Edinburgh Fringe Festival Review: Dead Cat Bounce – Caged Heat

Dead Cat Bounce are (L-R) Damo, Jim, Mick and Shane

Dead Cat Bounce: Caged Heat (@deadcatbounceie)
Pleasance Courtyard: Pleasance One, 10:30pm, 12-28 Aug
£12/£10.50 Concession (edfringe.com)

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/dead-cat-bounce-caged-heat

Three-word review: Comedy rock gods. Four Mikes

I will begin this review by unashamedly admitting that I love Dead Cat Bounce. I have followed them for a while now and I regularly listen to their two live albums on Spotify, so I fully expected this show to be nothing less than hilarious as I excitedly queued in the drizzle outside Pleasance One. Having said that, my first exposure to the band was at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2009 and though I remember laughing like a lunatic at the songs, I also distinctly recall them attempting some sketch-comedy segments between each tune that fell flat – a couple of them were greeted with complete silence by the capacity audience. Having not seen them live since, going in for their 2011 show “Caged Heat” I wondered whether they had decided to drop the sketches and focus on the music, which is their obvious strength, or if we would see another pick-and-mix show with different material.

Clearly, since 2009 DCB have tightened up their hour-long act to create a tight, impressive set interspersed with some excellent scripted banter to replace the unsuccessful skits of yesteryear. The band, comprised of Damo (drums), Jim (guitar/lead vocal), Mick (keyboard) and Shane (bass), are all very talented musicians and singers in their own right and they make up an extremely competent harmonic rock and roll band even when you put the gags to one side – which I think sets them apart from many musical comedy “novely acts”, as Damo describes them. Look out particularly for Shane’s bass solo during the introductions which clearly marks him out as one of the greatest comedy rock bassists of all time.

The set contains many familiar songs for existing fans, kicking off strongly with the anthemic and hilarious “Weeping Of The Willows” (introduced by Jim as ‘a damning indictment of the American ideal set against the backdrop of characters from The Wind In The Willows’) and following up with audience favourites such as “Christians In Love” (‘rubbing away like they’re getting a stain off a carpet’), “Switzerland”, “Rugby” and the delightfully double-entendre-laden faux-gangster rap “Firemen” (‘we got four motherfuckin’ firemen in the truck/But we ain’t got no motherfuckin’ hose’). The lads also introduce a quartet of new tracks, the best of which is probably titled “Kayaking” but an honourable mention must go to “This Wolf Howls Alone” featuring Shane on guest lead vocals after the band engage in an instrument swap, during which time he fails to pick up a different instrument – asserting that he “doesn’t like to cheat on his bass”, though he “does like seeing her with other men”. The show’s slight lull comes with “Human Statue”, which frankly isn’t the funniest song DCB have written and slows the momentum of the show before their big finish with melodic merch-flogger “Let’s Make Love”, which may not be the full title of the track, but I hesitate to reveal the rest for fear of giving the joke away. It does, however, allow the gig to end on a high while one lucky couple in the front row are given a complimentary DCB album, which I thought was a lovely touch. Had I been sat a few feet to the right, it could have been me. Maybe next year!

As I mentioned earlier, in addition to the music there is plenty of banter that flies back and forth between the lads which, while clearly scripted, is polished and refined to the point where it comes across as being very natural. The majority of the exchanges fall under the premise of Jim playing the straight, serious front man trying to explain the deeper meanings behind the show’s title expressed through the lyrics in his songs and unmodestly bigging up his own ability (“I kinda think of myself as a young James Dean“), while simultaneously getting frustrated as the rest of the band poke fun at his self-appointed integrity (“You know James Dean was 24 when he died? You’re more like an older, unsuccessful, less talented James Dean“). The banter ebbs and flows without overshadowing the music as the main attraction, and without wanting to recount too much of it for those who haven’t been to the show, a highlight came as Shane denounced Damo for ruining the sincerity of “This Wolf Howls Alone” by asserting that he was “standing in a puddle of [his] own integrity”.

Slight personal disappointments for me came in the form of the band having to disappear without an encore, which therefore meant that favourites such as Four Lads, Mary and Overenthusiastic Contraceptive Lady (‘why don’t you just let me in?’) were missing from the set, but overall it didn’t detract from the spectacle of Dead Cat Bounce in full flow. Whether you are a fan of toe-tapping rock and roll, comedic lyrical wordsmithery or simply getting the chance to see four incredibly talented young performers at the very top of their game, you’ll find Dead Cat Bounce unmissable.

Edinburgh Fringe Festival Review: Elis James – Do You Remember The First Time?

Elis James: Do You Remember The First Time? (@elisjames)
Pleasance Courtyard: Attic, 8:15pm, 9-29 Aug
£9.50 / £8 Concession (edfringe.com)

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/elis-james-do-you-remember-the-first-time

Three-word review: 2011′s hidden gem. Four Mikes

Elis James’s show was booked for me by a friend and even up to the point where we arrived at the venue we still couldn’t have told anyone his name. Our friends had been asking us all evening who we were going to see, and every time we answered with, “don’t know, some stand-up on a 2-4-1.” Unnervingly, my friend had started to draw comparisons with Rhod Gilbert based purely on the fact that they are both Welsh (edit – it turns out that James supported him on tour in 2008/9 – didn’t realise that until after the show was over). As a man who doesn’t particularly appreciate Gilbert’s shouty-sweary brand of humour, the very idea that they might be similar – no matter how unsubstantiated – made me worried.

I needn’t have been. Having taken our seats front-and-centre in the Pleasance Courtyard’s “Attic”, Elis bustled in like a precocious schoolboy and immediately set off on the audience – picking out a guy a couple of seats along from me and tearing into his half-British, half-American upbringing with aplomb. He got a bit lucky with his banter as he made a disparaging comment about the guy’s parents, who just happened to also be in the room – sitting at the back on the other side. A possible moment of awkwardness, having been obviously caught off-guard, was handled as if it had been scripted. Immediately you feel at ease; his body language is non-threatening, yet he speaks with such passion that you can’t help but be taken in.

The remaining warm-up chat was largely about the Welsh language and the way some phrases translate literally (and hilariously) into English; without wanting to spoil any of the punchlines, suffice to say that there were many chortles to be had in this little segment. It was slightly stereotypical but crucially not over-done – we were fed just enough to get us all laughing around in our seats without the joke becoming stale.

With everyone suitably in the mood, Elis launched into his main material with a confident, relaxed ease. The core of his show centers around a certain TV sports presenter with whom he has something of a fixation after a chance encounter as a 7-year-old that didn’t go entirely to plan. He also discusses moving to London from Wales with all the trimmings, a story about his dad advising him to wee in a swimming pool as a child (whatever you’re thinking, you’ll be surprised) and a couple of roaringly funny tales about adventures he’s had with some old school friends that almost had me crying – look out for one about carol singing, the premise of which is utterly absurd and the conclusion simply brilliant. The great thing about Elis, despite his clear adeptness at spinning the yarn, is that his anecdotes are the sorts of stories that you almost couldn’t make up because they seem so unlikely… and yet, they are also incredibly familiar, and you don’t for one moment consider that they might be untrue. There’s a fine line between all those things that Elis treads perfectly, barely missing a beat along the way and keeping the waves of laughter building up to crescendo.

With the whole room suitably red-faced, Elis wraps up with a comfortable segue to a further encounter with the aforementioned TV presenter, accompanied by another almost unbelievable story which was starting to sound far-fetched until he presented, via projector, a snippet from the Daily Mail covering the incident. By the time it was all over, my face was aching and my legs slapped to within an inch of their lives. On the way out I saw one girl having to wipe mascara-drenched tears from her face, and I left the venue unable to find any fault with the show whatsoever.

In the past, I’ve been out to much larger venues and seen comedians with far more fanfare with tickets costing a lot more money, but very few of them made me laugh as much as Elis James. His diminutive, self-deprecating and adorable comedy style combined with a tiny venue and not much publicity mean he is easy to miss; please, please make sure you don’t. I get the distinct impression he might not be stuck in the Attic for much longer.

Edinburgh Fringe Festival Review: Tom Deacon – Can I Be Honest?

Tom Deacon: Can I Be Honest? (@tomdeaconcomedy)
Pleasance Dome: Ten Dome, 8:20pm, 9-17 Aug
£8.50 / £7 Concession (edfringe.com)
http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/tom-deacon-can-i-be-honest

Three-word review: Entertaining but patchy. Three Mikes

Going to see Tom Deacon was one of those occasions that often comes about when you’re in Edinburgh during the Fringe Festival: it’s a Saturday afternoon, you’ve met a friend for a drink, it’s pouring with rain outside and all the bars are therefore either outdoors and damp or indoors and rammed. So, you decide to go and see a show instead. Doesn’t matter what it is – just whatever you’ve got that’s within 100 yards of walking distance, starts in the next half-hour and appears to have at least a few credentials to justify the inevitable £10-odd ticket price. Upon scouring the options, Tom Deacon appeared to be the best choice as a current Radio 1 DJ and with a favourable review from the Sunday Times already banked – and so sitting in the back row of his hour-long stand-up show was where I found myself. I got a bit lost looking for the Ten Dome due to duff information from the bloke at the ticket desk so I crept in a couple of minutes late. Sorry Tom!

Now, the pitfall of such a whimsical ticket purchasing strategy is that you never really know what you’re going to get. In previous Fringe years such tactics have caused me to stumble upon some truly horrendous acts whose careers I have watched die before my very eyes – but contrarily, and mercifully, the Fringe also generally throws up plenty of solid performers, and one or two destined-for-greatness gems.

For me, Tom Deacon was neither the former nor the latter, but fitted snugly into the middle as a decent comedian who started slowly and took a bit of time to get the entire audience on-side, but once he was in his stride he raised more than just a chuckle from the majority of the room, which was probably about three-quarters full.

His strategy is to play the “awkward” card as he recounts a number of embarrassing episodes that have befallen him over the course of the last year, including being accused by his flatmate’s girlfriend of “touching him too much” and a dreadful regional accent mix-up with his girlfriend’s father on his first trip up north to ‘meet the parents’. While his stories were fundamentally funny and cringeworthy on the face of it, I felt that he spent too long elongating each tale to the point where the audience had pretty much guessed the punchline before he had gotten around to revealing it, or he knocked the punchline in too early and continued the story after the joke had passed. It was at these points that Tom tended to lose the audience slightly, and so when his stories reached their conclusions his pause for “awkward effect” was more out of genuine awkwardness at the lack of obvious laughter than at the joke itself. Like any comedian worth his salt he glossed over these moments with a flowing irreverence, but overall I thought the stories were probably the weakest element of the show, and I would say the rest of the room would have agreed with me. His set was fairly London-influenced and I can imagine it would probably go down better if being performed in the capital; as a former southerner myself there were a few references I understood that appeared to be largely lost on everyone else. My Scottish friend who accompanied me to the gig confirmed this when we talked about it afterwards.

Having said all that, there were some genuine belly laughs from the entire audience during the gig, but very few of them came during Tom’s anecdotes. Moreso, they came from the sort of short, punchy observations and self-deprecating idiosyncrasies that (for those familiar) mark Jon Richardson out as such a superb comedian. Throughout the show Tom talks about various things that he finds unbearable – and his short skits about each one are really quite entertaining. His impressions of his posh London flatmates and their absurd colloquialisms were hilarious and pitched perfectly – I was almost off my chair laughing at one point. There was also some very endearing material about his hair which culminated with a punchline that I won’t spoil, but certainly caught me off guard and let to an embarrassing “HA!” that seemed to echo around the room. All this material made Tom extremely charming and should really, I think, have been the backbone of the set.

So overall, Tom Deacon tickets were a pleasant off-the-cuff purchase on a Saturday evening that otherwise promised to be damp and disappointing. If you’re stuck for a rainy-day show, you’d do worse than seeing this one.

I’m doing like, marathons and shit. Isn’t it?

I know these “give me money” things go around all the time so apologies in advance – but here goes…

I’m running 5 marathons in 5 days this September, 131 miles from Brussels to Amsterdam. It’s going to be torturous, arduous and painful-ous but at the same time, probably the greatest achievement of my life so far. I’m running with three friends and we’re aiming to do something amazing while also raising money for our nominated charity, Mary’s Meals. They provide daily meals to chronically hungry children in their local school, and in doing so, children who would otherwise often go without a meal are well fed, encouraged to attend school, and through education gain a better life for themselves.

Our £7,000 target will hopefully lead to more photos like this

We are firm believers in the notion of sustainable giving – that those in need don’t want to rely on handouts for the rest of their lives, but want the tools allow them to improve their lives themselves. A good education is surely the most fundamental of these tools. £7,000 will build a kitchen in a school in Malawi or Liberia through Mary’s Meals’ Sponsor a School scheme. Through this project, all those donating will know which school their money has gone to, and will be able to see photos of the what the money has funded. The last thing we want is for our donations to go into a black hole – 80% of all donations are spent on charity “admin” costs, or so we have read – so having this specific project as our target means that we know where our money is going, which is something I feel very strongly about.

Anyway, here are various web links to our various… things.

Donate:                http://www.justgiving.com/frombtoa

Web:                     http://www.frombtoa.com

Twitter:                http://www.twitter.com/frombtoa

Facebook:           http://www.facebook.com/pages/FromBtoA/219787328045635

Charity:               http://www.marysmeals.org.uk/what-you-can-do/sponsor-a-school/

If you can afford to donate then it would be massively appreciated, but anything is appreciated really – a retweet, a Facebook update, forwarding this on to your friends; anything.

As an added cry for help, we’re also looking for corporate sponsorships – i.e., getting companies to provide us with some of our resources so that we don’t have to pay for them ourselves. Sadly the runs don’t mean we just have to show up, run loads, then come home. We need things like flights, accommodation, a hire car, drinks, kit, shoes, nutritional supplements, a portable ice bath… you name it. So if you have any contacts who work for companies who might be prepared to chuck any of these things (or anything else you can think of) our way in exchange for some free advertising via our website and various other PR portals, then I’d be really grateful.

Anyway, I’m going to stop rambling now and leave you with pictures of my training schedule (in miles) and our route, in order to try to inspire the sympathy vote. Thanks for reading!

Mikey x

FromBtoA Training Schedule and Route... argh!

An open letter to the Press Complaints Commission

This is an email which I have already sent to the Press Complaints Commission regarding today’s article on the Daily Mail website by Richard Littlejohn. I’m certainly not the only person to be outraged by it – if you haven’t read it yet, feel free to use the link below:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-1368594/Japanese-earthquake-tsunami-My-wifes-PoW-grandad-wouldnt-mark-minutes-silence.html

“First and foremost, the article itself is an utter disgrace to any reasonable person and is a detriment to the progress of the human race. I understand that technically Richard Littlejohn’s article doesn’t breach any of the points within the PCC Code of Practice. Now, I would like to cite a paragraph from your Q&A to support my complaint.

“Advertising billboards (and to a lesser extent television programmes, for example), contain information disseminated on a very wide scale, the consumption of which cannot necessarily be controlled. As anyone can look at an advert, it is necessary to ensure that all advertisements do not break basic standards of decency and taste. On the other hand, newspapers are actively purchased and therefore need not be subject to the same restrictions.”

In this case you are quite incorrect. You need to update the Code to reflect the fact that articles are now disseminated online and are arguably as visible, if not more visible, than television adverts and advertising billboards. I did not buy the Daily Mail today and yet I have been exposed to this filth. The internet falls under the category of “cannot necessarily be controlled” with regard to consumption and so, as the Press Complaints Commission, your jurisdiction must also extend to these newspapers’ websites. After all, you list “online” as an option when complaining and invite people to provide a link, so it quite clearly does.

I understand that the PCC cannot be a moral arbiter but you simply have to accept that drafting a version of the Code of Practice that only covers the printed press is no longer appropriate. Bigots like Richard Littlejohn should be no more able to freely post horrendous, racist articles on the internet than a motor vehicle company should be able to produce an advert that says, “Japan’s fucked, why not buy a British car instead?”

You simply have to see that this is true, and take steps to do something about it. Do a survey if you like. I don’t pretend to know what the majority of people want, but it’s about time you took the opportunity to find out.”

Keys and Gray know the offside rule, but not how to behave in the 21st century.

I have to admit that when I first read the “sexist” quotes from Richard Keys and Andy Gray about the female assistant referee who co-officiated the Wolves-Liverpool game on Saturday, I sympathised with them.

The notion that many people don’t fully understand the nuances of the complicated offside rule in association football, especially wives and girlfriends – who are the the people that ask us the most and still don’t understand even when we do explain it – has led to the supposition that “women don’t understand the offside rule”. When this assumed phenomenon is applied to a female assistant referee, who doubtlessly has years of training and experience and has risen through the ranks to become an official in the Premier League, one of the fastest and most intense leagues in the world, suddenly you are presented with an example of British satire at its most classical. Take a widely generalised stereotype, find a conflicting situation, pop your tongue in your cheek and parody the established fact with the unacceptable common view – making sure to throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder and check that your co-conversationalist is rolling his or her eyes.

Just in case you're unsure.

I read that Keys remarked to Gray, upon noting that the assistant referee was female, that “someone should get down there and explain the offside rule to her”. When I read that for the first time, I chuckled to myself – not least because a good friend of mine had already made the exact same assertion as his Facebook status earlier in the day. Clearly, I thought, that’s a joke, and anyone who takes it seriously wants a good talking to.

So then the furore happened about them being “sexists”, and I thought, here we go again. The feminist bandwagon rolls into town the moment a man dares to embark on a bit of horseplay and suddenly they’re being stood down by Sky and attacked from all corners. What kind of world are we living in, I thought to myself. Sexism exists and it’s a very real and terrible thing, and there’s no place for it. But parody and satirical social commentary of this type is the very backbone of British sensibility. Take that away, ban it, and you’re crushing the very essence of why we’re regarded as having the best sense of humour in the world. Sometimes it’s edgy, sometimes it goes a bit too far, and sometimes someone gives a microphone to Frankie Boyle. But, I thought, saying a female official doesn’t know the offside rule “cos birds don’t know nuffink about football lolz!” is a mockery of the people who seriously perpetuate that point of view, and it’s not sexist; it’s humorous.

"You're about as edgy as a satsuma" - Vince Noir

Then, I actually listened to the recording of the exchange between Keys and Gray. If you haven’t heard it, please use the link below (apologies for using the Daily Mail but it was the first one I came across):

http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/01_04/sky.mp3

And suddenly it all makes sense. Gray and Keys aren’t engaging in horseplay… they’re actually massively sexist arseholes. Their context and intonation suggests that they seriously believe that all women, including this one, a licensed Premier League official, don’t know the offside rule. They appear to sound disgusted that a woman should be allowed to take any part in officiating a Premier League game, as if it is too complex for their tiny girl brains to comprehend. This is obviously ridiculous, disgraceful, unacceptable and pathetic. I’m sitting here typing this, still struggling to come to terms with the sheer idiocy required to honestly believe such a thing.

Gray and Keys, presumably with their "Pricks of the Season" award

And this frustrates me particularly because all the stuff I’ve defended above about the British sense of humour – which I will stand by until I’m in a hole in the ground – gets spoiled by these two unbelievable idiots. The whole notion of tongue-in-cheek is that you don’t really believe what you’re saying, and you’re allowed to say it because no-one really believes it, do they? Well it turns out that, unfortunately, some of them do. And here are two prime examples. At least with Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand it was a badly-conceived joke that got out of hand, but there was at least an attempt at being silly and funny in the first place. In this case, these two jackasses are being serious from start to finish, without a chuckle or a raised eyebrow between them.

I was no particular fan of either man before this incident. I’ve actually met Richard Keys a few times, and he seemed very nice. My overwhelming memory of him is that he has uncommonly hairy hands. And Andy Gray, well… how he’s managed to be a pundit for so long beggars belief, in my opinion. You’ve never heard such an enormous volume of garbage compressed into such a short space of time in your entire life if you’ve never heard one of his half-time or post-match analyses. Football punditry has been in the gutter for a long time, with TV stations always going for big-name ex-players with brains like rhesus monkeys in the quest for ratings; Garth Crooks has never said anything that makes sense to me but he says it with such feigned authority and insistence that he somehow keeps popping up on Football Focus every week. He must handle his BBC contract negotiations in a similar manner.

"Well at least this flag doesn't clash with my top!" - not a quote by Sian Massey.

And the great irony of all this is that the female assistant referee in question – Sian Massey – had an excellent game. She had one massive decision to make for the first Liverpool goal and she got it spot on; it was borderline, and in live action it looked like it was offside, but she made the right call and the goal stood. So it appears that a new, young, vibrant assistant referee is doing better than her predecessors in her new role and not making mistakes despite being under huge pressure; a changing of the guard has served them well. Maybe Sky Sports should make a note of that when they’re deciding whether to renew the contracts of messrs Gray and Keys.

Apples and Pearshaped

Those who know me closely will also probably be aware of my sheer, unadulterated hatred for Apple and the cretins who mope around after every product release convinced that this one is going to change the way they live their miserable lives. They should release their own version of the Cockmaster VL2 so their legions of mindless drones can finally do what they’ve always wanted to do and literally shag the sleek, metal curves of Apple’s most recent piece of half-broken next-month’s-car-boot-sale bullshit. I’m sure they would do that if they weren’t so anti-porn; Steve Jobs is clearly asexual. Can you get your end into a FireWire port? You can bet more than one person has tried.

The suggestion that Apple never, ever release a piece of hardware that actually works properly is only a scientific research study away from being hard fact. We all know it’s true, but Apple have done an almost unholy job of rendering a few million people worldwide completely blind to it. There’s no doubt that it’s absolute marketing genius, the actual indoctrination of a huge number of people to the point that they will fight tooth-and-nail with someone like me on the merits of Apple products regardless of how limp their arguments actually are. I intend to tackle some of these flimsy arguments head on in the forthcoming bile-laden paragraphs. Just call me Osama Bile-Laden.

How many people were queueing around the block for the iPhone 4 in the UK alone? Literally thousands. Hundreds in Glasgow, hundreds in Edinburgh, thousands in London. The first bloke in the UK to get a new iPhone 4 was some loser from Stoke-on-Trent who queued for “only” 16 hours, according to the Herald Scotland website. And if you want depressing, this sentence takes some beating:

‘At the flagship Apple store on Fifth Avenue in New York, more than 600 people queued to get a device that some were calling the “Jesus Phone”’

Jesus is right. Jesus H. Christ, are you serious? Without meaning to destroy these people’s tiny minds, you are queueing up for a mobile phone for crying out loud. It’s not the Ark of the Covenant, even if it is the best mobile phone ever to be released.

Or is it? Mere hours later, what’s this? Apple have put the antenna in the bottom left-hand side of the phone, meaning that if you do something like, oh, I don’t know… hold it up to your ear, your hand blocks the signal, you lose all the bars and your £650 iPhone 4 becomes…… the most expensive piece of plastic you’ve ever bought?

Yes. That’s exactly what it is. So Apple have, once again, proven that they are 100% interested in form over function. Style over substance. And you know the most frustrating thing about that? That’s why these cretins buy them time after time after time. That’s the reason. Not because Macs are better, and they crash less. That is the biggest lie Apple have ever perpetrated. I’ve used Macs against my will throughout my life in work and educational environments and I can safely say that Macs crash easily as often as PCs. There’s simply no debate about it. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar. You might very well have a Mac that’s never crashed, but you know the last time my PC crashed? That’s right. Never. I’ve had my current PC for about three years now, and it has never suffered a fatal crash. Software crashes sometimes because I overload the processor, but that’s my fault. And you know what? That happens to Macs as well. And their processors aren’t usually half as powerful so what do you fucking expect.

I happen to own an iPhone 3G, which may seem strange considering my attitude. I decided it was time to get a smartphone seeing as my traditional, boring old “actual buttons” phone was looking a bit tired. I looked around at the options. HTC was a strong contender for a long time, but I started to hear things about them not working properly. The iPhone became an option, and as a direct upgrade as well – not tied in to one of these super-expensive contracts. I was offered my existing riotously-cheap deal but with a free iPhone 3G. I wanted to believe. I put my concerns and my instincts to one side.

Deal, I said, send me it over so I can start getting hold of some of these apps I keep hearing about. I’ve had it for about four months now, and you know what? It sucks. It doesn’t just suck a little bit, it sucks often and constantly. More often than not, when I try to unlock it, it hangs for a good 30 seconds before it kicks back into life. When I go down some stairs, all signal is lost. That could be my network so I’ll let that one go; but when I come back into an area that I know has good reception, my iPhone simply refuses to find the signal. It just sits there saying “No Service” despite me being in the centre of Edinburgh. Really no service? Or just no idea?

All too familiar for iPhone users?

Another thing it enjoys doing is taking about five minutes to reboot. Occasionally, seeing as my iPhone is almost permanently switched on, I decide to reboot it to give it a chance to take a breather. I’m a computer guy, I understand that rebooting is occasionally necessary to keep your hardware and software ticking over, and it’s good to reboot and reinstall things here and there in order to keep things running properly. Having said all that, I did a test last night: my PC restarts, boots back to Windows and I can be looking at my Facebook page faster than my iPhone 3G restarts. Seriously. It’s a motherfucking mobile phone. How long does it need to take? I’m not exaggerating here either – I wish I was. And don’t get me started on their computers.

The thing about Macs is that, for £1200, you can get the latest Apple MacBook Air. It’s underpowered, overpriced and extremely light on utilities compared to the equivalent PC. There’s absolutely no debate about it. You can buy the Mac mini from the Apple UK website for £649 – and that’s the starter price for what appears to be their cheapest hardware offering. Let’s have a little look at what you get for your hard-earned £649.

Apple Mac mini (basic)

Intel Core 2 Duo Processor 2.4GHz
320GB HDD
2GB RAM expandable to 8GB
8X DVD/RW Optical Drive
Various ports and things that you’d expect

Now this is just a base unit. It has no monitor, no keyboard or any other peripherals. That’s fine, I don’t need those. Let’s look at equivalent PC base units for the same price, shall we? Apple fanboys, look away now.

HP Pavilion P6319UK – £648.20 on Dabs.com.

Intel QUAD Core i5 650 / 3.2GHz
640GB HDD
6GB RAM expandable to 16GB
Lightscribe DVD/RW Optical Drive

Well well well, would you look at that? By my reckoning, that’s… why, that’s almost EXACTLY TWICE AS POWERFUL IN EVERY WAY! And I’d like to add that I didn’t look these up before I started writing this blog. The first time I looked was at the end of the last paragraph, after I’d written “look away now”. You know how I could be so confident that I’d be right? Because everyone with a brain knows that Apple are ripping you off. You’re wasting your time and money buying products that are already obsolete by the time they are released. The Mac mini, at that spec, was “new” tech about five years ago. That’s not fucking new! It’s old news! So that brings me both on, and back, to the question: why the hell does anyone buy Apple products?!

Let’s look again at the marketing blurb Apple puts in front of its Mac mini.

“Introducing the new Mac mini. Redesigned in a very big way.”
“Way more than meets the eye. The sleek aluminium enclosure hides a powerful, full-size computer.”

Look at all of that. When does it first mention the actual computer, you know, the bit you’re really paying for? The very last word. The first two sentences are purely design-focused. They’re all about telling you how pretty their stuff is, and it baffles me how so many people buy it. It’s unbelievable. I realise that having nice, sleek, pretty products is awesome. If I could get a PC that was as pretty as a Mac, I would. Believe me. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with the design. But the design IS NOT WHY YOU BUY A COMPUTER. It’s not a fucking vase or a painting. It’s a computer. It computes. That is what it is built to do.

Not with Apple though, you’re buying a brand and a lifestyle; oh the irony of that. My good friend Robert L. Barbour Esq. has put together an excellent Venn diagram to illustrate Apple’s positioning in the market.

So Apple’s “form over function” approach strikes again with the iPhone 4. I really hope one of the idiots who queued through the night to hand over £650 only to receive a piece of new technology that looks pretty but doesn’t make calls if you pick the sodding thing up is reading this blog. And I hope it makes you think about your life, because believe me – you’re wasting it.

Jules Rimet Still Gleaming…

Ever since going on an epic road trip halfway across Europe with my main men Ollie and Ed for the World Cup in Germany, 2006, I’ve been looking forward to it all coming around again.

And this was just the first night. Look out, rest of Germany!

While we were in Hanover drinking at an all-night bar – an evening that ended up with Ollie and I naked with only stolen balloons covering our modesty, photographic evidence on Facebook – we bumped into, among other people, a very friendly South African guy who ended up inviting us over to stay with him for the duration of the next tournament in 2010.

He wrote his phone number and other details on Ed’s shirt and made off into the night, and at the time we were all completely stoked that we’d managed to secure our accommodation for when we did it all over again in four years’ time.

The three of us said that if we saved £1 per day for the next four years we’d have more than enough money to take two weeks off, get flights to Johannesburg and experience the South African World Cup. It all seemed so possible at the time.

Sadly, we’re not going to the World Cup, though my excitement about the tournament hasn’t been dampened whatsoever. That road trip was epic, the tournament was spectacular and the holiday was one of the best times of my life. The excitement I’m feeling right now, with only a few hours until the first kick-off, is just as high as it was that evening we arrived in the World Cup campsite in Dortmund.

I haven’t seen much commentary on the internet about the World Cup (!) so allow me to project my opinion. I don’t think England will win it, and if they do it will be a huge upset. Don’t get me wrong, I desperately want England to do well, as I always do. And, I know that if it comes to the knockout stages and we end up at penalties – and statistically we’re likely to have to go through at least one penalty shootout if we’re going to get to the final – I’m going to be on the edge of my seat, heart in my mouth and teary-eyed when John Terry blazes one over the bar.

All too familiar for England fans. F*cking penalties!!

But I’m just as much looking forward to the opening games today as any of the England matches. I think the Euros in 2008 made me remember how much of a celebration football is, and the wonderment that comes along with major tournaments shouldn’t limit you to constantly talking about them in reference to your own national team.

Living in Scotland has also given me a great sense of perspective. Qualifying for major tournaments is more often than not a step beyond our neighbours to the north, but up here are some of the most knowledgeable and ardent football fans I’ve ever met. Their passion and commitment to the game is commendable and some of them have managed to convince me that North Korea vs Brazil could be the highlight of the tournament. I know I’m looking forward to it more than England vs Slovenia, anyway.

For make great glorious nation of North Korea!

So today is the day. This could be one of the best World Cups I’ve ever seen, and it promises to be eventful from start to finish. The weeks, months, years of waiting are finally over. Good luck South Africa – the eyes of the footballing world are upon you, and we’re bloody excited!

It's on, bitches!

Running on donations

As the old saying goes, charity begins at home. It’s very true, especially in my case – where charity is your cash and home is my JustGiving page.

In my previous entry I mentioned that I’m going to be running marathons and stuff in memory of my nan and to support Alzheimer’s charities. Well, I’ve settled on Alzheimer Scotland as my nominated charity and it’s time to start begging for some cash.

My last entry mentioned giving me some money via PayPal but that hasn’t done anything so I thought I’d set up a JustGiving page instead. At the time of writing I’m approximately 0% of the way to my £500 total so please give generously and help me hit my target. Below is a clever Flash widget to give constant updates on my progress – so if you see this page and the widget says I’m below 100%, you are morally obliged to donate immediately. Court order.

So thanks for donating, thanks for reading, and if you’re still not convinced to give me some money, just have a look at the picture below, then click on “Donate”. You know you’ve got to.

Don't even pretend you can say no to this face.

Hellogoodbye

February is here already; it seems like January disappeared in a blur of singing and drinking. However after the January hangover came the sobering news that my Nan passed away on February 3rd after an extended hospital stay. She was 87 years old, which is an exceptional knock by all accounts. I don’t want to turn this into a depressing entry about the nature of life and death but I would like to quickly mention the things I remember about my Nan.

We hadn’t seen each other for quite a while; what with me living in Scotland these days I don’t get a chance to head down south very often, though that is just an excuse. It’s an unfortunate symptom of our family that many of us aren’t particularly close, and don’t talk to each other much – if it weren’t for Facebook I don’t think I would have contact with any of my cousins, which would be a desperate shame because they’re all such wonderful people. I’m rambling a bit here; the point is, I hadn’t seen Nan for at least 18 months mostly because since becoming an adult, we drifted apart in terms of contacting one another. So all my memories of her are from my childhood – though I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.

I remember Nan’s house had a doorway from living room to kitchen, but no door – she always had those plastic streamer things hanging down from the frame. They used to keep me amused for hours when I was in my pre-teen years… misspent youth or what. I remember her dog, Cindy, who was apparently not a Great Dane according to my cousin Kate (thanks cuz!) but, either way, was much bigger than me. Like all kids, I used to want to ride Cindy and made several attempts to do so – usually being castigated by my mum, quite rightly, at every attempt. Cindy was a lovely old girl and I was sad when I heard she had passed away; I couldn’t imagine Nan without her.

I remember Nan always used to have doilies everywhere, even in places that didn’t require doilies. Then again, I suppose doilies don’t stick to the rules. They play their own game. I remember that she had a Pink Panther lamp that I was desperate to see in action, but always sat on a shelf out of my reach so I couldn’t even accidentally break it.

I remember she used to cook us roast dinners every now and then, but it was always her cakes that got me. Nan was never short of a cake. Whenever we went around to visit, it was the first thing she would do after we opened the door – would you like a piece of cake, Michael? Nan always, always used to make fruit cakes laced with raisins and sultanas – sometimes I’d suggest they were more sultana than cake. As as kid, if you’re given a free choice of cake, you’d never choose fruit cake. It seemed far too healthy and that’s-what-they-want-you-to-eat for me. I’d always eat Nan’s cake though, regardless, because I wanted her to think I liked it even when I wasn’t sure. Doesn’t sound like much, but that’s a pretty big sacrifice for a kid to make.

Ivy May Paul, 1922-2010, with my Uncle Chris. Sweet dreams Nan.

I’m planning on running a series of 10k, half and full marathons for Alzheimer’s charities this spring – Nan suffered with dementia at the end, and Alzheimer’s disease is something that’s sorely under-funded in the UK at the moment. Plus I’m going to the gym a lot more these days and trying to get myself into a nice shapely shape so everything falls together quite nicely. Details of my runs (so far!) are:

March 7th:  Meadows Marathon
April 18th:  Chris Hoy Edinburgh Half Marathon
May 2nd:  BUPA Great Edinburgh Run
May 23rd:  Edinburgh Marathon 2010

Edit: If you’d like to donate, please use my JustGiving page. It’s now officially the hottest JustGiving page this side of the freakin’ sun.

You win again, gravity… until next time.