caldrail

Van Halen? Oh yes.... I remember them... Van Halen have a warm glow about them - they were the quintessential party band - but who remembers them? Hendrix gets played at every exuse regardless of any asociation with corrupt politics. The problem with Van Halemn is that they weren't controversial enough to make any lasting impact. Sure they had a wild time and probably now suffer for it - Didn't I hear the original line-up was back together again? - but their glory days are gone and like many other bands they're plugging away on a lower level for those who want 80's memoribilia. Does that sound cruel? Show business is - witness the recent demise of Whitney Houston or the the relative obscurity of Caldrail - to name a few. I think if one of Van Halen had died in a horrific and bizarre accident then they'd still be a household name. Nothing preserves immortality like death. But then the original line up of Balck Sabbath is back together and let's be honest, it isn't Ozzy's singing we remember him for.

We know there were female actors - one is associated with Pompeii in its final days. Also Theodora who had to give up acting when she married the emperor Justinian. Women usually appeared in mime sequences, often short in character, which did not use masks thus women had to appear for female roles. Although I don't have any direct evidence the nature of roman theatre, often consisting of short inprovissed farces on domestic life, does lend itself to the addition of female players. As for the older greek and etruscan influenced styles, that might be different.

Fifty is a strange age. Part of me knows full well I'm not young any more, that I ought to change my ways and act my age, while at the same time I simply cannot help being the veteran rebellious teenager I always was. Take yesterday for example. I approached the pedestrian crossing minding my own business and as if pheromones were setting off air raid sirens, I couldn't help noticing the twenty year old brunette across the road. I've no idea what sort of person she was but physically she was just about my perfect ten. She knew I was looking - young ladies seem to sense that instinctively - and she avoided eye contact in that sort of impatient desire to leave the area immediately. Being the gentleman I am I then stopped staring at her. In a way being fifty saved me from embarrasment. At a younger age a certain part of my anatomy would not have remained under control. Having averted my gaze I then noticed her mother - and she wasn't bad either. Then it struck me that I was at an age when strictly speaking my options were as wide as they could possibly be. What a tragedy then that I lack that all important pheromone - money. Or given that I'm fifty, unmarried, and fashionably shabby, that sweet smell of successful conformity. But they both had their eyes on me instead of the traffic when the gap presented itself. Possibly in fear I was going to approach them, who knows?. Nevertheless I like to be optimistic and hope I'll be in their dreams tonight. Hey, it's the first step, right? Sadly my dreams were later shattered by two young ladies at the surgery who clearly didn't see me as a sex object at all. Might need to ask the nurse if she's got something to heal my injured male pride. No, wait, that came out all wrong.... Dammit, this fifty years of age is as bad as being a teenager all over again. Reward Of The Week "Have you got a sticker?" The grandmother of an energetic four year old boy asked the receptionist at the surgery as I waited in the queue, "He's just been treated by the doctor and he's been very brave." I made a lame joke about him earning a medal. The receptionist didn't have any I've Been A Brave Boy stickers so she told him to make sure his granny rewarded him with sweeties or some other shameless means of ensuring good behaviour. I think I might of made a lame joke about that too. As gigs go, I wasn't getting through to my audience. Anyway my turn came and I handed over the paperwork. The receptionist came back with a sly grin and asked me "Do you want a sticker too?" Ha ha ha ha. I like you, you're funny. Suddenly everyone's a comedian.

Tis the season for tree surgeons. The groundsmen at the park around the corner from where I live are still burning foliage. It's a wonder there's any left. That far side of the lake might be tidier but come summer it will look bare and artificial if they manage to keep the nettles and thorns back. Last night I took a look out the back of the home and saw that old elm tree at the other end of the alleyway was missing some foliage too. The entire left side of the tree was denuded of branches. This morning it had gone completely. Along the main road out front the greedy rasp of chainsaws were at work, stripping the tree nearest the house and... Hallo, what's going on here?... Trees behind the fence on the old college site are vanishing. No... It can't be happening... Surely the old college is here to stay, bats, vagrants, and security guards alike? Nope. Passing a newsagent this morning the word is out that the Old College is coming down. Okay, it might be a dishevelled eyesore, but truthfully I'm going to miss the old place. Serenading The Ladies Don't you just hate Valentines Night? If you go down to the pub tonight You better had open your eyes If you go down to the clubs to dance Prepare all your chat-up lines For every bloke that hasn't a girl Will be on the the town to give it a whirl 'Cos tonight's the night that single men try to find one Was that you a couple of nights ago? If so, might I suggest that yellling your heads off on a quiet moonlit street at three o'clock in the morning is not going to attract a female? Take a tip - Read some Shakespeare. Bumps In The Night With all the knocks and bangs I can expect during demolition of the site almost next door, I seem to be getting some practice. One of my neighbours has gotten into the habit of bumping around in the small hours, closing doors with a hard clonk that walls and floorboards cannot obscure. Not only am I getting tired of it, so is another of my neighbours. So after the one finishes for the night, the other starts sliding heavy wooden abjects around. Sleep? Pfah! I laugh at those weak willed people who need a dose of shut eye to bump zzzzzzzzzz.... zzzzzzzzzzzz..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzz....

There's only so many times I can comment on world affairs before I start saying the same old things. That kind of sums up the world pretty neatly in my view. Hearing the news that syrian troops have attacked civilians, greek demonstrators have attacked anything, or a british MP has attacked another for not being able to change things for the better, does not really suprise me any more. Well it wouldn't would it? So as I prepared to type out a blog entry last night I did think that I would struggle. In fact, I couldn't think of anything worth mentioning at all. Eventually I gave up up and went to bed. Then, as I slumbered in the small hours of this morning, my neighbour came to the rescue with a thoughtful and timely crescendo of banging doors. Cheers mate. Needed that. Sausages Job sites are fun things aren't they? Lists of wonderful vacancies paying lots of money if only you had the right skills, experience, and bits of paper to wave at the very fussy employer. I must admit I'm getting very tired of the job application ritual. If one more employer asks me why I want to work for his company, I swear I really will tell him the horrible gritty truth. But first I need to find that fantastic opportunity. There's a website I use quite a lot now, purely because they feature more vacancies than the others, and every week I trawl through the vacancies in a valiant effort to find one that doesn't require thirty years of experience in the field of sausage making, or Higher National Degrees in Tubular Sausagemeat Containment. You know what I mean. Today, just to make life intersting, the website decided not to process my applications. Every time I clicked on 'apply' the page merely refreshed itself. Oh sausages....

Greece has gone horribly wrong. One expert interviewed on television predicted that Greece was doomed. I must admit, as a casual observer, you do get a sense that Greece is sitting there waiting for the final catastrophic collapse. Not even the barbarian hordes of english holidaymakers seem to be making any difference. Increasingly it looks as if the EU want to dump it by the roadside. So what exactly do you do with a bankrupt country? Oh yes. I remember now... Cue UN food relief and huge pop superstar events to raise money to feed starving greeks.This empire building stuff isn't always so easy is it? Still Healthy Here in Blighty we like to complain about our health service. That's a little unfair because politicians haven't quite finished constructing it yet. Worse still they also have to deal with ever increasing demands of the sick and injured public who seem hellbent on injuring and infecting each other. There used to be a time when a doctor would call, pronounce the person dead on arrival, and receive the thanks of the poverty stricken family whose loved one did not respond to a jar full of leeches. Not any more. Thing is our readiness to whinge has made us forget all those horror stories of big bills for treatment offered in American hospitals. That's if you can afford a doctor who won't accidentially poison you of course. Now I find that hospitals in Los Angeles have closed for business all over the place. One site only stays open as a film lot. That means the fire service are providing emergency medical services instead of simply putting fires out. That's if they can find anywhere to send their slightly singed patients. This news did of course emerge from the sages at Russia Today who take great delight in documentaries showing the collapse of western civilisation. Old habits die hard I guess. Therefore I take pride in announcing that our NHS is safe and secure. I know this because RT haven't even noticed it exists yet. Recipe Of The Week Most of our favourite foods are imports. A wander along the fast food outlets reveals american style burgers and dismembered chickens. Big lumps of dead turkish kebab slowly roasting on a spit. The heady scent of anonymous meat cooking in exotic asian sauces that all taste more or less the same. The impossible task of choosing which permutation if rice is best for you from a chinese takeaway. Compared to that british cuisine does seem to lack a certain something. Images of cloth caps and smog ridden industrial slums quickly come to mind and compared to the arcane morsels offered by televisions chefs, it's always stodgy and unpalatable. Food for factory workers in other words.. No wonder so many british factories have closed. So, with no further ado, let me present No3 in my series of fave rave recipes. Peanut Butter Mushrooms On Toast. Fry chopped mushrooms with a little added soy sauce. Make two slices of toast. Spread peanut butter on the toast. If the peanut butter is a little dry, remember to add a touch of olive oil to lubricate it. Spread the fried mushrooms on the toast and serve. Enjoy, which I'm sure you will unless you're an allergy sufferer or use mushrooms normally considered the preserve of witches, assassins, and idiots. Supermarket mushrooms are probably safest but cost a little more than a stroll to the local wood.. Mushrooms obtained from dubious looking youths on street corners wil probably result in stange dreams, handcuffs, and stern lectures from important people. So don't blame me when it all goes horribly wrong.

Swindon is suspiciously white this morning. Even winter-safe wiltshire has finally succumbed to snow. It started last night and quickly reduced wiltshire to the usual scene of british ineptitude of dealing with slippery conditions. I watched a van attempting to ascend the steep side street behind my home. Even with a guy shovelling ice from under the wheels they made painfully slow progress toward the company yard. For me it means another struggle with my sense of balance as the partially cleared snow has become a pavement pockmarked with little icy craters. Place your bets, ladiesa and gentlemen, place your bets... There's severe weather warnings across Britain. Guess what guys? We know.

The information I have about pre-Servian cavalry is as follows... The earliest cavalry of Rome is described by Livy. Some consider this information as unreliable as is often the case with Roman sources dealing with the most distant antiquity. However the information is that there were six centuries of cavalry. Three centuries had apparently been originally formed by Romulus himself and each bore a name. Tities Priores Tities Posterirores Ramnes Priores Ramnes Posteriores Luceres Priores Luceres Posteriores After the later Servian Reforms these original centuries (Sevrius supposedly expanded the number by twelve) had a special significance and were known collectively as the Sex Suffragia "Six Votes". There is no evidence that centuries of horsemen were actually employed, but rather that six turmae of thirty riders were much older in form. To further complicate our understanding, the addition of priores and posteriores appears to linked to a tradition that cavalrymen were each attended by a mounted groom who fell back and did not take the line in battle. One source describes the cavalry introduced by Tarquin as having two horses, presumably so the rider could mount a fresh horse at a convenient moment. The state treasury provided 10,000 asses (coins, not animals) for the pourchase of horses and required rich widows to stump up a further 2000 for their upkeep during the campaigning year. Strictly speaking there's little or no evidence of any true cavalry until 403BC during the campaign against Veii, which Livy informs us was the first time that cavalrymen brought their own horses.

Praetorian dress and equipment appears largely similar to regular legionaries although there was a tendency toward oval shields, and the occaisional use of scale armour. Shield patterns were individual to cohorts and reflected the augustan origin of amalgamated bodyguard units used by commanders in the civil wars. Symbols of stars and moon were common. Since legionaries apparently owned their armour and equipment, and that there was little or no difference between legionary and praetorian equipent, it follows that when dressed for parade or battle there could not have been any significant degree of standardisation among the troops.Conformal appearance is therefore a product of the modern imagination.

wiir wiir wiiir wiiiirrrrrrriiiiiirrrrrr One of the hassles of living near to a garage is the sound of mechanics working. Normally things are fairly quiet and I don't notice their activities too much, but this morning is was out with the power tools and they got to work on somebodies car with a vengeance. wiir wiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrr wiiir wiiir As it happens I'd decided somewhat foolishly to enjoy a lay in. I mean, it was a cold moring and I'd been up late last night. So every time I rolled over and buried my ears in an attempt to snooze a little more, I was brought back to the real world. I had no choice but to grin and bear it I suppose. It would no use sleeping in the front room either. Firstly it was even colder than my bedroom but also out front the pavements are being dug up in a vain attempt to rectify all the faults the victorians built in to their civic engineering. Lots of white and orange bollards, heaps of dirt, and dayglo gorillas sat drinking tea in-between bouts of destruction with pneumatic drills. It's the british way. Stop Press - It's My Fault It's my own fault! I discovered that a few minutes ago here in the library. Apparently it serves me right for impersonating a soldier. That was the opinion of a librarian who passed me by. What on earth is she drinking? In what way am I being punished? And what gives these punishers the legal right to exact their sentence upon me? Sorry lady, but at no time have I ever attempted to claim I was a member of anyones armed forces, though on a few occaisions in the past my military surplus might have given that impression. She might also want to realise that vigilantism is not legal in Britain. Stupid woman.

In a sense yes because south america has it's own regional union now and thus Argentina is finding it easier to gather support for it's intiatives (though many countries appear to prefer not to upset Britain too much). But regarding mines - international conventions might be in place but soldiers laying mines around the world aren't really concerned with legality - they just want to blow enemies up or at least persuade them not to cross the minefield at all.

Since the praetorian guard were not a battle formation and regarded as something of an elite, you would expect their armour to be different in some way. Bear in mind that whilst in Rome any use of armour was ceremonial, because the ruling was that no armed soldiers should ever be present within the cities boundaries. Rather like modern security guards in suits, praetorians would keep watch over proceedings in the senate house dressed in togas with any weapons out of sight. I will look further at this but my own guess is that the armour varied only in specific details.

My world is very quiet of late, apart from the odd squabble among among my neighbours. About the only event worthy of note is the inspection of the property by my letting agent. They do tell me that they're not overly concerned at my lifestyle or how tidy the place is, but my days as an air cadet still afflict me with an instinctive desire to avoid having to clean the place all over again until I can eat my breakfast off it. So I had a bit of tidy up. That didn't hurt, did it? Plans The latest plans for Queens Park are posted at the library. Now that the council has disbanded the parks department to save money they might stop ripping all the foliage out of the park. Or will they? Time for me to head down to the display boards and find out what is going on. More Weather There's more warnings of persistent cold weather to come. That's the trouble with february. Almost every year it does this. Just when you think winter is all over and you've gotten away with it, along comes icy blasts from Siberia or the North Pole. It's supposed to be the coldest day this winter so far but it doesn't feel like that. Certainly not warm but there's none of that sharp coldness that demands long johns and gloves. Now that I've been warned things are getting colder, should I rush out and purchase protective warm clothing? My own attitude is very much that I've suffered far worse in the past and that I can hack it and so on. Then I saw one of those television experts telling us that older people do tend to say that before they die horribly of hypothermia. I've been warned. Whinge Of The Week I see Argentina is whinging to the UN because Britain sent a warship to the Falkland Islands. They say it's 'militarising' the area. I'm sorry, didn't Argentina send an entire army there in 1982 and leave a legacy of minefields all over the islands?

Roman cavalry of this era is not well documented. However we can say that horses were not common and to ride one in battle was a privilege reserved for the upper section of citizenry (which is where the idea of the equite, or knight, as a senior member of society comes from). Obviously since a horse was expensive, provision of one required a wealthy person. Spears were the weapon of choice, used overhand in a stabbing fashion or thrown at the target on a mobile pass. Shields would not have been used. Tactics were very much geared toward typical light cavalry roles such as reconnaisance, outflanking, harassement, and pursuit although the Romans were not noted for their skills in this regard. usually a the horses were deployed to the wings of the army on the battlefield, contesting the flanks with opposing cavalry and the winner able to move around the enemy undeterred. Fights between cavalry units weren't always head on fights - we know there was a lot of manoever and galloping involved as uniuts rode past the other or avoided contact. The secret of succesful use was mobility. Lose that and your cavalry risked getting slaughtered.

Dagnabbit, where's ma huntin' rifle? Gonna skin me an asteroid or two. Darn little critters ain't gettin' past me.

That's because you forgot the tent.

This was the weekend when the weather finally hit Britain. It did in some places, with Heathrow restricting flights and so on, but as usual Wiltshire got away with it. Most of the snow went elsewhere. All we got in Swindon was a dusting of snow that was practically gone within the course of the next day. Nothing like the siberian conditions that eastern europe have undergone. There are some extraordinary places in the world. I discovered one yesterday. Shoyna is a russian village inside the arctic circle. You wouldn't think so. Most of the houses are buried in sand drifts. It looks more like the sahara than a coastal tundra region. As often happens, the enviroment of this fascinating place is man-made. Intense fishing in previous decades ripped up the local sea floor vegetation and loose sand was driven ashore by the tides. Now it drfits with the wind, burying the rickety wooden houses overnight on a regular basis. Residents are wary about being trapped in their homes, not by snow, but sandrifts. You don't get this sort of thing on a David Attenbrough series. Droids Of The Night In the beginning was a man with no girlfriend. God made him that way apparently so I guess being omnipotent isn't quite what it's cracked up to be. Anyway that got sorted - twice, as it turns out. Sometimes though his descendants aren't so lucky. What then? How does a man calm his primal lust? Well God certainly thought of that one didn't he? However for some us a fun appendage doesn't really cut it. Not suprising then that enterprising women have gone into the worlds oldest business since blokes realised what that fun appendage was actually supposed to be for. Blame Eve. She persuaded Adam to eat that stupid apple in the first place. You would think those options would solve the problem, but no, sometime later somebody invented the blow-up dummy. I've not used one nor found anyone who admitted that they have, but I'm assured these things do exist. Now scientists are working on female robots as companions for those blokes who need something a little more animated. It's inevitable they tell us. If nothing else it proves how fecund human beings can be, or more to the point how desperate they can get when fecundity is unavailable to them. My own view is just how incredibly sad it is that people want to build and use artificial companions. Not just because of the admission that they can't get a real girlfriend, but also because they actually want an obedient slave. I mean, science fiction has been warning us for nearly a century about this sort of thing. Still, look on the bright side. At least scientists are likely to have forgotten to program your friendly robotic lover to remind you endlessly that you should have closed the toilet seat. Bumps In The Night It seems that my own castle is still under siege.. The enemy have made some covert attempts to gain access over the weekend, including the attempted use of a power tool in the small hours. Yep, I heard that one.

So far astronomers have found seven thousand asteroids orbiting close to Earth, of which nine hundred are at least one kilometre in diameter. That's like a mountain floating around up there at tens of thousands of miles an hour. Some of you are probably predicting this is going to be a paragraph or two about the frightening hazards whizzing silently over our heads. Correct. It is. The worrying thing - and the television documentary deliberately portrayed it in a manner designed to raise hair on the back of your neck - is that smaller asteroids are almost impossible to detect until it's too late, and their destructive power is pretty impressive. The evidence was a recent asteroid that fell in North Africa, prompting very important phone calls to the President and satellite photographs showing an impact point glowing as hot as the sun. Apparently one particular rock band cancelled a gig in New York because the lead singer was convinced an asteroid was headed there. With a bit of luck he also saw the documentary last night and has done the right thing by deciding not to sing in public any more. As it happens the solar system has mellowed after its incredibly violent youth when rocks were colliding like rush hour traffic in Mumbai. The known asteroids are in benign orbits that are not going to cause us any concern for at least the next century. Good news for us because insurers can't use astronomcal phenomena as an excuse for raising premiums. Unfortunately for Iran it's very bad news indeed. Partly because divine retribution against Israel appears unlikely, but also because using asteroid deterrence as an excuse for building nuclear warheads is not going to wash. Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch... Talking about imminent disasters the weathermen have downgraded the risk of snow to Defcon 4. You may now sleep safe in your bed,. Even better it means that very important transatlantic phone calls to the President are unnecessary so you can save on your phone bill too.

This sort of thing isn't that unusual in military procurement. Had India been at war, they would have grabbed the best if they could possibly get it. In peacetime, it's all deals under the table and who lays on the most lap dancing clubs.

Nature programs often fail to satisfy. David Attenborough is of course an old hand at it (no pun intended) and knows the score, which is one reason why his programs are worth a glance or two even if he does get a litle messianic occaisionally. Last night though he was nowhere to be seen. Instead we had a guy from India relating the tale of a tigress released into a nature reserve to repopulate an area cleared by poachers. Like many people I find big cats absolutely irresistible. Powerful, dangerous, charismatic. You just can't help but admire these hunters - it's a feral thing, something deep in our psyche, and the sheer majesty of a tiger moving stealthily through the undergrowth is hard to deny. Tiger tiger burning bright In the shadows of the night Fascinating details emerge. How they serenade their potential mates with muted roars. How two tigers introduce themselves (carefully) and start dating, seeking the company of another tiger as much as wanting sex. How leopards are rivals for territory and prefer not to mess with the bigger tiger, stealing food very much at their own risk. How tigers eat grass to aid digestion of meat and study the movements of potential prey to figure out where the best ambushes can be laid. I can see why this indian photographer has such a passion for his subject. Whether the storyline was genuine or cobbled together as nature programs often are, I found myself entranced by this tigress and her struggles with a new enviroment. The lady has class. And big teeth. Cool For Cats? Weather fit for siberian tigers is threatening our merry little island. It's hard to escape the news that eastern europe is having a hard time of it as temperatures plunge to nearly minus thirty degrees centrigrade. It is considerably colder outside today after that clear night. Not quite the siberian conditions of eastern europe that have caused frostbite and hypothermic deaths in tragically large numbers, but it's below zero for the first time this winter here in Blighty. Boy are those weathermen having fun for three minutes on the hour, every hour, as they gleefully plot the freezing of western civilisation. Cold Spot Of The Week The Oasis, Swindon's crumbling leisure centre complete with artificial tropical lagoon for people who have holiday withdrawal symptoms or simply can't handle air travel, is to get a makeover. Better yet, our town will get a snow dome. For the first time, Swindonians will be able to stay cold all year round. Great news.

I'm not that suprised. Many years ago I pondered the question of Darwin's evolution theory and whilst I couldn't disagree with it, there was something missing. As elegant a theory as it was, it didn't explain the pattern of evolution that the fossil record displays. Why was there such diversity of life if the process is so visibly slow? And why are we so easily able to discern between species if they're slowly changing all the time? Then it occured to me that looking at Darwins theory in isolation was the error. Once you realise how it fits in with the ecology of the world it makes more sense. What I mean is that as things normally are, life is more or less stable and species well defined. They know what to eat, where to find the food, and how to behave in polite society. That's fine. Now the process of evolution kicks in. Occaisionally, if a number of creatures are physically isolated, they diverge from the others as the smal mutations that suit their seperate enviroment prove better suited. Occaisionally though you must get mutant adaptions or behaviour that are part of the stable regime. That makes these individual creatures anomalies, non-conformists, and potential troublemakers. These non-comformal individuals might try to eke out a living in a different enviroment - but unfortunately, in the stable world, this alternative neighbourhood is already full of species who sorted out who eats what a long time before, so our non-conformal animal struggles and very likely dies before his new found talent is passed on. But what happens after an event that clears a territory? All of a sudden, there are new frontiers, new possibilities, and these non-conformal animals can pick and choose whatever food and housing they like. So we get a sudden meteoric diversity of species to populate this new territory until populations rise and the enviroment stabilises so everyone understands where the fences are. Humans are animals too. Some people don't like that idea, either because their priest bangs on about human ascendancy or simply in some victorian-esque outrage that they're no better than monkeys. But be honest - how did you get here? Basically because mom and dad bonked each other. That's a pretty primeval act as it happens, whatever Ovid said in the days of the Roman Empire. So although we have sophisticated nests and breeding sites, we are essentially doing little more than our primitive ancestors, and as such, our species follows the same rules as life everywhere else. Eat, drink, and get laid. Life goes on. So if, in the distant past, our primitive ancestors found new enviroments open to them, you would expect diversity of species, especially if these groups become isolated for long periods of time. It seems then in the light of recent evidence that the African Diaspora of 50,000 years ago had the unusual property of re-uniting species, where the weaker lot basically merged with the stronger. Who knows? Maybe the chinese are right and they are a seperate species of human being? After all, they're the only population of human beings on the planet who know how to make sweet and sour pork.

No... This can't be happening... Three phone calls in the same day. Those of you with social lives might not understand this but communication on this scale is beyond my experience as an older unemployed person. Not only that, but the phone calls were all from an employment agency who've almost ignored me for three years. Normally they email me a rejection the same day I apply for vacancies so imagine my suprise that my existence has finally been recognised. Not Any More For the first time since Antony Blunt was revealed as an artificial soviet rock placed on a London pavement, the Forfeiture Committee have acted. A little belatedly perhaps but then this was a committee decision. Not treachery against the state this time but behaviour unbecoming following our recent financial wobbles. In the wake of Fred Goodwin's dishonour (his knighthood was 'cancelled and anulled' yesterday) can you imagine what's going through the heads of those communists in the Job Centre who have tried to have me shot at dawn for assuming a title? Right now they'll be muttering darkly, making promises of dire retribution, and trying to figure out how to have me hauled in front of a magistrate. Probably much like they have for the last two years. Fighters For India Oh no, not again... Those pesky frenchmen have persuaded India to buy thier Dassault Rafale (whatever that is) instead of our shiney new Eurofighter Typhoons. I share David Cameron's disappointment on that decision but hey, look on the bright side, if Britain ever chooses to recolonise their former empire at least air superiority will be a little bit easier. Unless of course, those pesky frenchmen have occupied the Taj Mahal and are taunting us about hamsters, elderberries, and gaseouis discharges in our general direction. The secret of their success must be their outrageously silly accent. Store Of The Week I would like to take this iopportunity to congratulate Maplins for their first class customer service. I had a slight problem with a recent purchase and they not only exchanged the goods without complaint or attempt to fob me off, but took the time to prove the replacements worked as expected. Well done that store.

Sorry I missed this one. Still hungover from the new year I guess Must be great to be 21 again.

Let's see... According to this instruction manual, this lead plugs into that socxket there... And this other one goes there... and that bit of plastic needs to removed.... Now I just need to switch on and... phuttt!. Huh? Early yesterday evening I switched the device on and the power went off. Oh great. I checked the lights and none of those worked. I fumbled for a torch and found the batteries had long since gone flat. Nothing electrical in the house worked. Did I do that? Despite my fears everything sort of checked out. After a stubbed toe and a bruised shoulder I managed to find my mobile phone in the gloom. Please please please work. Yes! Hello? Is that the electric company? I don't seem to have any power at all. "I see Sir. Where are you?" At home. In the dark. "No Sir, I meant whereabouts in England." Oh right. Swindon. "Are you anywhere near Arthur Street?" I don't know an Arthur Street. Could be around here, I dunno, I mean I've only lived here nine years. Am I expected to know every side road in the entire area? "I see. Are you anywhere near the High Street?" Not really. That's a quarter of a mile away. "Not to worry Sir. We're getting reports all over the entire area." Oh brilliant. Singlehandedly I've plunged North Wiltshire into the middle ages. All with the flick of a switch. But of course it wasn't me, though I note my neighbour seemed strangely amused by the lack of electricity coursing through his ring main. The company said it might be three hours before resumption of service. It took only twenty minutes. Glad to see my money is being well used. Thieves Of The Week This prestigious award has to go to those baboons at the Zimbabwe border. Having plunged his country into economic meltdown, Mugabe's monkeys are now resorting to outright theft with menaces from vehicles, especially those laden with maize. Apparently the guards are getting a bit frustrated because these baboons, being clever little primates as well as violent kleptomaniacs, are accomplished tricksters and have learned how to get into vehicles. Before long they'll be stealing entire trucks and selling property on e-bay. Or at least they would be if anyone in Zimbabwe still had a computer.

In one of the science magazines lately they devoted an issue to Time. What is it? How much does it cost? What could you do with it if you could afford it? It's a remarkable thing that we experience one moment after another but that causes us to assume we know what time is. So helpless are scientists to explain exactly what Time is that instead of turning to Professor Cox, they're asking philosophers to explain it. Proof therefore that Time is an illusion. Unfortunately for everyone knowing that Time isn't real doesn't prevent monday mornings from happening on a regular basis. I should know - I've suffered at least fifty in the last year alone. So for those of you who now think that the passage of Time is something you can safely ignore, please be advised that your boss will not accept sensory phenomena as this weeks fun excuse for being late for work. Trust me on that. That Time OF Year The end of january is upon us and with it the inevitable chill of february.As if to confirm that observation the weather typically grey and cold. Not the sharp chill we associate with snow and ice, but that dreary dampness that causes old fogeys like me to complain about how our poor old bones are suffering. You know what I mean. If not, ask your grandad. I'm sure he'll tell you.. Truth is this winter has been remarkably mild. So far we've hardly had a frost at all. Only now are the weathermen beginning to warn us that some areas might see a light snowfall. Certainly not enough to convince the boss that you're being honest about struggling with blizzard conditions. Another little tip there. About Time Too Just this morning on Russia Today is the astonishing revelation that US and Taliban representatives are meeting in Qatar for talks on building trust. A few less IED's might help. It is however a very interesting development. We all know that the west is tired of the continual sniping and sweeping that wars like that in Afghanistan entail, yey the doggedness of allied presence in the middel east seems to have finally persuaded the Taliban that the only way to get rid of the Great Statn is to persuade it not to hit them anymore. Not On Time? Recently the removal of the Whalebridge roundabout has caused considerable traffic delays for those avoiding the South Swindon Bypass at Wichelstowe. Now I see traffic is avoiding the former Whalebridge site altogether and instead using a rat run through the nearby residential area. Lo and behold there's a long queue of cars every morning in what used to be a quiet street all utterly convinced they're getting around the delays on what is now an empty dual carriageway. Sheesh. Build a road and no-one wants to use it... What is the world coming to? I must therefore conclude that todays best chances of persuading the boss that you can't make it into work is that your car is currently trapped in a wintery time-space anomaly caused by Taliban insurgents on the Princes Street Carriageway.