the Defence who had made the mistake, which she had corrected them on. The one witness called not only seemed to corroborate certain telling elements of Irina's account, such as the sounds of a struggle from the room in which Irina would have been and the presence of the second rapist whose identity Irina eventually recalled but who was never found by the police, but she also gave clear signs of being intimidated by the Defendant herself, having to be cajoled by the Prosecution into identifying him by name, preferring to refer to Oleg as 'him' or 'the one' throughout.

By contrast, Oleg's evidence - translated from Russian - was damning. His statement to the police on his arrest was filled with outright lies. He gave a false name to the arresting officer, and it transpires that he is an illegal immigrant who has already been deported once and has managed to find his way back into the country. The name he gave was that of a legal immigrant, who had stressed he was to use it for work purposes only. He strenuously denied that he had had sex with Irina at all, in spite of being reminded that samples would have been taken from both Irina and him, and that both their clothes were in evidence to be examined. He placed himself outside in the garden at the time of the putative second rape, when another of the men arrested had seen him on the second floor dressed in nothing but a towel moments after Irina began screaming. He gave the second assailant's identity as Valiera, which agreed with Irina's statement, but Valiera was never found, and this would pose problems for his defence as the trial approached.

If his statement was the first nail in his coffin, his evidence under oath in court was the rest of the box, the lid, the the hole and a shovel for the dirt. It was absolutely riddled with blatant fibs and fabrications, which gave his Defence pause for grimace on at least one occasion. He conceded that they had consensual sex, in direct contradiction to his statement to the police, and then claimed that he only lied to the police because he didn't understand what they were telling him and was merely trying to get everyone off with as little hassle as possible. This, despite the clear transcript showing that not only was he told the charges against him on three seperate occasions and confirmed that he understood the charges, but he even said "I did not rape her" at one point, showing clear understanding of his situation. He claimed that he had left Irina after they had had sex to have a shower and that he came back to find Nico - one of the other tenants - trying to rape her, and pulled him off her. Given that Valiera had never been apprehended, it seemed to us that he had decided to substitute Nico in his place, as he was known to have been in the house, having been arrested on the night. He told us that he had left the house after Irina had run off to get something to eat and then to go see his girlfriend, but he then went on to explain that he must have lost the sandals he was wearing when he first ran from the police. He had clearly forgotten that the arresting officer's statement was clear on the fact that, when first sighted, Oleg was barefoot. He told us he had pulled on the same shorts and shirt that he had been wearing before getting naked for the consensual sex in his account, but then - and this is where I spotted his Defence wince - he was shown a photo of his room to confirm that the towel he had been wearing was in shot, and he did so and then pointed at a black tangle of clothing in shot and told us that those were the clothes had had been wearing before the sex, obviously thinking this would support his version, completely forgetting that the photographs had been taken after his arrest when, by his own account, he had been wearing those same clothes. His version of events kept changing depending on what he remembered of the evidence presented at trial and the story he had concocted to create doubt in the jurors' minds.

Most telling for me, and the single realisation that swayed me personally from undecided to a Guilty verdict, was this; his account would have us believe, at the same time, that Irina had consented to sex and was sober, rational, calm and awake enough afterwards to discuss having a shower and allowing him to go first so she could take her time afterwards AND that she had lied in her account about knowing that the second rapist was the man called Valiera because she said she was sobbing and too lost to even run away to have noticed who the second rapist was. Either she was aware enough to have had little likelihood of recognising the second rapist beyond any doubt or she was to disconsolate to notice. Their acknowledgement of her inability to be sure of the second rapist's identity was, to me, certain proof that there would have had to have been a reason for her emotional state that could only reasonably be explained by her account.

It seems so simple now that I've been through the deliberation and have laid out all my ducks in a row like that but the truth of the matter is that it takes hours and hours of analysis and questioning and argument and refutation to get to that point and, for 2 of us at least, even all of that wasn't sufficient to be sure of guilt. It was interesting that one of the two - both men, for whatever that means - changed his mind on seeing the Defendant's reaction to the verdict, and was relieved that we had reached a majority in spite of his dissension. Whether that is a coping mechanism to allow him to live with the thought that a man he found innocent is going to prison, or whether he saw something more than the mere resignation that I observed, is impossible to know, I guess.

I have no basis for comparison yet, but I believe that we were a good jury; I don't think that the Defendant could have received a more fair and hard-earned verdict. Everyone looked hard at the evidence, tried hard to avoid speculation, and steered cleared of personal attacks and bullying to sway the others. It was a fascinating exercise, in itself, to see the different approaches and arguments favoured by different people. It was clear when personal bias was playing a significant role in a decision, or when someone's intuitive arrival at their conviction was irrefutable with logical analysis. It was perhaps expected that, with few exceptions, the jurors who began deliberation with a clear verdict in mind that did not change during deliberation were the older individuals, and that those whose initial preference was to express an unwillingness to state a verdict either way were the young among us. Again, it's easy to cite the intransigence of the elderly, and to forget that they have a wealth of experience that sometimes acts as an efficient bullshit filter, which the rest of us have yet to develop, leaving us with plodding logic to reach the same goal. I'd guess it's a mixture of those two elements that gives rise to the behaviour.

That this has been a draining, exhausting, daunting experience for all of us is beyond question. Without exception, we have all been relieved at avoiding another case this afternoon, so soon after being dismissed from the previous one, and we have all lost sleep or weight or concentration during the course of the trial. I value the knowledge I've gained of the process and of human nature under jury conditions, but I still firmly believe I could have learned it all with any case, and I still wish I'd been spared this particular category. I guess only another crack at it will give me an answer, one way or another. I can say with conviction, though, that I'm happy to wait quite a while for that. Meanwhile, I go back to the jury lounge and hope for a nice long read.

Sentence is being passed on 23rd March, and I will append that when it is available.

They will never take our... oh, wait

Sometimes it better to stop when you're ahead than to keep rolling and risk a natural 00; never so true as when you're Inspiring the troops.

Jury service - Day 5

I'm pretty sure not one of us could have predicted that we'd go into deliberation today and still be at it 7 hours later. After just over 5 hours of discussion (including the hour at the tail end of yesterday's session), we received direction from the judge that a majority verdict of 10-2 would now be acceptable, although we should still try for a unanimous verdict. We couldn't even get to an acceptable majority by the end of the day, though, and are going to have to continue trying on Monday. There is some possibility of getting there, though, so we haven't had to declare a hung jury. Yet. Monday will be the decider, I'm sure.

A rather interesting fact came to light during the morning. We'd had our jury usher changed, and during a break were idly speculating on reasons for the change when one of the jurors piped up to tell us she'd asked for the previous usher to be removed. Out of sheer curiosity, since it wasn't particularly relevant to our deliberations, I asked why, but she refused to explain, as is her right, of course. It wouldn't have been an issue if the new usher were a tenth as efficient as yesterday's, but he's abysmal, and the rest of us can't help feeling a little resentful that we're having to endure his inattention without knowing why. But there you go; jurors can affect a change in the assigned usher. More power to us!

Another glaring flaw in the way the jury is managed lies in the lunch procedure. Because we can't be allowed out into the jury lounge - we would be 'contaminated' in the court parlance - we have to have food brought in. The list of options is insanely meager, though. Four kinds of sandwich, and a selection of crisps and sodas, when the jury canteen serves a cornucopia of hot dishes. What's more, only one out of the 10 of us who elected to order actually got what they'd ordered, the rest having to settle for the sandwiches no sane person willingly eats; egg and cress. Feh. It's seems a little foolish to me to tell a jury that they can take as much time as they need to deliberate and came to a fair verdict when your dis-insentivising them by curtailing their environment so harshly and penalising them for taking longer than a morning to deliberate by withholding a satisfying lunch. If their tactic is to treat us mean and keep us keen, then it's horribly ineffective, because a majority of the jurors have pledged to be more rapid with their verdicts in future to avoid the 'punishment'. I believe it would be more effective to treat the jurors as the indispensable element of the justice system that they're told they are.

Just feed us properly, damn it! Even animals in the zoo get that much!

Jury service - Day 4

And a long day it's been, too. It's been the first day in which we've arrived at the normal start of a court day and left at the very end; in fact, we went over time a little before being dismissed.

It's crunch time. The case has now been heard, the evidence is in, and we've been sent out to deliberate. Our official title right now is the 'overnight jury' (as opposed to the 'sitting jury' while we were hearing the case). There was some concern when the time reached 4.30pm that we would be held until a verdict was reached, but fortunately this is not the case, so I can lie awake anxiously in my own bed tonight. Yay.

The nature of the case is such that there is no guarantee we will reach a verdict tomorrow, but I'm thinking that it's unlikely that we'll be granted a truly unlimited time to decide, in spite of the court's assurances to the contrary, so we will most probably finish with this trial tomorrow in one form or another.

Irrespective of that, I've been stung by a real flaw in the way that the jury's participation in the trial process is handled. It seems that the court officials are so inured to the process that they've forgotten that most jurors will never have been in court before and are, therefore, a little overawed by the environment and less likely to use their right of questioning. Also, as the trial unfolds, although you may have questions as a juror that you want to see answered, you have to assume that the barristers for both parties will address all aspects of the facts of the case in due course, so you hold off on your questions until it can be reasonably assumed that they're not going to be answered as a result of the barristers' examinations. Well, that's what I thought anyway, and so was alarmed and annoyed to be told, once all evidence had been heard, and before the councils were to address us with their closing arguments, that the list of unanswered questions I had was too late to receive answers. The trial was over, and the fact that we'd not yet had closing arguments was irrelevant. This, in spite of the fact that my questions were acknowledged by the judge herself to be pertinent and overlooked; she could do nothing about obtaining answers.

It seems obvious to me that a simple request to the jury to submit in writing any unanswered questions that they had accrued during the evidence of each witness to the judge before each witness is released would go a long way to ensuring that the jury has all the available facts before they begin deliberation. That's exactly what I intend to ask the Criminal Justice System. Their response won't do anything to assist in this case, though, and I feel a little betrayed that I'm now not in an ideal situation to assess guilt in this case as a result of the oversight and will have to live with what may be a less than certain verdict. What's more, the verdict is going to have an enormous impact on the people involved in the case, and they're not getting the best shot at the truth as a result of the oversight. And that's killing me.

This is why I didn't want a case of this nature. I hate being right all the damn time.

Jury service - Day 3

Chaos this morning as I tried to make my way to court. A fire alert on the Central line rendered my route to court unusable, and left me with a succession of busses as my only alternative. Fortunately, anyone coming to court by public means is in the same predicament, so my barely late arrival was matched by almost half the jurors, and probable an equal number of court officials, defendants, witnesses and the like. Nothing like thinking you're going to be fined for contempt of court to crank up the anxiety, though.

We were finally led into court at midday, only to discover that, instead of winding up, the Crown was proceeding to call a further witness. After a break for lunch, we finally heard the Crown close their case, and then a surprise; the Defence called their Defendant. This only happens in about half of all Crown court trials in the UK, as the Defendant is not required to present any defence at all; it is the Crown's responsibilty to make their case. Having the Defence call their Defendant immediately adds days to the trial, as this will open the floodgates to all sorts of character and eye witnesses for the Defence, and all the concommittant cross questing by the Crown. No early result here, I'm afraid.

Jury service - Day 2

It was a full day in court today. We were called into court bang on 10am, and almost lost our lunch break as we ended the morning session late at 1.15pm, on the sufferance of one of the expert witnesses. It is a little known fillip of the judicial process in the Crown courts that any morning session that can't reasonably be stopped for lunch by 1.30pm - due to late running or prior commitments - runs straight on into the afternoon session, and everyone involved just has to hope they don't faint as the day wears on!

Unlike yesterday, when we were simply told to ensure that our mobile phones were turned off, we were asked to hand them in today, and they were locked away in a little wall safe in the jury room. I have no idea why the change in procedure; perhaps the omission yesterday was due to time constraints. Otherwise, it was more of the same as yesterday. My fellow jurors commented on the length of the morning session as we went down to lunch, which puzzled me a little, as we had only been in session for just over 3 hours. Surely that isn't a particularly long period of time to sit still and concentrate? I, for one, found the whole affair too fascinating to notice the time pass.

The afternoon session ran much shorter, as there were prior appointments to be kept by the judge and barristers, and we were happily dismissed at 3.30pm, only having to return tomorrow at 10.30am; a most reasonable hour! The way the trial is going, it looks like we'll probably enter deliberation tomorrow, but how long it then takes us to reach a verdict is anyone's guess. Hopefully I'll have something truly interesting to write this time tomorrow evening.

Note to self: have some breakfast tomorrow. Having the entire court stop and look your way as the rumbling of your - admittedly anxious rather than empty - stomach echoes through the room is less than pleasant.

Jury service - Day 1

I've spent a fair amount of time preparing for my jury service by familiarising myself with court procedure, reading what little I could find about the experience of other jurors and even watching the two recent trial documentaries on TV. So I was completely unsurprised by the sheer amount of waiting involved. I arrived just before 9.15 as instructed, and waited. Around 9.45, they registered all jurors, and explained a little of the administration involved with jury service (expense claims and lunch cards and the such) and we got to watch a brief video detailing some of the forthcoming attractions. Then we waited. And waited. At some point in the morning, one batch of 15 names was called out for a jury selection, and just before lunch, another. That was 30 out of the 100 or so people gathered who actually did anything the entire morning. The rest of us? We waited, of course.

It sounds far more dreary than it actually was, though. There was a choice of waiting area, depending on whether you wanted conversation or quiet - I elected to go where it was cool, which happened to be the quiet room - and there was a canteen for meals or a variety of snacks. Being prepared, I had a selection of books to get through, as well as my DS, and managed to polish off the book I'd started en route to the courts¹ that morning by lunchtime.

Not very long after lunch, there was another round of juror calls, and this time my name was among those called. Fifteen of us were led in, and I was one of the twelve who stayed to decide the case. We were dismissed just after 4 and told to return for 10 tomorrow to continue. Those are hours I could get used to!

Obviously, there'll be nothing here about any of the cases I sit on until the cases are closed, but I can talk about generalities in the interim. It was interesting that we were provided with a pencil and a single A4 sheet of paper on which to take notes. I would seriously have thought we'd get pens and pads. As the building is not purpose-built, the courtroom we're in is fairly small and not at all what you might expect from television drama, but it seems to serve its purpose well enough. We're sat almost directly behind the court stenographer, who is actually in charge of recording the proceedings not by writing or typing anything, but by managing the tape (yes, TAPE) recording of the trial. It was a little distracting to have the flickering light of the sound level indicators flashing away in front of us, I have to say. The seats are a little too far away from the table to take notes comfortably, which didn't seem to bother my fellow jurors unduly, since they weren't taking all that many notes, content to sit back and watch the trial unfold. I, on the other hand, ran out of paper. Probably unnecessary, all that note-taking, but I figure I'd rather have it all down than trust my recollection of testimony. I'll definitely need to ensure I have more than a single sheet for tomorrow's full day.

I never really got to talk to anyone. It seems a little moot to chat to random jurors in advance, but I get the sense from the jurors who've been at court a few days already that once you've been through one trial, the first-name basis will act as an opening for conversation over the next few weeks. How much fun that will be is something else entirely!


¹ Snaresbrook, which we were told is the largest single court complex in Europe, and also the old Royal Wanstead Orphanage, then School

Jury service begins today

I've yet to see whether being away from my desk and having a life - of sorts - increases or decreases the amount of blogging I do. Regardless, I'll be away from instant email access for most of the next two weeks, and if you see nothing here for that duration, you'll know why.

Let the reading commence!

Snip-snip

A thing of much beauty:


Some more beauty, in the same vein:


And the cosmic balance is restored:

I'm in!

I just received confirmation from the Home Office that my application for naturalisation has been accepted, and I will be ceremonially sworn in shortly¹. Result!

¹ 26^th March, in fact.

Gamer motivation

Sometimes you just need that little something to go the extra mile.

On my wall:

Interactive fiction

Although not quite what I was looking for, these text-based multiplayer roleplaying games look pretty interesting. More after I've tried a few.

Tail-end gaming

I'm finding that one of the advantages of coming to a console at the end of its functional life - as I am doing with the PS2 - is that not only are the games all so much cheaper than they would otherwise have been, bought at the time of their release, but they've all been played and reviewed and assessed and scored so thoroughly that I can cherry-pick the best PS2 games of all time in the certain knowledge that nothing better will come along since nothing else is being made.

That's the theory, anyway.

In this vein, I have obtained and played some pretty nifty games since Xmas. God of War caught my eye back when it was first demo'd at E3 2004, and now has the distinction of being one of the very few games that I've played to completion. It was just hard enough to be engaging and challenging without being frustrating. It looked pretty, it responded well, and the story was a little less shallow than action games normally sport. And it has a sequel due in April for which I already have funds earmarked.

Not yet completed, but just as compelling, is Fahrenheit, which initially came to my attention as Indigo Prophecy. It has a unique interface that makes playing the game more like directing and starring in a movie, and has a plot to match. I'm looking forward to tackling it again soon, now that I have God of War out of my blood.

Another vaunted game to come straight from Sony is Ico, progenitor of the equally acclaimed Shadow of the Colossus. I've had the pleasure of playing Shadow, and still want to find the time to finish it, so grabbed the chance to try Ico. Right away, it's got my undying love. The completely unique - to my knowledge - game mechanic of shepherding a helpless, defenceless game character through a strange and challenging temple is not only clever and emotionally captivating, but so cleverly and smoothly integrated that you don't realise how much you've invested yourself in the characters until the first time you fail to protect your charge. I found myself out of my seat crying "Noooo!" and practically scrabbled in my haste to restore to the previous save point in order to get it right. That kind of compulsion is exceedingly rare, in my experience, and justifies my instant attraction to the game. Now excuse me while I feed my need.

Looking forward to (reprised)

Out soon:

• 02/02 Arthur and the Invisibles
  
• 16/02 Hot Fuzz
• 02/03 Ghost Rider

Down the line:

• 30/03 300, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (I kid you not!)
• 13/04 The Invisible, The Reaping
• 04/05 Spiderman 3
• 29/06 Shrek 3
• 13/07 Harry Potter 4
• 21/09 Resident Evil: Extinction
• 30/11 Beowulf
• 14/12 I am Legend (soooo much!)

Apple bloopers

The Get a Mac ads are really silly. And ineffectual, I'm guessing. But they've spawned some wonderful spoofs, so I forgive them. A bit.

Gods, I ache

And it's all the rabbits' fault. I do want a Wii more than ever now, though.

Blockbuster twofer

Given how often we rent DVDs, I really must remember to take advantage of the 2-for-1 that the Oyster provides on DVD and game rental. Come to think of it, so should you!

Shiny song

Sarah Brightman - Anytime, Anywhere

First snow of 2007

I can't say I was completely surprised by the fresh carpet of snow on the ground this morning. There was a very light flurry yesterday morning as I headed off to Upney station, and I had a feeling it heralded greater things yet to come.

These pictures don't do the scene justice. I definitely need to get my act together and start carrying around a camera capable of seeing what I see.

(Inter)National Rum Day

As Zara finishes her exams on Thursday and will be celebrating in York this weekend, she has declared Saturday National Rum Day (not to be confused with National Hot Buttered Rum Day, which is an American tradition and involves way too many calories to be something Zara would be doing) and will be imbibing the magic molasses mix all day accordingly. Since this sounds like a fabulous idea, I will be joining her in spirit(s) here in London, and I invite all to join us, wherever you may be. Let's make National Rum Day a new institution! Spread the word!

Jury service suddenly seems daunting

Particularly relevant to me in light of my approaching jury service, Channel 4 ran a pseudomentary last night - Consent - dramatising the proceedings of a 'typical' UK rape trial:

Innovative recreation of the judicial process, which aims to bring viewers as close as possible to knowing how a real rape trial works. The film begins with a scripted drama, in which an office party ends in a rape claim. The action then shifts to a real courtroom setting, in which real barristers, solicitors and a real judge and jury debate the fictional case.

It struck me that it is quite possible that I might have to sit in the jury box and watch a verdict being delivered that I simply don't agree with. I don't know if I could endure watching someone go to pieces over losing their claim when I think they're in the right. Suddenly the responsibility of the service has struck, and now I find myself hoping that if I am called at all, it'll only be for the most trivial, obvious verdicts. At the same time, I'm chastened by the knowledge that it is pure cowardice that drives the desire. It's all moot, I guess, since the process is ostensibly totally random and I have no way of influencing my exposure either way. So I'll do my avoidance thing and entertain myself with Charles Stross' take on the whole matter instead.

Contrary to expectation

I do so love confounding people's assumptions. On my way home last night, I was sitting across the carriage from a guy playing his music loud enough to be heard clearly. After about 15 minutes of this, I leaned over and tapped him on the knee to get his attention. With that slightly irritated look of the veteran commuter, he unplugged one earphone and asked what I wanted.

"That music you're playing," I began, and immediately a stormy countenance replaced the mildly vexed one. "What is it? It's very good."

Cue confusion and mental backpedalling.

How would you respond?

There was a theme to my interaction with the nursing staff of the King George Hospital today which, I think, illustrates a fundamental problem with the NHS as it currently exists. Here, I'll let the conversations speak for me:

"Morning. I'm here for a 9am ultrasound."
"Do you have a bottle of water with you?"
"?! Um, no. No-one mentioned anything about a bottle of water."
"Never mind. Just follow the signs to the waiting area."

"Morning. I'm here for a 9am ultrasound."
"Have you checked in at the front desk?"
"?! Um, no. No-one mentioned checking in at the front desk. The nurse who sent me here mentioned water, but nothing else."
"Never mind. It's a bit of a hassle, but I'll get you checked in. Just go inside and wait for the doctor."

"Hi again. Thanks for that."
"That's okay. Have you made a follow-up appointment with the specialist?"
"?! Um, no. No-one mentioned I had to make any further appointments."
"Never mind. Just go to the Outpatient desk when you're done here and make an appointment."

Sticks out like a sore thumb on a duck, doesn't it? There seems to be this assumption on the part of the entire NHS that everyone in the machine knows the procedure without having to be told. I guess, in many cases, the patients are so institutionalised by the amount of time they have to spend enduring the process that this may well be true, but I'd still put money on the bulk of us being occasional visitors needing a little assistance.

The icing on this particular medicinal cake came when I reached the Outpatient desk:

"Hm, let me see. Nope, nope, nothing there either, May is solid, nope... I can get you an appointment in July, will that be okay?"

Okay?! What a ridiculous question to ask. I can hardly argue for an earlier appointment if his schedule truly is that full, so I have to assume she was asking if I'd prefer to wait even longer.

"Actually, my diary's jammed solid until April 2008. Can I see him then?"

Gah.

There ya go, Lucky

No more confusion.

Cookie monsters

It's quite astounding just how many cookies try to make their way onto a pc in an average browsing session. I'm not too bothered by the occasional cookie designed to assist me in logging in or saving a selection, but the hordes of advertising trackers and browsing habit loggers can be quite overwhelming. I was particularly bemused, recently, to have Firefox warn me that Barclays wished to install a cookie called useraccesstracking. No prizes for guessing what the cookie is for. Why would I want Barclays to know what my login patterns are? That's right - I don't!

Switching your automatic cookie handling off and manually authorising - or not - each and every cookie that hurls itself at your PC is an exercise I can heartily recommend, even if only for a day, to acquaint yourself with the hidden machinations behind the innocent facade.

Open source swarms

Imagine a host of these micro 'copters hooked up with wireless comms and trained to flock. Fly, my pretties. Fly!

Hm. Where are those fighting robot rules?

M = DV

It's frustrating me that the book I am currently reading is so enjoyable, considering it has been allowed through to publication with glaring clangers which form the basis of the entire plot and, in my opinion, render the whole effort pointless. Here's my favourite :

As the giant cloud receded from the binary stars of Sirius A and B, it cooled in the frozen wastes of interstellar space to minus 270 degrees Celsius. Its molecular structure tightened and drew closer together. The incredible size of the cloud shrank but its mass became all the greater. As its mass increased, so did its velocity; from one-tenth to one-fifth of the speed of light.

What?! Firstly, reducing the volume that a quantity of matter occupies increases its density, not its mass. Secondly, although objects seem to gain relativistic mass when speeds approach that of light (when viewed from a different frame of reference), all of the special relativity equations rely on the invariant mass of an object. Quite a spectacular piece of rubbish, no?

It should be irrelevant that the book was written by a manager, not a scientist, since we all have our hobbies and passions, and cosmology could very well be his. But I can't get over the niggling feeling that a scientist - or, in fact, anyone with a modicum of physical science knowledge at secondary school level - would have avoided that stinker. Failing that, a halfway decent editor versed in the genre should have spotted it. Looking over the publisher's offerings, though, they strike me as a bit of a vanity press which, if true, would explain it. There really should be a disclaimer across the front of their books, though.

There are some other choice ham-handed attempts at camouflaging the writer's apparent ignorance of simple science, like the pole-switching electromagnet perpetual motion machine fib, or the quick glossing-over of a simple geology lesson, that keep sticking in my mental craw. I'm ploughing on regardless, as elements of the story are rather fun, but I fear it's going to be an airport read, in the end.

Metro Marianne

Unless I'm much mistaken, I've been sharing my journey in to work the last few days with one of the finalists of the last Make Me a Supermodel series. It's not too surprising, I guess, considering that the show was based in London, and that it would have provided her with huge exposure to continue working successfully in the UK. I've not been even remotely tempted to annoy her with fanboy requests for attention and autographs - that's the kind of thing I would hate in her position - but smiling a knowing smile to myself serves just as well.

Xmas spin

Contrary to appearances, it's been a remarkably eventful few weeks. Come to think of it, that's not contrary to appearances at all, merely contrary to my rate of journalling.

I've survived hosting a quite literally insane number of lunches/dinners/drinks, not to mention all the events I've had to attend elsewhere. I shouldn't complain, I guess; 'tis the season to overindulge on all fronts so, by all accounts, I've had a successful Xmas. I've been quite spoilt on the gift front too; dvd's, books, clothing, games and scents have showered down, and I've even finally had Sky+ installed, compliments of an unexpected salary bonus.

Fate gives, and she takes away. The Sky+ engineers cunningly severed our NTL broadband cable, and have been recalcitrant in returning to fix the mistake. Also, as if capitalising on my incipient citizenship, a jury summons has arrived for me, and I will be serving Her Majesty in Her courts for at least the first two weeks of February. How Clotho must have been laughing.

But I am still full of the bliss of my first festive week off in 9 years, which ended in a kick-ass Bond party on New Years' Eve, at which I won a Texas Hold 'em poker tournament, and a flying visit to a 50's swing club in Soho for the midnight countdown. Now I just have to hold on to that feeling in the face of the January blues.