It's a leap year!

I don't really have anything to say but couldn't resist the opportunity to post on February 29th. Hmmmm maybe a leap year factoid ... if you're born on February 29th then legally speaking your birthday is 1st March. See, told you I had nothing to say.

Highlight of the week

As part of my irregular series celebrating those that bring joy to my life (see Coffee post) I'd like to take a moment to thank from the bottom of my heart the great and glorious employees of ShortList magazine. I don't know about NY but here we're bombarded with hundreds of free publications while getting on and off the tube. There are no less than four daily newspapers (Metro, London Lite, London Paper, City AM) and many free weekly magazines. ShortList is Thursdays treasure trove of delights and is not only easily the best free magazine in the world, but possibly the best magazine in the world. This weeks highlights include Celebrities' Crazy Spends (Saddam Hussein's palaces at no. 1), Ten Biblical Plagues on the comeback trail, The ten shortest wars and The 10 Weirdest Japanese Inventions. All of it for free, FREE!! Mwah ha ha! I literally look forward to it all week long, but by some curious mental acrobatics then forget on thursday that its being published and practically hug the guy handing it out when I see him. Best of all you can read it online (http://www.shortlist.com/), its not the same but if you choose not to live in London then thats the price you pay.

Free time much?

This is all over the news here today. It not only makes me happy that I live in a country where dog tricks making it into print and electronic news, but also that there is someone in the country who trained their dog to lie on its back and balance beer mats on all four of its paws and then balance yoghurt pots on them. Yoghurt pots! Where do people get these ideas? In the photo in my paper there were spoons in the yoghurt pots on its paws as well.

Palpitations

Saw Cloverfield last night and am happy to say it winged its way straight into my top ten movies of all time. I'd love to say its my favourite but really you can only watch it once ... its the suspense and the fear that make it great and neither would be present on even a second viewing. I'd say about 20 minutes into the film my heart rate hit about 180bpm and din't let up for the rest of the movie. I think I liked it so much because its basically my ultimate fantasy, one minute you're going about your average, boring but not entirely unpleasant day and before you know it you're running for your life from a giant monster. What could be better than that? I've never really understood the fear/horror reaction to those sorts of scenarios, all I can think is LUCKY!

The concept of the LUCKY was the brainchild of Brittany and basically revolves around appreciating the fact that if you were involved in ANY scenario where you might potentially develop super powers/battle a demonic cult/travel through time or similar then what could be better? Surely the greatest thing that could ever happen to you is going on holiday to Rome, landing in the airport and in arrivals some ancient nun starts screaming at you before suddenly dying with blood spurting from her eyes. As she goes down her roasry flies out of her hand and lands at your feet. You bend down, bloodied and shell shocked, pick it up and think LUCKY! You know you're in for the time of your life. You thought you might go crazy and jump in the Trevi fountain, but NOW there's every possibility you'll be battling the forces of satan before the week is out. We decided that the ultimate lucky is the one in Terminator ... someone coming up to you and saying 'I've been sent from the future to protect you' LUCKY! Now, however, I think it might be the scene in Cloverfield where they emerge from the convenience store onto the partially destroyed, flaming street just in time to see a flash of a monster raging in the distance. LUCKY! I'd be so happy. Don't get me wrong I'd be running for JFK while booking flights to Hong Kong over the phone (Brittany also came up with SHINY, SHINY, super-clean shopping malls in HK being the safest pace on the planet and the ultimate antidote to supernatural/slasher shenanigans). Sure, you might die, but at least it won't be in car crash or of heart disease or something equally as mundane.

The LUCKY! Also applies to more minor events - someone screaing into their mobile phone, people walking into lamp posts, people getting hit in the head by flying objects, people yelling at a bus driver ... there's so much great stuff out there. Not only are you lucky enough to get to see it, but you also get to go home and tell people about it.

Global Warming? More like GAY

As nothing happens early in the week I'm going to post about Global Warming. Although its undeniable that the earth is indeed getting hotter I think its lunacy and vanity to think that its caused by people and that we can have any effect on the process. We constantly read about tonnes of carbon dioxide being pumped into the atmosphere, what isn't said is that the atmosphere weighs about 33 trillion tonnes. A trillion is a big incomprehensible number, to put it in perspective if each tonne is a second then a million tonnes is about 11 days, a billion tonnes is about 37 years and 33 trillion tonnes is 33,000 years. so if you fly from London to Kuwait each passenger produces 1 tonne of CO2. Thats the impact of a single second compared to 33,000 years ... basically a single second since the dawn of man, not quite as momentous as we're lead to believe. Thats not even taking into consideration the huge amounts of CO2 that are reabsorbed by the sea and plants.

Even if CO2 is causing the planet to warm there's not much making a compost heap is going to do about it. CO2 only makes up 0.03% of the atmosphere and of that CO2 0.015% is created by man made activities. Of that tiny percentage of atmospheric gasses you have to weigh up the fact that China is building a new coal fired power station at the rate of one every five days against you buying an energy saving light bulb and reusing plastic bags. The only real way to have an impact on carbon emissions would be for everyone to become a vegetarian - animals produce way more CO2 than we do and if we didn't rear them they'd be far fewer of them. Plus more plants means more CO2 absorption. Not eating rice would also be extremely beneficial as paddy fields produce loads of CO2 [as a side bar the Toyota Prius is so complicated to manufacture that its actually more environmentally friendly to drive a 4x4 for your whole life than buy one (not even taking into account driving it around].

Plus its also worth noting that most of the 'proof' for global warming comes from the IPCC, they'd all be out of a job pretty quickly if they said 'the world is getting hotter but its because we're coming out of the last ice age and there's not a lot we can do about it'. Bye-bye funding, bye-bye salary. Its like the Vatican saying 'we've got proof that God exists' and everybody going 'oh why didn't you say so, we believe now'. The whole myth appeals to people's conservatism, fear of change and allows the ignorant to feel righteous. We've elevated a bunch of cranks and weirdos who hate development and fear globalisation and technology to the level of prophets. People are going look back on us in 1000 years and laugh at our anthropocentricity and stupidity.

While I'm on the subject as well ... life on this planet managed to survive a giant meteor strike that blackened the sky and blocked the sun for months on end. I think it might just get through a few degrees temperature rise and the occasional oil spill. Nature doesn't need your help, even if we coated the world in oil slicks and toxic chemicals creatures would simply evolve that thrived on oil and toxic chemicals. The whole idea that the world is this fragile little daisy in need of the protection of some hessian-sack-wearing hippy is lunacy. We live on rock floating on a lake of fire hurtling through a vacuum at thousands of miles an hour, crawling all over it like a virus, living pointless lives full of pain and misery. If anyone needs help its us, not the planet. The sooner people realise that the sooner we can all get out there, hug some strangers, drink some beer, enjoy sunshine and stop to smell the pretty flowers.

I do think its worth conserving the planet's resources, but only because it makes sense and being wasteful is tacky. Doing it because you think you're going to stop London from drowning is moronic and doing it at the expense of the development of the third world is criminal.

Heart Disease

Last night I had steak, foie gras and potato dauphanoise for dinner. Will I ever find anyone who is as good to me as I am to myself? I don't think so. Having said that I am now officially eating Okinawa style and will subsist on a diet made up almost entirely of vegetables, fruit, soy and the occasional serving of oily fish. I ate similar all of yesterday but considering the evening meal I don't think it really counts. Part of the diet means I have to have 13 servings of fruit and vegetables a day. 13! I spent vitually all of yesterday eating fruit, worried I'm going to start to feel more bovine than human.

Oh crap on closer inspection I'm supposed to eat 13 portions of vegetables a day and 2-4 of fruit. Which means I just spent all day eating butt loads of sugar and then half a tonne of fat in the evening.

I love the chopsticks in the noodles JUST SO YOU KNOW ITS ASIAN.

I HATE FRANCE

Went to France on Saturday with Henry and an empty boot ready to receive huge amounts of wine. Was up til 4am the previous night celebrating a birthday and despite my alarm not going off and the amount I'd had to drink I still managed to get up at 7:30. 3 hours sleep and a pre-midday wakeup on a weekend is not a recipe for a day of delight. However, didn't actually turn out to be too bad and although I flagged a bit around 2 when my hangover really started to kick in it was a really fun trip. We were heading to Cite Europe just outside Calais which is a giant mall with about 150 shops in. Due to my less than auspicious condition when I woke up we didn't print any directions on how to get there and assumed that such a large retail venue would be sign posted, especially since at least 90% of the traffic through Calais is looking for similar. However, turns out NOTHING is sign posted in France and we ended up driving round Calais for about an hour (after having driven halfway to Paris) screaming 'I HATE FRANCE' at the tops of our voices and it became our constant refrain for the rest of the day. There was also much discussion of the fact that as we were now on the continent we should be using the horn constantly, which didn't actually happen til I got back to London and had to alert drunk people to the fact that they were standing in the middle of the road. Its worth noting we'd only been in France for 45 minutes before seeing 2 people drive straight through red lights and one guy ride his motorbike down the wrong side of the road swerving round the oncoming traffic.

Although this was the worst planned trip of all time (neither of us even knew what the exchange rate was) it was really successful with many purchases including 36 bottles of champagne, 3 litres of fish soup, 10 croissants, and enough veal, foie gras and horse meat to have my British passport revoked. Had a lovely lunch of fish soup and beef bourgenion at a weird German themed pub in a Las Vegas (on a budget) style fake village at the back of the mall. We were both extremely happy to be back on British soil and would've sang Jerusalem as we disembarked the ferry if there was even a vague possibility it could've been heard over Girls Aloud. My signature driving moves of no lights at night and driving with the handbrake on were out in full force. I blame the hangover (and the French). It was nice doing something one on one with Henry as its been a while since its been just us without his boyfriend and we'll definitely be doing it again. Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the trip was the complete lack of any hot french men. Maybe we're spoiled living in London but there literally wasn't a single guy worthy of even a second glance, then again I guess its not hard to imagine the French saying the same about Dover!

Shit Awards

Brit awards last night, dreadful as ever. Sharon Osbourne seems to have crossed the invisible plastic surgery boundary from looking well maintained to looking like Joan Rivers. She was the perfect screeching harridan to host the event (the other family were there too, but they didn't do much). It was like having the Brit's hosted by one of your friend's mums that no one likes but she thinks everyone likes her and she's down with the kids because she screams a lot. Mika opened with his dreadful caterwauling and jerky flailings entirely ruining the fantastic Beth Ditto's all too brief cameo. The Klaxons ruined Rhianna, Wino ruined Mark Ronson. The lead singer of the Kaiser Chiefs was looking quite fit and the set was great, shame about the TERRIBLE song ... which sounds even worse live than it does recorded. Worst parts of the evening had to have been Amy Winehouse and Paul McCartney.

Wino missed her cue in the first song like a bad karaoke singer and although clawed it back then sang like she had a deadly combination of tourettes and epilepsy. The woman cannot dance: she looks like a particularly skinny granny having a good 'ol fashion knees up. Someone needs to tell her as well that she is a singer and it would be nice if she actually sang, rather than burping and covulsing her way through every vocal performance like its impossible for her to sustain a note beyond .1 of a second. I'm beginning to think she can't actually sing and Mark Ronson has used mad scientist recording technology to make it sound like she can on her album. I'm sick of watching her trying so PAINFULLY hard to be nonchalant and hip. Ugh.

McCartney was the worst though. Give him a lifetime achievement award, fine. Strap him to a wheelchair and just roll him straight across the stage dropping the award into his lap as he wheels passed the podium. Why anybody wants to see grandad play the piano is beyond me. Maybe next year Sting will perform with his lute. Plus surely to receive a lifetime achievement award you actually need a lifetime of achievement, not just a period 50 years ago when people thought you were quite good. The Beatles have to be the most overrated band of all time, not because they weren't good, but because no one deserves the outrageous amount of attention and sycophancy that is heaped upon them on a daily basis.

As for who won the awards, who cares? Can you remember who won last year? The nominations for Best British Male featured three people I'd never heard of before. 3/5 nice.

Jackie Collins tells no lies

Had an interesting chat over the weekend with a friend of mine who works for a MAJOR fashion label. Seems the head of communications was visiting the London office. Apparently this woman is the most senior person in the company who sets foot inside the London office. Anyway, she told my friend's boss to 'fire the fat girl'! Apparently the girl is competant at her job but definitely carries excess weight (celebrity wise we're talking Jennifer Hudson). She's on a temp contract there, but applied for a permanent position that came up. That isn't going to happen. Who knew that sort of thing actually happened? Before you start hating on the head of communications the boss consistently referred to fatty mcfat fat as 'that girl you know *puffs her cheeks out and blows a small raspberry*'. Ah fashion.

Further to this story another friend of mine worked at a finance company in the city for a guy who was by all intents and purposes the sleaziest man on the planet - hands everywhere, coke in the bathroom, that sort of thing. The inevitable happened and the receptionist threatened to sue him for sexual harrassment after a particularly full on encounter. Instead of being contrite the guy offered to buy her fake boobs to keep her quiet. She accepted.

Mohammed Speaks

In his evidence the phoney pharoah branded Prince Philip a "Nazi" and a "racist" and said: "It's time to send him back to Germany from where he comes." Clever that, using the archetypal racist request against a racist. "You want to know his original name - it ends with Frankenstein," he added.

Brilliant.

A fellow madman

Highlight of the week is going to be Mohammed 'Al'-Fayed's testimony at the Diana inquest. He's said he needs the opportunity to say what he 'feels' happened. Best thing about saying what you feel is that you don't need a shred of evidence nor sanity to do so. He better call Prince Phillip a racist giant lizard or I'm going to be very disappointed.

I love that he thinks he can't get British citizenship because of some conspiracy against him and not just because he's a morally bankcrupt crook whose entire business and fortune is founded on theft and deceit. He's not all bad though, he did commission this BEAUTIFUL statue of Diana and Dodi releasing a .... seagull? Albatross? and since he's going to die before me there's every possibility that one day it'll come up for sale and I can buy it.

Hole Foods

Visited the apotheosis of food shops on Saturday: the Whole Foods on High Street Kensington. Despite the fact that its been open for ages it hadn't really occured to me to go until last week. It occupies three floors of the Barkers Building and I was excited by descriptions of giant salad bars, a cheese room and a huge meat counter (not that I'd buy any, but its still fun to look) as decribed by Henry. Went in and was initially somewhat overwhelmed by the shinyness and variety of it all and for about 5 minutes was a kid in a sweet shop. Decided I needed to get a cup of coffee so went to the cafe upstairs. Waited in the queue for 10 minutes and not a single person in the line in front of me got a cup in that time so I left. It was OK though because you could 'sample' coffee in the basement, I stood at the coffee bar knocking back shots like I was on a bender.


The more I walked round the shop the more uncomfortable it made me. Whole Foods in the States are just very upscale supermarkets, whereas here they've gone for more of a Food Hall feel. Draws attention to the fact that you're paying over the odds to support their branding and polish. I think it's fair enough and entirely their prerogative to charge the earth for freshly made seafood skewers/salads/imported meat etc that are unique but it pisses me off no end when they sell something avaliable widely but at an inflated cost. After a half hour of wandering round watching all the Jocastas and Mungos shoveling free bits of cheese and bread into their horsey mouths, while forking out £8 for crab meat I started to feel a bit grossed out by the conspicuous consumption and left without buying anything. As a shop its entirely representative of everything food shouldn't be.

Art for art's sake

On Friday night I went to see Brian Sewell give a lecture, for those not much acquainted this is the man:



The man is a legend, he'd be a national treasure if people didn't hate him so much, he actually IS a national treasure and after he's dead should be gilded and put on Tate Modern as a terrifying gargoyle to scare away the gawping yokles who go there. He's basically the reason I didn't pursue art as a career, I was tentatively thinking that most modern art was a load of rubbish and much like contemporary classical music had lost its way sometime in the 60s and failed to create much of anything that had any meaning to anyone. It wasn't til I heard Brian saying much the same thing with waspish conviction that I had the confidence to think 'it IS a load of shit'. Having said that he put me off a career in art, he also simultaneously makes me feel guilty that I don't know more about it and is living proof of the pleasure and insight that can be found in great art. So I'm all fired up and wanting to study art again. Maybe I'll order some books today. The greatest thing about Brian (apart from everything else) is his voice and thanks to the magic of the internet you can hear it: http://www.briansewell.co.uk/brian-sewell-written-word/brian-sewell-soundboards.html

Fattest Day of the Year (Part 3)

Seems February 12th is officially the fattest day of the year - the horror of the breakfast muffin has brought me back to my senses and I'm once again back to being a pseudo vegan (99% of the meals I eat are vegan, but I could never give up meat forever). One addition to my diet this week has been the brussel sprout curry ... over and above having the diet of a vegan, I have the diet of a pregnant woman ... and all I can say is don't knock it til you've tried it. Ginger, garlic, chilli, onion and lemongrass for the paste, add coconut milk then chuck in halved brussel sprouts that have been cooked for exactly one minute. Heaven.

As my knee is almost entirely recovered from surgery as well I'll hopefully be back on my bike and cycling to work next week. Can't wait, I miss my daily fix of cycling passed the houses of Parliament. Might even be able to do yoga again, but the downward dog puts huge pressure on my knee right where it hurts so maybe I should hold off a bit longer.

Poor London

It's been announced that the Architecture Foundation can no longer afford to build Zaha Hadid's design for their new headquarters. Since their role is to 'promote and encourage the best in contemporary architecture, and bringing it to a wide public' I can only imagine that they're not happy about it. But not as unhappy as I am. Zaha is certainly the world's greatest living architect and possibly the greatest ever (apart from Louis Khan, but I don't think he really counts since it was more than likely he wasn't human, but in fact an angel) and the failure to build any of her designs is a great loss to the world at large. So this is the closest we're ever going to get to it:





Sad. Saddest of all it means that England is still without a single building designed by her. I think we shoud all stop what we're doing now, get down to the foundation and give them a hand. We could get it done by the end of the day if 57 million people help. While I'm on the subject, whoever was in charge of the Cardiff Opera house should be ashamed of themselves, ASAHMED. We could have had this:





Bit instead have this clumsy, hulking, eyesore:



An homage to tasteless comtemporary design with not an ounce of tension, excitement, beauty or merit. We could have had art, but instead we've got Jack Vettriano.

The sweet smell of success

Going through a period of intense jealousy at the moment. While I have the privilege of attending the world's worst job interview for a job a monkey could do, my friends all seem to be reaching the point in their careers where they go from merely having a job to making it big time. From the Devil Wears Prada job and assistant to the editor of Vanity Fair, to $100,000 contracts and prestigious MBA programs. Everyone around me is being garlanded and praised and I'm most likely to be rejected for a job I didn't need to go to law school to do. This was made particularly piquant last night by seeing Leander.

I went to prep school with Leander and he was my best friend from about 8-13. Very much lost contact at secondary school and then had two encounters during university years. We've become reacquainted purely by accident - we bumped into each other on the street around Waterloo station a couple of years ago, very strange. We've met up a couple of times since and on each occasion I'm reminded of just why we were such good friends and make endless promises to myself to see him more and integrate him into my life. But, as these things go, life gets in the way and the months stretch between visits. Perhaps this last meeting will be the start of a more frequent interaction. Got to love having a friend you've known for 20 years ... although there were a lot of gaps in those years, so does it count?

Leander has devastated the competition of achievement by having a book published (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hazels-Phantasmagoria-Leander-Deeny/dp/1847244238/ref=pd_bbs_sr_3?ie=UTF8&s=gateway&qid=1202914910&sr=8-3)

something which I've always wanted to do. Furthermore he has his first book signing in Harrods, is currently working on his second novel and may have the first made into a film. Its hard not to be angry. He's also acted at the Globe. And he's in Atonement.

I would like to be happy for other people, but I don't think I've really got it in me and instead just content myself with the thought that one day my immeasuarble revervoirs of resentment and misery will be dammed up by an unyielding wall of cash, tended by diamond encrusted beavers.

Hot, shirtless, diamond-encrusted beavers.

Grrrrrrr

Arcadia

Despite not having any plans for the next 20 or so years of my life, my plans for my retirement are extensive, detailed and constantly reviewed. As of last night they have been enriched. I've always seen myself living on the side of a mountain somewhere, usually Bhutan, sometimes Canada/New Zealand. I'm leaning more towards a Canadian idyll as I like my creature comforts and they'd certainly be easier to come across in Canada. Although the scenery in Bhutan is out of control. Hmmm, anyway, plenty of time to make a decision. As long as I have access to snow and sunshine simultaneously I'll be happy. The house I live in varies wildly between a modest shack, a modernist villa and all the permutations in between. Apart from a housekeeper I always picture me living there by myself as well ... what does that mean? The inside of the house will be pretty much coated in dead animals and be focused around a roaring fire and projected television (onto a white wall, tv's/projector screens are so ugly). I pretty much see my average day consisting of smoking pot, watching TV, doing yoga and gardening.

Although I hate gardening now (too impatient) I've come to realise, based on every person I know over the age of 50, that one day I'm going to think its just about the most interesting thing on the planet. Alongside growing a boat load of vegetables I also envisage a greenhouse full of pot (inevitably) and a dank corner for growing mushrooms. Last night I was watching 'Around the World in 80 Gardens' and have had the revelation that spices are grown in gardens. A spice garden! Thus my future dreams now include a tropical greenhouse of spices and possibly even coffee. The fact that I am now sitting in my office in London, when I could be on a mountain somehwere wrapped in fur, eating vegetable curry, smoking a doob, drinking coffee and watching Argentinian Big Brother brings tears to my eyes.



Much better than Florida

Coffee

As the week drags on and anything fails to materialise by way of distraction I thought I'd celebrate what gives me joy on a daily basis. Today's celebration will be for the 900 cups of coffee I drink everyday and the people that make it possible. First acknowledgement has to go to the wonderful people at Monmouth Coffee (http://www.monmouthcoffee.co.uk/) for importing what have to be the best beans in London (from Borough market, obviously). Snaps also to Cooperative Quebradon for growing the richest, spiciest coffee I've ever tasted that works well either as a short intense espresso or as a giant starbucks size bucket of coffee. The cooperative’s 40 members produce yucca, maize, plantain and livestock. The association’s objectives are to continue improving the quality of its coffee, raise the standard of living of its members and invest in their children’s future. Since its not possible to raise the quality of its coffee any further it must mean they dedicate all their time and money to enriching their lives, which is nice.

Second mention must go to my aunt and uncle who got me a cup/cafetiere for christmas. Despite the fact that it only costs about £5 and was bought without much consideration as to whether I'd want it (they got my brother one too and he doesn't drink coffee) they struck present GOLD! I was so excited to get it (definitely TOO excited, they looked a bit taken aback by my reaction) and I'm still excited to use it. Here's a pitcure:

Hopefully its use is self-explanatory. The combination of this magical cup (http://www.smartcafe.co.uk/) and the tap in our kitchen that dispenses boiling water I can have a cup of fresh colombian coffee as quickly and as easily as instant. In fact the only way life could get any better is if I could team the coffee with a joint. Or some ice cream - two scoops of good vanilla ice cream with a hot espresso poured on top is as good as life gets. OOOH ice cream, coffee AND joint. There we are, thats nirvana.

Breakfast of Kings

I've got a new addiction and its the Full English Breakfast Muffin at Eat. I have two states of being: a parsimonious, healthy, dietary, monk-like, teetotal, drug-free angel and if I'm not making the effort then I slide immediately to the opposite end of the scale, no middle ground. So despite the fact that every single breakfast I had in January was muesli with either soya milk or low fat yoghurt, virtually every breakfast in February has either been the saturated fat saturated products of the worlds most commercial clown, or the Eat Breakfast Muffin.

In my defence it is cold and miserable and what would you opt for after riding on a crowded train and then an equally crowded tube? Could you really stand in a shop and think 'mmmm low fat yoghurt and muesli' when you could have a freshly toasted delicious muffin with sausage, egg, bacon and ketchup? COULD YOU? I hope not. In an bid to end the cycle of abuse I looked it up online today to check out the nutritional information (which is obviously not avaliable in the shop). It may have done the trick:

ENERGY VALUES (kcal) per pack 759
FAT (g) per pack 30.4
OF WHICH SATURATES (g) 12.4
SODIUM (mg) 1700

Mmmmmmmmmmm, artery clogging. Plus there's a lot of ketchup (sugar) on top of that. Also if you have that much red meat and grease for breakfast you need something to cut through it all so there's a can of fat coke on top (extra 100 kcal). Should be pretty obvious that the title of this post refers exclusively to Henry VIII, Elvis and Taufa'ahau Tupou (until his recent death the world's heaviest monarch at 440llbs). It's only a matter of time before Channel 4 makes a documentary about me: 'I haven't been able to leave the house in three years' 'The man who turned into bacon' '500lbs and 500 hours to live', something like that.

Ministry of silly questions

I've just been interviewed by one of London's leading law firms (who shall remain nameless on the off chance they employ me) and I can't help but be struck by the lunacy of the interview process. In the same way that IQ tests are only good for revealing which people are good at IQ tests it seems that interviews are only got at establishing who is good at interviews. I don't know if its because all my friends are pseudo-junkies and wannabe alcoholics but I've yet to make the aquaintance of somebody who has a great story about a time they had to work as team and deal with someone difficult, or the time they had to work as a team and change somebody's mind, or that one occasion where they had to work as a team and tell someone off. Its nonsense! Surely people doing interviews know that everyone just makes up those stories? What is the interview trying to establish? Who's the best story-teller? I'm a lawyer, if they want me to do a legal job then why don't they get me to do some legal work. I was there for three hours, surely a demonstration of my abilities would be more appropriate and perfectly possible within the avaliable time.

Working in HR must be the most depressing job on the planet. Asking someone a load of nonsensical questions just so you can hear the fairytale they've created. They know it's a lie, you know it's a lie - for whom exactly is this interview being conducted? Even the interviewer (one of several) couldn't hide his contempt. We'd talk about something and have a lively discussion and then he'd glaze over and read out 'name a time when blah blah blah' and mechanically write down the answer. Plus the job isn't that difficult. I'm not applying to be Secretary General of the UN. I will essentially be collating documents and using a phone. In spite of this I've had a written test and two hours of interviews with three different people. Appropriate questions would be 'Can you work a photocopier?' 'Can you make decent coffee?' 'Are you going to get hammered every Sunday night and call in sick for work on Monday?' not 'If you got a job here how would you raise your reputation for competance?' WHAT? Ummmm I'd make sure not to throw up at my desk when I was hungover and blame all my mistakes on other people.

Interviews favour the sniveling and the ignorant. People of minor intellect who work themselves to death to get to the middle of the pile. It will never be acceptable at a job interview to say 'I didn't go to a single one of my classes cause I was too drunk, but I did get 100% on the exam' so I'm never going to get a job. Mmmmmm free time.

Up the market

This is to be a quick celebration of the highlight of the week - Carribean curry at Up market on Brick Lane. Bless that woman for coming every week and serving the tastiest, spiciest food to be had in London. Today was definitely not happy families day and as usual you could cut the tension behind the counter with a knife. What would a visit to the Carribean stand be without the smiling mother/sullen daughter combo? A lot less rich thats for sure.

My plans for the day do not extend much further than my next meal. I have an overwhelming urge to buy an Xbox 360.

Worst defence of the day

The Archbishop of Canterbury has attracted widespread criticism after appearing to back the adoption of some aspects of Sharia law in the UK. Dr Rowan Williams said the UK had to "face up to the fact" some citizens did not relate to the UK legal system. I don't think you need me to point out how unworkable/loony that is.

Bishop of Hulme, the Rt Rev Stephen Lowe, criticised the "disgraceful" way in which the archbishop had been "ridiculed" and "lampooned" by some. Now here's the back handed compliment: "We have probably one of the greatest and the brightest archbishops of Canterbury we have had for many a long day," he said. No argument there.

Part of my world domination plan involves having Lambeth Palace as my house, this is currently occupied by Dr. Rowan Williams. I thought I was going to have to work hard to bring down the Church of England to take over the place. Seems I've at least got Mr Lowe on my side.


Lambeth Palace is the collection of about six buildings in the foreground, nice view.

From the river:

Dickens described Lambeth Palace as 'quaint' which just goes to prove what an inarticulate hack he was.

Fattest day of the year (part 2)

The fattest day of the year has not yet found its niche and much in the way of easter may have to become a floating holiday, the exact date of which is only known to mystics with sextants able to interpret interplanetary alignments. This is entirely due to a visit to Borough Market, a place of such epicurian delight that I once won a serious, heated argument about how london was the best place on the planet (which it is) simply by saying 'Borough Market'. The argument wasn't conceded in a 'haha! good point, well made' sort of way, but in a 'I concede, take my colours and my soul and may the lord forgive my slattern's mouth' sort of a way. Its that good. Borough market is to markets what Meryl Streep is to acting.

I picked up some orange-yolk eggs and parmesan straight from Italy so I can make some killer carbonara. Plus I got a slice of chocolate tart which I just ate the nose off ... bitter as Jim Carey at the Oscars, creamy as Julianne Moore's skin (I'm sticking with the hollywood similes). While there I ate a Swiss grilled cheese sandwhich which has leeks and garlic and 8lbs of cheese AND haddock and chips, lots of tartare sauce. All topped off with the world's finest beverage: a glass bottle of coke. All in all a reasonably restrained visit but none of it commensurate with health.

I just realised I didn't get pancetta. No point in having parmesan from Italy if the pancetta is from Tesco. A return to Borough may be in order tomorrow - clearly the planets are not yet aligned correctly for soya milk and muesli.

Meus alarmus non-functionatates est

I was half an hour late thanks to my new alarm clock (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Philips-HF3461-Wake-Up-Light-Alarm/dp/B000VI7K2C/ref=pd_bbs_1?ie=UTF8&s=gateway&qid=1202464477&sr=8-1) turns out light isn't really enough to wake me up. Although I definitely think this is a case of a bad workman blaming his tools. I expected that I could go from the 45 minute struggle against indolence and death, while my phone beeped seemingly from another dimension, that was my morning routine to being gently licked awake by squirrels and George Clooney. After the half hour 'sunrise' I chose the sound of gently twittering birds to wake me up which had the unexpected effect of lulling me back to sleep. Monday I'll have to use the most intense light setting (today was 16/20 ... some apparently photophobic reviewer on amazon says she only needs to have hers on six) and have the beeping noise on its highest setting as the last redoubt.

I'm still expecting a vast improvement in my quality of life

Things that have annoyed me in the news today

Firstly the woman who got imprisoned in Saudi Arabia. She is a guest in their country and reaping the benefits of high wages and dirt cheap cost of living that come with residing there. There is no way on earth she wouldn't have known that public contact between unmarried men and women is strictly prohibited and yet chose to deliberately flout the law. This is in a country where 10,000 people are employed to enforce the strict 'moral' code. What was she thinking? To then go on and describe people enforcing the law against those who break it as 'terrorists' is stereotyping verging on racism. If she doesn't like it then she shouldn't be living there propping up the economy of one of the world's most oppressive and medieaval regimes. I'm glad she's decided to stay as I will be petitioning the Mutaween, demanding she is rearrested and flogged.

Secondly the Australian abhorrence of Japanese whaling. The Japanese do not care about whales. They do not think they are special and magical creatures. They never will. They're far too busy buying used ladies underwear out of vending machines and miniaturising stuff. Stop making such a fuss. At the last count there were 761,000 minke whales (in the southern hemisphere alone). I think we can stand to loose a few, especially if its at the expense of the good relations of two of the regions largest powers.

The fattest day of the year

Very slow work day today, rather than reading people's blogs I thought time would better be spent writing one instead. Although I don't have a lot of work to do, what I am doing is pivotal in the running of the country so I at least have the solace of that. I'm writing a document that is going to be sent to every post office in the land and ensure the smoother running of our national economoy. Its about the Power of Attorney requirements for the different Channel Islands. So if anyone on Sark ever grants you Power of Attorney over their life and you have to prove that that is the case in a post office anywhere on this fair isle and the wizened crone behind the counter has a knowing glint in her eye because she can see the papers have been correctly executed before a notary public or the Seneschal (not a made up word, I promise) then you have me to thank. I don't know why I get paid when my work so closely resembles charitable giving.

Today at lunch I was walking round eating my 'Award winning' Pret Avacado/salad wrap (what award it won I don't know - shittest sandwhich for under £3? Entirely tasteless and the filling (mostly cucumber) falls out the end) and noticed that once again an office near mine was holding yet another meeting. This place has meeting rooms in the basement and so on a daily basis I can look into them and see what is going on. EVERY single time I walk passed at least one of the meeting rooms is being used. Nightmare meeting scenario as well ... media types in overly styled glasses, with their sleeves rolled up, hunching severely towards an unintelligable flip chart ... the sort of meetings where a lot of showing off and no work happens. Finally today I decided that as this was clearly the worlds most inefficient company and no matter where my career lead me I would be well equipped to know what this outift was and avoid it at all costs. So I went into reception and had a look today. Its a conference centre.

I've officially declared this the fattest day of the year as my post-operative sloth comes to an end tomorrow. It was going to be today but as Hen, Ames and I are going to Hot stuff tonight (http://www.london-eating.co.uk/2343.htm) it would be an excercise in futility. Plus Raj would be very disappointed if we didn't at least try to empty the kitchen - it certainly wouldn't be worth him having to tolerate the lewd, drunken shouting that is the hallmark of our every visit. Back to pseudo-veganism tomorrow and hopefully a return to excercise will swiftly follow.