Pass the Dutchie.....
Well in this case the baton - a blogging community idea which some decry, but I'm just chuffed to do because someone has read my inane drivel. Thanks to Watski for passing it over. It's just a list of 5 things varied things, so here goes......
5 Songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order)
Nothing Compares to U - Sinead O Connor : A song to rip your heart out and to bring every emotion to the surface. Tip - think of someone you love, play the song, imagine they were gone. Get a hankie ready.....
It's a Miracle - Roger Waters : Haunting, nelodic and a real dig at a society we inhabit, it's shallow values, it's consumerism, it's increasing globalism, it's lack of compassion. Sarcastic music at 's very best. Paul Weller eat your heart out.
Bank Robber - The Clash : You see when punks were shouting and screaming and revelling in their tunelessness, a group came from that movement that knew the importance of melody and meaningful lyrics and how to get a message over. A rock/reggae mix which crossed ethnic, age and genre boundaries - a fucking classic.
White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane : Way back in 1967 before they became a Starship this was the anthem of druggie influenced hippy rock. If any song encapsulated the liberation of the 60's youth and their defiance of authority then this was it (yeah...Ok amongst others, but this is my favourite).
Teenage Wasteland - The Who : As Baldrick might describe it, this was their "magnificent octopus" - a song about the dashed hopes and desires we all seem to suffer as spotty, pubescent, suddenly aware mutations called teenagers. I know because I'm re-living this through my own Teenager.
So no new songs then, maybe thats an indication of age, or the fact that to keep my interest they still have to be interesting after 10 or more years.
The last 5 films I watched
Donnie Darko : See blogs passim. Weird, impenetratable, dark, surreal, funny and compelling. Still waiting for the second viewing.
Schindlers List : A film never to tire of. A classic in the truest sense of the world. Fail to be moved by the ending and you have no heart and no soul. You are the undead.
Dr Strangelove : I first saw this 3 years ago on an OU Arts summer school. How did I go through life missing this Kubrick masterpiece, and superb satire on the Cold War?
Bridget Jones - Edge of Reason : Not as good as the first but a harmless way to spend an evening.
Outbreak : There was simply nothing else on Sunday night.
5 TV programmes I never miss
Doctor Who : Brilliant , and the recently finished two parter was as creepy as anything on TV and definitely king of the pile. It was so scary it couldn't have helped the bedwetting fraternity much.
Holby City : How many stories can you run about a hospital? Limitless it seems as the human condition, both physical and mental has so many variants. Always well written, always human, always entertaining. Just a little more humour please?
Question Time : Nothing, but nothing raises the radical left wing tub thumping socialist in me as listening to pompous preening politicians and academics talk bollocks so far removed from what affects me and what I care about. Aside from Chelsea losing nothing threatens the condition of my TV's health and general operation like this.
Match of the Day : A ritual for me, wherever I am. My life since the seasons end now has a huge hole in it on Saturdays at 10.30.
Have I Got News For You? 17 years old and still going strong. Still bitingly funny and irreverent.
I hereby now pass the baton to Crox, Shelley, Bedshaped, Mick and errr........Mick
Later, GrocerJack
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Another What The Fuck email……….
Every now and then I get the odd gem of an email sent to me, and I like to share these with you. I received the one below this morning as a courtesy copy to The Stumbler and do I understand what the fuck it’s about? Errr…..do I fuck!
The guy who sent this is a nice chap on first meeting, but then you realise this sort of gobbledygook bollocks is his whole life. This is a man who applies process to his weekly Tesco shop, or applies techniques to parking his car, walking his dog and for all I know bashing one out when his wife is out (and yes, you all do the same thing, women as well as men so don’t deny it). This guy is ex-military, officer class and now he thinks I’m his mate so he keeps sidling up to my desk for discrete little chats. The problem is, the chats are all about the sort of shite written below, or they’re anecdotes of his experiences at various “blue-chips”. Unfortunately for me, they not even funny anecdotes, let alone interesting. I shall call him The Officer for want of a better nickname, just in case I receive any more bollocks like this.
Hi Stumbler
Following this AM meeting I agree it would be a good idea to apply some of the Six Sigma thinking and tools to the Change Management process and use this as an C&T case study.
In this circumstance I suggest we do not use the "classical" Six Sigma DMAIC process which is fundamentally flawed. Six Sigma and the DMAIC process assume the problems, processes and customers are known. Plus process date is either available or can be readily captured/measured.
I suggest we should utilise some of the Systems Engineering/Soft Systems thinking ideas around requirements capture and the diagnosis of messy problems.
If you like, adopt a "pre DMAIC” phase to scope problem context, identify all the actors/players, understand the scope and boundaries of the problem and identify what we can and cannot influence. At present we are essentially dealing with an unbounded messy problem
This can be followed by an Analysis Phase applied to the current ("AS IS") CM process and modus operandi.
I suggest the following steps.
1 Map the E2E process utilising IDEF (0) notation - this could be turned into a "swim lane " model to indicate process flow across organisational units
IDEF 0 can used as the basis for "SIPOC" documentation with the process controls identified (Six Sigma SIPOC does not include process controls or feedback loop we need to be able to understand the feedback loops and "emergent properties" around the process interactions
2 Carryout FMECA analyses for each process step
3 If possible build a simple Cost of Quality model also identifying the costs of the Consequences of process failure and the cost of the root causes of process failure. I suspect we will only be able to get approximate data and costs (yellow and red box models)
4 Identify the CTQs (Critical to Quality ) must do an extension of
5 build a very simple QFD model (demonstrator)
6 use the above diagnosis and analysis as inputs into Jack’s CM strategy document.
Thoughts?
The Officer
I know exactly what my thoughts are, but in anything other than this blog they’d be unprintable.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Monday, May 23, 2005
A Pox on Mondays....
Is there one redeeming feature about Mondays? I can't think of a single one. I never sleep well on Sunday nights because no matter how hard I fight it, my mind slips into corporate arse-lick mode as I start to ponder the "challenges" (aka shite jobs) that The Sandman et al will push my way. The Bespectacled Guru has already asked me to drill down on his new SMART objectives and to provide "input to group status". Wow-fucking-wee, I can hardly contain my excitement. Also, his nickname is too long, so for now I shall be cruel and name him after another very obvious attribute - The Stumbler. Yep, he can't speak without stumbling over words. Everything is along the lines of "Ahhh..Jack...ummmm......aaaah...right.......yes......let's see......can you...........aaaaaah......ummmmmmm......aaaaaaahhhh......"
I think you get the picture.
He is NOT a stammerer, just some one with a technically brilliant mind who, as is a familiar trait amongst the clever, stumbles over the simplest of normal sentences. It must be something to do with a cluttered mind. The problem for me is I am bursting at the seams to complete his sentences. In fact I did just that today, but think I got away with it. Am I the only one with this urge? Its like when you talk to someone with a squint, I always have an urge to move from side to side to ensure at least one of their eyes can see me. The other thing with squints is that when I look at people with this condition, especially if bad then my eyes water, as if coming out in sympathy with the mal-adjusted set staring back at me. Eventually I end up with a squint from looking at them - I wonder if their eyes become straight and its some form of self rectification system built into eyes?
Anyway, I digress, Mondays are an arse day unless they are Bank Holidays. I need to think of something I can associate to Mondays that might make them attractive enough to make an effort in anything I do instead of the lethargic and sloth-like attitude I currently have.
One more thing - my glands under my jaw have swollen up again. And for 6 days now, my mouth has felt permanently ...dry. Almost like a few layers of skin have been taken away from inside it.
Monday Disease perhaps?
Later, Grocerjack
Is there one redeeming feature about Mondays? I can't think of a single one. I never sleep well on Sunday nights because no matter how hard I fight it, my mind slips into corporate arse-lick mode as I start to ponder the "challenges" (aka shite jobs) that The Sandman et al will push my way. The Bespectacled Guru has already asked me to drill down on his new SMART objectives and to provide "input to group status". Wow-fucking-wee, I can hardly contain my excitement. Also, his nickname is too long, so for now I shall be cruel and name him after another very obvious attribute - The Stumbler. Yep, he can't speak without stumbling over words. Everything is along the lines of "Ahhh..Jack...ummmm......aaaah...right.......yes......let's see......can you...........aaaaaah......ummmmmmm......aaaaaaahhhh......"
I think you get the picture.
He is NOT a stammerer, just some one with a technically brilliant mind who, as is a familiar trait amongst the clever, stumbles over the simplest of normal sentences. It must be something to do with a cluttered mind. The problem for me is I am bursting at the seams to complete his sentences. In fact I did just that today, but think I got away with it. Am I the only one with this urge? Its like when you talk to someone with a squint, I always have an urge to move from side to side to ensure at least one of their eyes can see me. The other thing with squints is that when I look at people with this condition, especially if bad then my eyes water, as if coming out in sympathy with the mal-adjusted set staring back at me. Eventually I end up with a squint from looking at them - I wonder if their eyes become straight and its some form of self rectification system built into eyes?
Anyway, I digress, Mondays are an arse day unless they are Bank Holidays. I need to think of something I can associate to Mondays that might make them attractive enough to make an effort in anything I do instead of the lethargic and sloth-like attitude I currently have.
One more thing - my glands under my jaw have swollen up again. And for 6 days now, my mouth has felt permanently ...dry. Almost like a few layers of skin have been taken away from inside it.
Monday Disease perhaps?
Later, Grocerjack
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Blurred reality......
The Department of Pipes, Tubes and Strings had its bi-annual off-site today. Typically, for The Company and errr...The Department of Pipes, Tubes and Strings, the off-site was on-site. I need to determine whether or not if we have an on-site day, whether it'll actually be on-site or whether it'll be off-site, perhaps at a local hotel.
The last off-site was also on-site, as was the last Change Managers Forum off-site. In fact that off-site was less than 100 yards from my desk. I guess they should really be called virtual off-site's but I always thought the idea of an off-site was to remove you from the day to day distractions of being on-site. Unfortunately in both these recent "virtual" off-sites I have been collared by The Sandman or The Mysterious M as if I was actually on-site. Which of course I was, physically.
Of course you can't say to someone on-site that you can't talk to them or help them as they get a rather bemused, not to say occasionally angry look about them when you tell them you're unable to talk because in effect you're not actually theredue to being off-site. The inevitable conversation ensues regarding their view that as you are physically standing in front of them, or sat trying to eat lunch that you are, in fact, actually on-site. Arguments then ensue about physical presence and virtual absence. I usually end up putting across the philosophical argument that in fact until existentialism is proven, the possibility remains that in fact none of us exist and that we are all the subject of the imagination of an evil genius. Or perhaps no-one exists except the owner of the mind and as yet we cannot categorically associate the mind as being the inevitable consequence of the physical body, or the body as being a necessary vessel to contain the mind. Until someone returns with the "Cogito ergo sum" (I think therefore I am) argument so eloquently devised by Descartes (but not without its detractors) its an argument only I can win. But that's because most people I work with are fuckwits unable to lift their tawdry lives above the philosophical arguments posed by The Sun each day.
Of course, another winning end game is "Fuck off you cretin, can't you see I'm at lunch?" but this is rarely used anywhere today in a society that believes the culture of interruption is the behavioural norm, and that no-ones time is their own. Believe me, no-ones time is their own.
Maybe I'm mad but the object looks well and truly defeated when this off-site actually occurs on-site, and is therefore a virtual off-site. In fact, if I were the object, I'm not sure I'd even start the battle.
Later , GrocerJack
The Department of Pipes, Tubes and Strings had its bi-annual off-site today. Typically, for The Company and errr...The Department of Pipes, Tubes and Strings, the off-site was on-site. I need to determine whether or not if we have an on-site day, whether it'll actually be on-site or whether it'll be off-site, perhaps at a local hotel.
The last off-site was also on-site, as was the last Change Managers Forum off-site. In fact that off-site was less than 100 yards from my desk. I guess they should really be called virtual off-site's but I always thought the idea of an off-site was to remove you from the day to day distractions of being on-site. Unfortunately in both these recent "virtual" off-sites I have been collared by The Sandman or The Mysterious M as if I was actually on-site. Which of course I was, physically.
Of course you can't say to someone on-site that you can't talk to them or help them as they get a rather bemused, not to say occasionally angry look about them when you tell them you're unable to talk because in effect you're not actually theredue to being off-site. The inevitable conversation ensues regarding their view that as you are physically standing in front of them, or sat trying to eat lunch that you are, in fact, actually on-site. Arguments then ensue about physical presence and virtual absence. I usually end up putting across the philosophical argument that in fact until existentialism is proven, the possibility remains that in fact none of us exist and that we are all the subject of the imagination of an evil genius. Or perhaps no-one exists except the owner of the mind and as yet we cannot categorically associate the mind as being the inevitable consequence of the physical body, or the body as being a necessary vessel to contain the mind. Until someone returns with the "Cogito ergo sum" (I think therefore I am) argument so eloquently devised by Descartes (but not without its detractors) its an argument only I can win. But that's because most people I work with are fuckwits unable to lift their tawdry lives above the philosophical arguments posed by The Sun each day.
Of course, another winning end game is "Fuck off you cretin, can't you see I'm at lunch?" but this is rarely used anywhere today in a society that believes the culture of interruption is the behavioural norm, and that no-ones time is their own. Believe me, no-ones time is their own.
Maybe I'm mad but the object looks well and truly defeated when this off-site actually occurs on-site, and is therefore a virtual off-site. In fact, if I were the object, I'm not sure I'd even start the battle.
Later , GrocerJack
Death is too good.....
....for the evil, vindictive, sadistic, greedy, immoral fuckers who devised the "Crazy Frog" ringtone and then decided to advertise it at every opportunity on every channel. And now what? Yep, the fickers have jazzed it up by mixing it with the theme from Beverly Hills Cop. Cunts. Furthermore, the two "cute" little chicks ringtone is just as pernicious and annoying. Undoubtedly these wankers who are devising and marketing this craze have no compassion or soul or morals. I want to stamp on the crazy fucking frog and shoot the "cute" chicks from the sky. In fact if ever there was an advert for more battery farmed eggs then these little shits are it.
When will people learn that crazy is a euphemism for "sad and lonely", and cute is a euphemism for "mentally retarded".
Except when "cute" is applied to Jennifer Aniston's arse.
And "crazy" is applied to Boris Johnson.
Later, GrocerJack
....for the evil, vindictive, sadistic, greedy, immoral fuckers who devised the "Crazy Frog" ringtone and then decided to advertise it at every opportunity on every channel. And now what? Yep, the fickers have jazzed it up by mixing it with the theme from Beverly Hills Cop. Cunts. Furthermore, the two "cute" little chicks ringtone is just as pernicious and annoying. Undoubtedly these wankers who are devising and marketing this craze have no compassion or soul or morals. I want to stamp on the crazy fucking frog and shoot the "cute" chicks from the sky. In fact if ever there was an advert for more battery farmed eggs then these little shits are it.
When will people learn that crazy is a euphemism for "sad and lonely", and cute is a euphemism for "mentally retarded".
Except when "cute" is applied to Jennifer Aniston's arse.
And "crazy" is applied to Boris Johnson.
Later, GrocerJack
Confused......
I finally sat down and watched the highly rated "Donnie Darko" last night.
Confused? You bet your arse. One of those films I need to watch again to even begin to understand what it was about. What I do know is that despite not understanding it anywhere near fully, I did find it compelling and not a little disturbing. And that interests me and challenges me. I am the type who generally goes for linear films with simple stories and a beginning, middle and end. My all time favourite film ever "Pulp Fiction" shattered my own illusions about what I really enjoy, with its non linear timeline and crossover stories. The fact is that I still like the simple stuff, but equally enjoy the weird or offbeat stuff as well. Donnie Darko fits firmly in both those categories.
I need to go and lie down in a darkened room to work out what I think I just watched.
Later, GrocerJack
I finally sat down and watched the highly rated "Donnie Darko" last night.
Confused? You bet your arse. One of those films I need to watch again to even begin to understand what it was about. What I do know is that despite not understanding it anywhere near fully, I did find it compelling and not a little disturbing. And that interests me and challenges me. I am the type who generally goes for linear films with simple stories and a beginning, middle and end. My all time favourite film ever "Pulp Fiction" shattered my own illusions about what I really enjoy, with its non linear timeline and crossover stories. The fact is that I still like the simple stuff, but equally enjoy the weird or offbeat stuff as well. Donnie Darko fits firmly in both those categories.
I need to go and lie down in a darkened room to work out what I think I just watched.
Later, GrocerJack
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Fighting Talk.....
He is simply the most obnoxious, self centred, pig ignorant MP this country has ever seen. he is a shite constituency MP because he is too busy involving himself in the affairs of Iraq or wherever takes his fancy. He pissed most of the UK off with his constant apparent consorting with the murderous butcher Saddam Hussein. He is proud of ousting on of the only black woman MP's from her seat in Bethnal Green and Bow. He formed his party, Respect, in order to rally the anti-war vote. Personally I dislike both him and his politics, especially his faux-socialist policies and his pro-life/anti-abortion views. Plus, he is an absolute misery guts with no apparent sense of humour.
But whatever you or I think of George Galloway , you cannot deny that he is news, and he is utterly committed to his views. I watched in absolute fascination as he single handedly took on the US Senate yesterday and left both Senators Coleman and Levin (pro-war, anti - respectively) absolutely floundering at his attack on the US government, its policies and US companies trading in Iraq. His attack on Rumsfeld was frankly fucking superb, outlining brilliantly that he had visted Saddam as many times as Rumsfeld, but HADN'T sold him guns and maps "the better with which to target his guns".
The yanks are obviously not use to this level of open and honest polticial discussion, but to me it showed the best of adversarial and argumentative British politics, even with one of the single most dislikeable people we have in government. Watch the highlights on the BBC web site here and marvel at his complete and utter intransigence when being asked questions by the two senators.
Also, try downloading or listening to the excellent 5 Live Fighting Talk election special. The BBC (again showing real licence value for money) let you download certain shows to your PC, or MP3 player for subsequent listening. Fighting Talk, hosted by the increasingly funny Christian O' Connell is now required listening in the Jack household each Saturday morning. Its worth downloading last weeks normal edition as well, both are laugh out loud funny...as the rest of my office discovered yesterday as I laughed loud and long at both.
Later GrocerJack
He is simply the most obnoxious, self centred, pig ignorant MP this country has ever seen. he is a shite constituency MP because he is too busy involving himself in the affairs of Iraq or wherever takes his fancy. He pissed most of the UK off with his constant apparent consorting with the murderous butcher Saddam Hussein. He is proud of ousting on of the only black woman MP's from her seat in Bethnal Green and Bow. He formed his party, Respect, in order to rally the anti-war vote. Personally I dislike both him and his politics, especially his faux-socialist policies and his pro-life/anti-abortion views. Plus, he is an absolute misery guts with no apparent sense of humour.
But whatever you or I think of George Galloway , you cannot deny that he is news, and he is utterly committed to his views. I watched in absolute fascination as he single handedly took on the US Senate yesterday and left both Senators Coleman and Levin (pro-war, anti - respectively) absolutely floundering at his attack on the US government, its policies and US companies trading in Iraq. His attack on Rumsfeld was frankly fucking superb, outlining brilliantly that he had visted Saddam as many times as Rumsfeld, but HADN'T sold him guns and maps "the better with which to target his guns".
The yanks are obviously not use to this level of open and honest polticial discussion, but to me it showed the best of adversarial and argumentative British politics, even with one of the single most dislikeable people we have in government. Watch the highlights on the BBC web site here and marvel at his complete and utter intransigence when being asked questions by the two senators.
Also, try downloading or listening to the excellent 5 Live Fighting Talk election special. The BBC (again showing real licence value for money) let you download certain shows to your PC, or MP3 player for subsequent listening. Fighting Talk, hosted by the increasingly funny Christian O' Connell is now required listening in the Jack household each Saturday morning. Its worth downloading last weeks normal edition as well, both are laugh out loud funny...as the rest of my office discovered yesterday as I laughed loud and long at both.
Later GrocerJack
Of course I was WFH.....
WFH - an acronym for "working from home". So fucked off am I at the moment with the corpoaret goobledygook bollocks talk at work, and the continuous shafting of myself and oters like me I decided to take the fuckers for everything I can get. Nothing against The Company per se, more a way of cocking a snook at The Sandman et al for their piss poor management of people and lack of commonsense or intelligence.
I work for The Muppets @.
So, on Monday I "worked from home".
Of course this would be on a planet where "working from home" means playing golf with mates in a competition and then going for a slap up meal in the evening.
Childish and puerile it may be, and in the league of rebellious actions it might be small fry, but it's my own small rebellion against the people who manage a part of my life....badly.
Later, TigerJack
WFH - an acronym for "working from home". So fucked off am I at the moment with the corpoaret goobledygook bollocks talk at work, and the continuous shafting of myself and oters like me I decided to take the fuckers for everything I can get. Nothing against The Company per se, more a way of cocking a snook at The Sandman et al for their piss poor management of people and lack of commonsense or intelligence.
I work for The Muppets @.
So, on Monday I "worked from home".
Of course this would be on a planet where "working from home" means playing golf with mates in a competition and then going for a slap up meal in the evening.
Childish and puerile it may be, and in the league of rebellious actions it might be small fry, but it's my own small rebellion against the people who manage a part of my life....badly.
Later, TigerJack
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
A Touch of Reality....
Kylie Minogue's cancer has genuinely shocked me. I'm no great fan of her work, although Can't Get You Out of My Head must feature as one of the all time great pure pop songs - I must do a list of great pure pop songs. I liked her flirtation with King Miseryguts, Nick Cave a few years ago. A brave move decried by her fans but appreciated by the likes of me who was only too happy to see someone challenge themselves. At 36, and frankly looking fantastic she is very young to cop this bastard and my mind wanders back to the shock of hearing about Caron Keating's sad death. But Kylie is undoubtedly fit and presumably healthy in every other aspect, plus they have discovered this very early. It doesn't guarantee a successful conclusion but it will enhance her chances of survival. Even a cynical old bastard like me, who abhores the current celebrity culture can feel genuine shock and dismay at this news and I hope she will recover, as I would any other person being diagnosed with this shitbag disease.
Maybe, just maybe the world of obsessive faux celebrity might just realise that sometimes there are more important things than being pictured in the "right" place/with the "right" person/supporting the "right" cause in order to enhance their mostly talentless capability and plastic credibility.
I won't hold my breath waiting though.
Later, GrocerJack
Kylie Minogue's cancer has genuinely shocked me. I'm no great fan of her work, although Can't Get You Out of My Head must feature as one of the all time great pure pop songs - I must do a list of great pure pop songs. I liked her flirtation with King Miseryguts, Nick Cave a few years ago. A brave move decried by her fans but appreciated by the likes of me who was only too happy to see someone challenge themselves. At 36, and frankly looking fantastic she is very young to cop this bastard and my mind wanders back to the shock of hearing about Caron Keating's sad death. But Kylie is undoubtedly fit and presumably healthy in every other aspect, plus they have discovered this very early. It doesn't guarantee a successful conclusion but it will enhance her chances of survival. Even a cynical old bastard like me, who abhores the current celebrity culture can feel genuine shock and dismay at this news and I hope she will recover, as I would any other person being diagnosed with this shitbag disease.
Maybe, just maybe the world of obsessive faux celebrity might just realise that sometimes there are more important things than being pictured in the "right" place/with the "right" person/supporting the "right" cause in order to enhance their mostly talentless capability and plastic credibility.
I won't hold my breath waiting though.
Later, GrocerJack
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Friday, May 13, 2005
Live by the sword.....
Ho hum - Manchester United have been bought by a ginger bespectacled "tycoon". And by all accounts the fans aren't very happy, all the way from the celeb fans to humble working class people who pay their money each week to watch their heroes in the alleged Theatre of Dreams (although after we thumped them 3-1 the other night on their own hallowed turf, I expect the Theatre of Nightmares was better suited to the place).
I am a football fan at heart and understand its place in local communities precisely. I understand the sense of local pride the teams can generate and their ability to bond communities together to watch their heroes take on the world. Or their neighbouring club - bragging rights is a powerful concept and you always like to feel that your on the winning side. Its very tribal, and hence the passion of the fans is not matched by ANY other sport. Not Rugby (no matter how much they protest, a union/league club game does not generate the atmosphere of a Conference league football game) , nor cricket, nor F1, not basketball, baseball or anything. Its a fact, accept it.
What I find amusing about this is that the bleating fans of this institution have happily sat back over the ensuing years since this club decided to expand way beyond the local community and it's real fans and prostitute itself to the pimp that is the Stock Market. Oh yes, they were only too happy that the club would reap the benefits of shareholders money in order to finance its push into Eastern markets, to grow its global fan base, to make it a global brand. To conquer the world.
Oh how they smiled as the money rolled in, the players signed up, the trophies weighed the cabinet down. But the price was already becoming obvious. The real fans found their ground invaded by the "Glory Hunters" - fans from far off places seduced by the global brand, and the power of this rich whore's sporting success. Munching on their prawn sandwiches and polluting the rich north western accent with Estuary English. The club sold its soul to the devil of capitalism, and whilst the short term gains were success, admiration, a growing international fan base and kudos, that avenue of hedonism has finally delivered the bill.
As with any Satanic deal there is a sting, a forfeit, a payback. Today for Manchester United the tiger of capitalism and the stock market they once rode with bareback abandon has turned and bit them as Malcolm Glazer finally wrests control of the club from its amalgam of former owners. You see that's the price of being a public limited company. You become vulnerable to any rich megalomaniac or benefactor that sees the business sense of owning you. Glazer isn't a fan, he has no emotional investment in the club. He sees a money making opportunity and a chance to expand an empire. He has the sons to take over the business when the clogs finally pop, and like any good Caesar he has named his successor (his son Joel).
And now the fans whinge. They cry about being sold out buy the board. Errr...yes exactly, very succinctly put. They chant "United Not for Sale"...errr...but it was. They burn season tickets to prove their loyalty (surely that can't be next seasons tickets can it....because that just shows stupidity and too much cash free) and now some are threatening to form a "new United" built on the values that have taken this 125 year old institution to where it is now. Oh, so you'll float it eventually will you, walk away with tons of cash and sit back when a Yankee egg chaser, big peanut hugging club "tycoon/supremo/ cheese" comes in and asset strips you.
The level of hypocrisy is astounding. I don't actually recall Shareholders United ever going on TV or Radio and declaring their ultimate goal to turn the club into a fans co-operative. I don't recall any howls of objection when the "public offering" was made available, but I did hear the clamour of "real fans" running to buy shares in their club and share in the success by making a few quid. I have friends who are fans, and very nice people they are as well but even they must admit that you can't have it both ways, take the Stock Market cash, but become invulnerable to any form of takeover. You see we all know that when you walk down Flotation Avenue, turn into Stock Market Listing Street, take a right into Shareholder Cash Close, past GloryHunter Towers, through Global Brand Park, you inevitably end up in Takeover Grove. Next stop - Asset Stripped Gardens.
And don't even start comparing this to my beloved Chelsea. Football fans are irrational. I like Roman Abramovich. I like his money. I don't fucking care how he got it, no-one can prove he is guilty of anything other than opportunism. Name me one multi-billionaire who hasn't exploited people or resources ruthlessly at some point. You don't get filthy rich by being nice. Chelsea don't compare to this, because we never whinged when we were on the verge of bankruptcy through the 70's and just before Roman took over. No-one gave a shit about us when we played in a decrepit, crumbling old ground. No-one cared when we won fuck all. What we hear now said about is nothing but the politics of envy. Ken Bates floated us on AIM, which is bit like asking a vagrant to give you money for a cup of tea. We are now a rich mans plaything and long may it continue. After 33 years of pain, I now follow a successful team (not before time). A team I supported when we were playing teams like Carlisle in front of 8000 fans. I am NOT a glory hunter. We now have them as well, and good luck to them, but if Roman dies or sells we are a private club with no debt and the Glory Hunter contribution can disappear as quickly as it came. .
A telling point here. I have been to several last home games. At Chelsea the players do a lap of appreciation irrespective of our seasons standings in league or cups. At each one of these the fans have stayed and cheered and supported. Its a celebration no matter what. On Tuesday night after Manchester United had suffered yet another clinical surgical dissection by a London club (Arsenal have already done them 3 times this season) the Manchester United players did the same thing, a lap of appreciation/honour. Only the difference was that the stadium was near empty as disconsolate glory hunters departed to join those who had fucked off 20 minutes before the game had finished. It is estimated that about 7000 remained. In a 70,000 seater stadium, its a bit like being the only one in rock concert by U2. I actually sympathized with the United players, who seemed united in their abject misery. Whatever is going wrong at United the fans should look elsewhere than Glazer and company, Something rotten set in years ago. Alex Ferguson, as magnanimous as he was to us on Tuesday must be bemused as to what's gone wrong, both with his expensively gathered group of players (who cost over twice as much as the 11 we played against them on Tuesday night) and the Manchester United machine in general.
So, in summary. Am I sorry for the fans? Only those genuine ones who maybe railed against the flotation. Those who grew up around the club and live and breathe Manchester United. When you look hard only 2000 turned up to protest last night. This morning on 5Live, their reporter stated that she'd only seen 3 protestors arrive by 8 'o' clock and then they'd gone away. Maybe that says it all about the realistic levels of indignation allegedly being spouted from this city. But for the rest, well I'm afraid you reap what you sow and the Board, the gloryhunters, the accountants and the marketing people can only stand by and hope that this doesn't mean the end.
As a Chelsea fan who has had to put up with the crowing and arrogance of this club and its celeb fans, ex-players and gloryhunter contingent over the last 10 years the truth is I couldn't give a flying fuck what happens to the club. I have a feeling its new American benefactor may attach the same level of compassion as well.
Later, ChelseaJack
Ho hum - Manchester United have been bought by a ginger bespectacled "tycoon". And by all accounts the fans aren't very happy, all the way from the celeb fans to humble working class people who pay their money each week to watch their heroes in the alleged Theatre of Dreams (although after we thumped them 3-1 the other night on their own hallowed turf, I expect the Theatre of Nightmares was better suited to the place).
I am a football fan at heart and understand its place in local communities precisely. I understand the sense of local pride the teams can generate and their ability to bond communities together to watch their heroes take on the world. Or their neighbouring club - bragging rights is a powerful concept and you always like to feel that your on the winning side. Its very tribal, and hence the passion of the fans is not matched by ANY other sport. Not Rugby (no matter how much they protest, a union/league club game does not generate the atmosphere of a Conference league football game) , nor cricket, nor F1, not basketball, baseball or anything. Its a fact, accept it.
What I find amusing about this is that the bleating fans of this institution have happily sat back over the ensuing years since this club decided to expand way beyond the local community and it's real fans and prostitute itself to the pimp that is the Stock Market. Oh yes, they were only too happy that the club would reap the benefits of shareholders money in order to finance its push into Eastern markets, to grow its global fan base, to make it a global brand. To conquer the world.
Oh how they smiled as the money rolled in, the players signed up, the trophies weighed the cabinet down. But the price was already becoming obvious. The real fans found their ground invaded by the "Glory Hunters" - fans from far off places seduced by the global brand, and the power of this rich whore's sporting success. Munching on their prawn sandwiches and polluting the rich north western accent with Estuary English. The club sold its soul to the devil of capitalism, and whilst the short term gains were success, admiration, a growing international fan base and kudos, that avenue of hedonism has finally delivered the bill.
As with any Satanic deal there is a sting, a forfeit, a payback. Today for Manchester United the tiger of capitalism and the stock market they once rode with bareback abandon has turned and bit them as Malcolm Glazer finally wrests control of the club from its amalgam of former owners. You see that's the price of being a public limited company. You become vulnerable to any rich megalomaniac or benefactor that sees the business sense of owning you. Glazer isn't a fan, he has no emotional investment in the club. He sees a money making opportunity and a chance to expand an empire. He has the sons to take over the business when the clogs finally pop, and like any good Caesar he has named his successor (his son Joel).
And now the fans whinge. They cry about being sold out buy the board. Errr...yes exactly, very succinctly put. They chant "United Not for Sale"...errr...but it was. They burn season tickets to prove their loyalty (surely that can't be next seasons tickets can it....because that just shows stupidity and too much cash free) and now some are threatening to form a "new United" built on the values that have taken this 125 year old institution to where it is now. Oh, so you'll float it eventually will you, walk away with tons of cash and sit back when a Yankee egg chaser, big peanut hugging club "tycoon/supremo/ cheese" comes in and asset strips you.
The level of hypocrisy is astounding. I don't actually recall Shareholders United ever going on TV or Radio and declaring their ultimate goal to turn the club into a fans co-operative. I don't recall any howls of objection when the "public offering" was made available, but I did hear the clamour of "real fans" running to buy shares in their club and share in the success by making a few quid. I have friends who are fans, and very nice people they are as well but even they must admit that you can't have it both ways, take the Stock Market cash, but become invulnerable to any form of takeover. You see we all know that when you walk down Flotation Avenue, turn into Stock Market Listing Street, take a right into Shareholder Cash Close, past GloryHunter Towers, through Global Brand Park, you inevitably end up in Takeover Grove. Next stop - Asset Stripped Gardens.
And don't even start comparing this to my beloved Chelsea. Football fans are irrational. I like Roman Abramovich. I like his money. I don't fucking care how he got it, no-one can prove he is guilty of anything other than opportunism. Name me one multi-billionaire who hasn't exploited people or resources ruthlessly at some point. You don't get filthy rich by being nice. Chelsea don't compare to this, because we never whinged when we were on the verge of bankruptcy through the 70's and just before Roman took over. No-one gave a shit about us when we played in a decrepit, crumbling old ground. No-one cared when we won fuck all. What we hear now said about is nothing but the politics of envy. Ken Bates floated us on AIM, which is bit like asking a vagrant to give you money for a cup of tea. We are now a rich mans plaything and long may it continue. After 33 years of pain, I now follow a successful team (not before time). A team I supported when we were playing teams like Carlisle in front of 8000 fans. I am NOT a glory hunter. We now have them as well, and good luck to them, but if Roman dies or sells we are a private club with no debt and the Glory Hunter contribution can disappear as quickly as it came. .
A telling point here. I have been to several last home games. At Chelsea the players do a lap of appreciation irrespective of our seasons standings in league or cups. At each one of these the fans have stayed and cheered and supported. Its a celebration no matter what. On Tuesday night after Manchester United had suffered yet another clinical surgical dissection by a London club (Arsenal have already done them 3 times this season) the Manchester United players did the same thing, a lap of appreciation/honour. Only the difference was that the stadium was near empty as disconsolate glory hunters departed to join those who had fucked off 20 minutes before the game had finished. It is estimated that about 7000 remained. In a 70,000 seater stadium, its a bit like being the only one in rock concert by U2. I actually sympathized with the United players, who seemed united in their abject misery. Whatever is going wrong at United the fans should look elsewhere than Glazer and company, Something rotten set in years ago. Alex Ferguson, as magnanimous as he was to us on Tuesday must be bemused as to what's gone wrong, both with his expensively gathered group of players (who cost over twice as much as the 11 we played against them on Tuesday night) and the Manchester United machine in general.
So, in summary. Am I sorry for the fans? Only those genuine ones who maybe railed against the flotation. Those who grew up around the club and live and breathe Manchester United. When you look hard only 2000 turned up to protest last night. This morning on 5Live, their reporter stated that she'd only seen 3 protestors arrive by 8 'o' clock and then they'd gone away. Maybe that says it all about the realistic levels of indignation allegedly being spouted from this city. But for the rest, well I'm afraid you reap what you sow and the Board, the gloryhunters, the accountants and the marketing people can only stand by and hope that this doesn't mean the end.
As a Chelsea fan who has had to put up with the crowing and arrogance of this club and its celeb fans, ex-players and gloryhunter contingent over the last 10 years the truth is I couldn't give a flying fuck what happens to the club. I have a feeling its new American benefactor may attach the same level of compassion as well.
Later, ChelseaJack
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Fancy that
Funny, today and yesterday The Sandman has decided I was suddenly indispensable. Hypocritical bastard. One day I'm not quite the right level for him, the next I'm the Dogs Bollocks.
Why is this?
Because he's had his fat fucking arse kicked from above because The Company's Pipes, Tubes and Strings have suffered a few issues lately, and our beloved (sic!) customers are whinging. Whats new there then? Personally I think customers are ungrateful fuckers, who want everything now and to pay fuck all for it. We strive to provide something close, but when "service" is affected well, you kind of get what you pay for you fucking morons.
So last night at ten past fucking ten I got a call from the two faced bastard.
"Jack, how you doing mate?"
"Fine Sandman, just fine" Jack says ("Fuck off you fat shitbag" Jack thinks)
"Bet you're happy about Chelsea then huh? What ateam, what a season!"
"Yeah, pretty good. Never thought \I'd see it personally" Jack says ("You know fuck all about football so shut the fuck up" Jack thinks)
"Yeah, Come on The Blues.....anyway...." (Yeah, lay it on you slimy wanker" Jack thinks)
".........We have a few issues and I need you to pull some info together for a report I'm producing to act as a defence"
"Oh right, sounds serious, you know me, Ill do what I can" Jack says ("Christ, you coward" Jack thinks)
"Cool, I knew I could rely on you. Never let me down have you Jack? Good bloke Jack"
"Ok, give me the details then Sandman" Jack says ("Fuck me, why not ring your arse with Vaseline and bend over for the bastard, you cowardly twat" Jack thinks)
I won't bore you with the details but effectively I've just done a 14 hour day in front of a screen, getting statistics together, manipulating data, benchmarking trends, forecasting futures blah blah blah. Yep, in fact I've allowed myself to be metaphorically roasted by Sandman and The Bespectacled Guru. All because I'm a coward. Too cowardly to tell them how I feel. Too cowardly to tell them what I think, of them, the job and The Company. Too cowardly because I need their filth laden lucre each month. Too cowardly because I don't know how to do anything else. Too cowardly because GMD would remove some vital organs (that only men have) if I did do something and lose my job/walk out.
But then i think to myself that all of this shite pays for 3 holidays per year, a decent-ish car, golf, football, beers down The Pub and all of my other indulgences. Is it worth it? Who knows, but for the meantime I'll milk every fucking penny I can from the bastards, and I'll smile as they take it in turns to penetrate me with the Corporate Cock, safe in the knowledge that one day, none of this will matter.
Later, GrocerJack
Funny, today and yesterday The Sandman has decided I was suddenly indispensable. Hypocritical bastard. One day I'm not quite the right level for him, the next I'm the Dogs Bollocks.
Why is this?
Because he's had his fat fucking arse kicked from above because The Company's Pipes, Tubes and Strings have suffered a few issues lately, and our beloved (sic!) customers are whinging. Whats new there then? Personally I think customers are ungrateful fuckers, who want everything now and to pay fuck all for it. We strive to provide something close, but when "service" is affected well, you kind of get what you pay for you fucking morons.
So last night at ten past fucking ten I got a call from the two faced bastard.
"Jack, how you doing mate?"
"Fine Sandman, just fine" Jack says ("Fuck off you fat shitbag" Jack thinks)
"Bet you're happy about Chelsea then huh? What ateam, what a season!"
"Yeah, pretty good. Never thought \I'd see it personally" Jack says ("You know fuck all about football so shut the fuck up" Jack thinks)
"Yeah, Come on The Blues.....anyway...." (Yeah, lay it on you slimy wanker" Jack thinks)
".........We have a few issues and I need you to pull some info together for a report I'm producing to act as a defence"
"Oh right, sounds serious, you know me, Ill do what I can" Jack says ("Christ, you coward" Jack thinks)
"Cool, I knew I could rely on you. Never let me down have you Jack? Good bloke Jack"
"Ok, give me the details then Sandman" Jack says ("Fuck me, why not ring your arse with Vaseline and bend over for the bastard, you cowardly twat" Jack thinks)
I won't bore you with the details but effectively I've just done a 14 hour day in front of a screen, getting statistics together, manipulating data, benchmarking trends, forecasting futures blah blah blah. Yep, in fact I've allowed myself to be metaphorically roasted by Sandman and The Bespectacled Guru. All because I'm a coward. Too cowardly to tell them how I feel. Too cowardly to tell them what I think, of them, the job and The Company. Too cowardly because I need their filth laden lucre each month. Too cowardly because I don't know how to do anything else. Too cowardly because GMD would remove some vital organs (that only men have) if I did do something and lose my job/walk out.
But then i think to myself that all of this shite pays for 3 holidays per year, a decent-ish car, golf, football, beers down The Pub and all of my other indulgences. Is it worth it? Who knows, but for the meantime I'll milk every fucking penny I can from the bastards, and I'll smile as they take it in turns to penetrate me with the Corporate Cock, safe in the knowledge that one day, none of this will matter.
Later, GrocerJack
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Shafted again......
So, I know I said I just wanted to keep my head down at work and not attract any attention. That way I could bumble through the next 12 years until I'm 55 and with any luck The Company would then decide I was surplus to requirements and let me have early retirement. Of course , my hypocrisy where work is concerned has been well documented on this site (the future of which I am considering simply because my anonymity has been lost and therefore my freedom to write and say what I really want has been compromised) as I veer between Corporate Arse-licker and covert rebel.
An identity crisis I think its called. But, in my case it seems mixed in with a mid-life crisis. Who am I then? The rebel who doesn't give a shit or the arse-licker who secretly wants to get on and "develop" his career? The blog writer who wonders why his hit rate is not what it was, or the blog writer who doesn't care about "ratings" and writes in order to preserve his sanity in a dull and corporate, soundbite, homogenised, risk averse world of work?
Yesterday, the Mysterious M, a man I have grown to like,respect and admire announced he is leaving. Belive me, I never thought I'd work for someone who could make me like, respect and admire them again. The Mysterious M has been promoted to a level 3 role in another part of the Company. So, all the good work I have done is now in the "objective" hands of New Manager, the Bespectacled Guru, and the reason possibly why my work related contentment level has increased is leaving. I feel betrayed, as if The Mysterious M has been disloyal in some way.
And I wasn't even considered. 3 years of Operational shite working under pressure, taking the kickings and the brickbats, delivering exactly what I was asked to against all the odds, rewarded with a fucking planning job which stretched me for....ooooh ....a week back in November perhaps, and further rewarded by that cunt The Sandman with a wave of his hand and "Jack has potential and experience, but I need someone to hit the ground running in this role" bullshit brush off. The rebel wouldn't care, but the other half just thinks What Have I Done That Is So Wrong?
Is it a sulk? You're damn fucking right it is. A big fucking sulk. My fucking sulk. A sulk caused by a simple change at work that has me considering just about every aspect of my life. Christ, is this what happens as you get older? Is it the subconscious realisation that as I get older I have less time to make my mark? Has this simple act of apparently beoing overlooked just stirred those feelings of mortality and lack of fulfillment?
I always recall the lines to The Who's song "Won't Get Fooled Again" ..."Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss" a line designed to hit out at how things never change for the better, but in my case all I can hope for is The Bespectacled Guru is the same as the The Mysterious M, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Today is a bad day.
And so I will consider if Grocerjack should resign the commission on this blog and restart everything with the vengeance and frustration on a completely anonymous site. Or perhaps Grocerjack is the good side of my increasingly Jekyll and Hyde character. I may use this site to comment wryly on things, whilst venting the darker stuff elsewhere.
Time to think.
PS - Manchester Utd will tonight form a guard of honour for my beloved Chelsea when we walk out onto their pitch as newly crowned Champions tonight. Bloody Hell, thats the most magnanimous sporting act I've known in football for some time. Hats off to Sir Alex Ferguson then. You've just gone up a few notches in my estimation.
Later, who knows when, Grocerjack
So, I know I said I just wanted to keep my head down at work and not attract any attention. That way I could bumble through the next 12 years until I'm 55 and with any luck The Company would then decide I was surplus to requirements and let me have early retirement. Of course , my hypocrisy where work is concerned has been well documented on this site (the future of which I am considering simply because my anonymity has been lost and therefore my freedom to write and say what I really want has been compromised) as I veer between Corporate Arse-licker and covert rebel.
An identity crisis I think its called. But, in my case it seems mixed in with a mid-life crisis. Who am I then? The rebel who doesn't give a shit or the arse-licker who secretly wants to get on and "develop" his career? The blog writer who wonders why his hit rate is not what it was, or the blog writer who doesn't care about "ratings" and writes in order to preserve his sanity in a dull and corporate, soundbite, homogenised, risk averse world of work?
Yesterday, the Mysterious M, a man I have grown to like,respect and admire announced he is leaving. Belive me, I never thought I'd work for someone who could make me like, respect and admire them again. The Mysterious M has been promoted to a level 3 role in another part of the Company. So, all the good work I have done is now in the "objective" hands of New Manager, the Bespectacled Guru, and the reason possibly why my work related contentment level has increased is leaving. I feel betrayed, as if The Mysterious M has been disloyal in some way.
And I wasn't even considered. 3 years of Operational shite working under pressure, taking the kickings and the brickbats, delivering exactly what I was asked to against all the odds, rewarded with a fucking planning job which stretched me for....ooooh ....a week back in November perhaps, and further rewarded by that cunt The Sandman with a wave of his hand and "Jack has potential and experience, but I need someone to hit the ground running in this role" bullshit brush off. The rebel wouldn't care, but the other half just thinks What Have I Done That Is So Wrong?
Is it a sulk? You're damn fucking right it is. A big fucking sulk. My fucking sulk. A sulk caused by a simple change at work that has me considering just about every aspect of my life. Christ, is this what happens as you get older? Is it the subconscious realisation that as I get older I have less time to make my mark? Has this simple act of apparently beoing overlooked just stirred those feelings of mortality and lack of fulfillment?
I always recall the lines to The Who's song "Won't Get Fooled Again" ..."Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss" a line designed to hit out at how things never change for the better, but in my case all I can hope for is The Bespectacled Guru is the same as the The Mysterious M, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Today is a bad day.
And so I will consider if Grocerjack should resign the commission on this blog and restart everything with the vengeance and frustration on a completely anonymous site. Or perhaps Grocerjack is the good side of my increasingly Jekyll and Hyde character. I may use this site to comment wryly on things, whilst venting the darker stuff elsewhere.
Time to think.
PS - Manchester Utd will tonight form a guard of honour for my beloved Chelsea when we walk out onto their pitch as newly crowned Champions tonight. Bloody Hell, thats the most magnanimous sporting act I've known in football for some time. Hats off to Sir Alex Ferguson then. You've just gone up a few notches in my estimation.
Later, who knows when, Grocerjack
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Points of View
It wasn't a goal
We need a striker - Kezman should be selling kebabs at Chelsea not playing for them
Milan will beat Liverpool in the final
Liverpool haven't won anything this season yet - so stop crowing until you do you scouse gobshites
We haven't "bought" the premiership - we've spent the equivalent amount of money as Manure and Airline FC's just in a shorter period of time
Do I care where Abramovich got his wealth? Do I fuck! Are you telling me the owners of the other clubs didn't "exploit" people in some way to get their riches?
Tradition and history count for fuck all - just because your past is glorious does not give you the right to a glorious future, nor do you have any divine right to win trophies
Mourinho is arrogant - nothing wrong with that as long as you're right - and he is most of the time
Everyone else is just fucking jealous
The Tories will lose the election
Michael Howard DOES have "something of the night" about him
Labour will win with a reduced majority (around 50)
Robert Kilroy-Silk - why, just fucking why?
Because a labour vote is lost where I live I will vote for Lib Dem - plus she's a babe which is a bonus (yes, I know its shallow but thats what comes of being a member of the GoGB)
I will update the rules of the GoGB shortly
WMD or no WMD the war was justified. Saddam is a cunt and needed to be removed. Otherwise we have learnt nothing from the Holocaust or WWII
Hasn't America been quiet about our election - or is it that they just don't know we exist?
Give Question Time to Paxman - Dimbleby is too slow and polite.
If several thousand IBM employees lose their jobs as looks likely - will the government set up a similar aid package as they gave to MG Rover (what do you think?)
Sky News - is it me or could this be called The Sun TV?
ITV Sport - just fuck off and leave sport to those who genuinely can cover it.
Later, GrocerJack
It wasn't a goal
We need a striker - Kezman should be selling kebabs at Chelsea not playing for them
Milan will beat Liverpool in the final
Liverpool haven't won anything this season yet - so stop crowing until you do you scouse gobshites
We haven't "bought" the premiership - we've spent the equivalent amount of money as Manure and Airline FC's just in a shorter period of time
Do I care where Abramovich got his wealth? Do I fuck! Are you telling me the owners of the other clubs didn't "exploit" people in some way to get their riches?
Tradition and history count for fuck all - just because your past is glorious does not give you the right to a glorious future, nor do you have any divine right to win trophies
Mourinho is arrogant - nothing wrong with that as long as you're right - and he is most of the time
Everyone else is just fucking jealous
The Tories will lose the election
Michael Howard DOES have "something of the night" about him
Labour will win with a reduced majority (around 50)
Robert Kilroy-Silk - why, just fucking why?
Because a labour vote is lost where I live I will vote for Lib Dem - plus she's a babe which is a bonus (yes, I know its shallow but thats what comes of being a member of the GoGB)
I will update the rules of the GoGB shortly
WMD or no WMD the war was justified. Saddam is a cunt and needed to be removed. Otherwise we have learnt nothing from the Holocaust or WWII
Hasn't America been quiet about our election - or is it that they just don't know we exist?
Give Question Time to Paxman - Dimbleby is too slow and polite.
If several thousand IBM employees lose their jobs as looks likely - will the government set up a similar aid package as they gave to MG Rover (what do you think?)
Sky News - is it me or could this be called The Sun TV?
ITV Sport - just fuck off and leave sport to those who genuinely can cover it.
Later, GrocerJack
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
The Review – Doctor Who episode 6 - “Dalek”
Well, I know I’ve been harping on about this for a few weeks now, but the truth is that if you’ve missed this series in favour of anything other than fantastic sex, bloody good booze up or because your TV has packed up then you’re a twat. If you’re bored by Doctor Who (or at least by my comments on it) then fuck off and read another blog.
(Jack waits while the fools who are bored go and read something less/more interesting)
This weekend saw the 6th episode in the continually high quality, well written return of this iconic TV series. Like a lot of people I am often dubious about the merits of re-vamping old TV series, but in this case the scope for imaginative and compelling storylines was always massive. I described the series as iconic, and within the series there are probably a handful of iconic villains – the Cybermen, the Ice Warriors, the Silurians and The Master spring to mind, but none are as iconic or as popular as The Daleks. Ever since their first airing back in the days of the first Doctor (?) played by the now deceased William Hartnell these metal machines of death and hatred have always been a welcome part of each series, and in some cases have positively been the saviours of the series in terms of ratings.
So, on Saturday we had a single episode simply titled “Dalek”. The premise of the story was that the Doctor’s TARDIS is pulled off track by a distress signal into a former nuclear bunker in
The first scene with the Doctor was chilling and superb, with the Dalek becoming aware of its mortal enemy in the same (locked) room. The Doctor is patently petrified by his nemesis and tries to get out of the room, but the Dalek is “impotent”, its weapon does not work because of its depleted state of life. Some cracking acting from Eccleston ensues with superb dialogue between the mutual enemies, joy from the Doctor when he realises the Dalek’s impotence followed by his taunting of the captive hate machine of stories of how he destroyed the Dalek Empire, with his own race, presumably for what he believed would be the greater good. He then tries to kill this last Dalek, but is pulled from the room by Van Stattens henchmen as he tries to preserve his exhibit. I will not relate the whole story suffice to say the Dalek escapes thanks to Rose, rejuvenates courtesy of the US National Grid, downloads the whole internet, and then proceeds to negotiate stairs and kill 200 people with stunning ease before undergoing an identity crisis and questions it existence.
The Dalek upgrade from the BBC is wonderful, a real mean chunky beast with armour impervious to any human weaponry, computing power vaster than the sum of anything on Earth combined and seperate swivelling head and torso, giving it a mini-tank like action. What they have also added is its ability to logically reason and plan the most effective death policy with no hysteria or screaming its intentions. This Dalek no longer resorts to just hysterical hate filled screaming, this Dalek plans and thinks. It takes its time. Its chilling cry of “Exterminate” is still there, but the scene where it is taunted about its lack of stair climbing ability becomes chilling when it swivels its eye and ponders for a second, before simply stating “Elevate”. The view then switched to the Dalek eye view used throughout the episode (very nice touch) as it slowly ascends the staircase in pursuit of its prey. Other nice touches were the new deadly use of the sucker to kill someone by shrinking their head, and the use of it to calculate a combination code to break an electronic lock in 2 seconds.
But the story itself was made by the superb script, and the excellent dialogue between the Dalek and the Doctor, between the Dalek and Rose, and a fantastic moment of realisation by the Doctor on his feelings for Rose, highlighted to him ironically by The Dalek. At one point the Dalek actually says to the Doctor “You would make a good Dalek” and the horror of this truth etched on the Doctors face was superbly portrayed by Eccleston, an actor who in this one episode bought more gravitas to the Doctor than any predecessor. Another scene where Rose believes she is about to die, but absolves the Doctor was both powerful and emotional. Billie Piper is an actress with a very big future in my view. The story had an ending which actually made you feel sad for the Dalek as it realised its lonely existence, and its changing feelings on its existence as it mutated from Roses DNA. This was in any context a very dark episode, but worthy of high praise indeed from being both well written and well acted, to superbly filmed in very convincing surroundings.
If you missed it then you missed a genuine TV treat. Once again the BBC have justified every penny of the licence fee by producing good drama that can be genuinely watched by the family, although no doubt some younger children would have been massively frightened by the Dalek. Cue the complaints form the moronic bleeding heart, sandal wearing, leaflet distributing shitneck parents with fuck all better to do than complain about the potential long term psychological damage to little James and Arabella OakTreeLemonGrass.
Wankers.
Marks out of Ten though for this episode, the Beeb and everyone involved?
Ten!
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