Live news, 25 years old

Spotted today on the otherwise-excellent BBC Sport website:

So, live rolling sports news for the 17th April 2015... illustrated with a photograph of crisp-peddler Gary Lineker and troubled sometime-genius Paul Gascoigne during their shared time at Spurs. Lineker was there from 89 to 92, Gazza from 88 to 92... so the picture is around 25 years old.

Still, it's live news, so that's alright then...

Although really, why am I writing this, and why are you reading it (both of you)? Is this the best I can do? This blog continues to decline, much like its author.

Top shot, that one

RIP Richie Benaud...

Footnote: did you realise that, in the UK, all live televised cricket coverage is behind a paywall? Nothing is free to air. Does makes you wonder what effect this will have, not so much on old duffers like me (and you) but on kids growing up, learning the game. The England team of 2025 will be even worse than the current lot...

Dreamworks unfamiliar with abbreviated Cockney rhyming slang

A-ha ha ha.... insert your own joke here...

For overseas readers: meaning and etymology of berk.

Clandestine Classic XL - Bivouac

The fortieth post (count 'em!) in an occasional series that is intended to highlight songs that you might not have heard that I think are excellent - clandestine classics, if you will. Maybe they'll be by bands you've never heard of. Maybe they'll be by more familiar artists, but tracks that were squirelled away on b-sides, unpopular albums, radio sessions or music magazine cover-mounted CDs. Time will, undoubtedly, tell.

I haven't done one of these for a while. By definition, it's getting harder and harder to think of songs that fit all the criteria - I have to think it's terrific but at the same time the chances of you being familiar with the song have to be low. A tough balancing act to get right but one I think, with today's offering, I've nailed. You haven't heard of The Panic Brothers, have you? Right, good. Let's press on then.

Not actually brothers, Reg Meuross and Richard Morton were, by the mid Eighties, a couple of ex-punks with a penchant for close, Everly-style harmonies and humourous lyrics. The humour was often, though not always, misleading, as these lyrics frequently dealt with the preoccupations of the poor in Thatcher's Britain: being on the dole, being in debt, struggling to pay the rent on a fleapit, dodging the repo man, that kind of thing. When I first saw The Panic Brothers, they had just released their 1987 album In The Red and were supporting Lenny Henry on his stand-up tour. As I recall, the other support act were the excellent Mint Juleps. On the strength of going to see Lenny live at Canterbury's Marlowe Theatre with a couple of mates, I asked for In The Red for my birthday. In those pre-Internet days, this would not have been an easy find, but my big brother duly delivered. He was heavily into Crass at the time, God help him, and apparently the guy behind the counter at Richard's Records (now extinct, sadly - the shop, not the guy) remarked to my brother that this wasn't his usual kind of thing. "It's for my little brother," enabled my bro to maintain his record-shop reputation.

Anyway, today's Classic. I could have chosen any of the tracks from In The Red, such is the uniformly high quality of the songs, the wit and guile of the lyrics, and of course the excellence of those post-punk Everly harmonies. It's a great album, short and sharp (most of the tracks are in the two to three minute range). But I've chosen the song that is most embedded in my memory, whose lyrics I can still sing in their entirety despite not having played In The Red for more years than I care to mention. It's Bivouac, an ode to living in a dump and barely being able to afford even that. Yes, it's funny but to dismiss the Panics as a novelty or comedy act is so far off the mark. This is as much a political song as it is humourous and, sadly, the themes that made this relevant in the Eighties still apply today.

Post-Panic, Reg went on to establish himself as a highly-regarded folk act, whilst Richard pursued comedy and was a founder member of the Comedy Store’s topical Cutting Edge show. For me though, they will always be better together, so imagine my delight on discovering The Panic Brothers reunited for a handful of gigs last year, and apparently have more dates planned this year. They're on Twitter too, if that's your bag. Best of all, they've re-released the tracks from In The Red, with a couple of bonus extras, on shiny CD. You can, and should, buy it here.

As for me, I'll hang on to my vinyl Panic, and leave you with Bivouac, courtesy of YouTube. Enjoy.

Footnote (1): Unless my memory is playing tricks on me, which is quite possible, I'm pretty sure that Richard Morton, post-Panic, appeared on the Royal Variety Performance and did a song entitled Daddy Was A Sperm Bank, He Came On My Account. Possibly not his finest hour.

Footnote (2): Like Ant and Dec, Reg and Rich always (well, not quite always, but nearly) stand the same way around, Reg on the left, Rich on the right, as you look at them. A bit like me and The Man Of Cheese when we're playing a quiz or fruit machine... The exception, for Rich and Reg, is the sleeve art for In The Red.

It must be fun to write headlines

I would very much like to see Misery on stage. I even think Bruce Willis could make a good fist of Paul Sheldon.

Whatever you think of this though, you can surely only admire the Guardian's headline writers...?

The third quarter

For reasons I won't bore you with, we are in the market for a second car. It's a pain, especially as we had taken a conscious decision in 2009 to be a one-car family. But needs must. The bottom line is that we're looking for something relatively cheap to buy, cheap to run and yet capable, should the need arise, of reliably making the occasional 300-mile round trip.

Mrs Amusements also wants the car to be "fun". As small-engined boxes for three grand often are, naturally.

Finding a car that fits the bill is proving tremendously difficult but that's not your concern, and the only reason I mention the subject is as an excuse to relate the following. I'd stopped to browse the forecourt of a local car dealer. Within a minute of my arrival, as if by magic, the shopkeeper appeared. With lit cigarette in hand. Minus one point straight away for that, but nevertheless I listened to his spiel. I explained what I was looking for and he steered me around what he thought met the criteria. When we came to a tidy but unremarkable Vauxhall Agila, Johnny Salesman said:

"These are very popular with middle-aged drivers because you sit a little higher up."

Am I to infer then that he viewed me as middle-aged? Now I had a cap on, because it was raining, and so he couldn't see how bald I am. In fact, the only obvious clue to my being the age I am (44, since you ask) is the amount of grey in my beard. Yet he, who I would estimate to be in his early sixties, placed me in the middle aged bracket without hesitation.

I was a little taken aback by this, and needless to say I won't be buying a car from him (quite apart from the age quip and the smoking throughout his pitch, he was oleaginous and his cars were over-priced). Bottom line though is I guess he's right. Wikipedia has a stab at defining middle age as:

"...around the third quarter of the average life span of human beings..."

Now bear with me whilst I get a bit boring: average life expectancy is a complex beast - it's no good just Googling it. You need to take into account the year you were born, the region you were born and live in, ethnicity, a whole host of factors. So let's keep it simple. Let's just say I can expect to live to 70. The third quarter of my life would begin at 35. Similarly, an age of 80 would imply the onset of middle age at 40. So, working backwards, to not be middle aged I would have to expect to live to 90... and even then, middle age would officially begin at my next birthday.

In other words, however much I kid myself, I'm getting old. I take some small measure of comfort in the fact that you are too.

Later that day, I found what I thought was a potential candidate in the great second car hunt: small, cheap to buy, cheap to run, a nice shade of blue, a few frivolous fripperies to lighten up the mere experience of being in the car. Daring to get excited at the prospect of finally ending the interminable search, I pointed it out to Mrs Amusements on the Auto Trader website.

"It's alright," she said, "except for the colour."

"What's wrong with the colour?" I asked.

"It's old-man-blue," came the reply.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

IF NOT EXIST THEN... what?

The canteen at work has PIR sensors in the ceiling that detect movement and hence turn the lights on. They turn off again if no further movement is detected in a certain time period. Great. Very eco-friendly.

Except sometimes I can walk the length of the room, some 40 feet or so, and remain in darkness.

It doesn't always happen but it happens enough, to me, to be classed as semi-regular. And since it doesn't seem to happen to anyone else, do I even exist?

+1 kudos point for naming a coding language that supports (NOT) EXIST (only 1pt because there are loads).

+10 kudos points for irrefutable proof that I exist.

Not Film 2015... but three film (mini-) reviews anyway

I've seen three films at the cinema in the past fortnight. If you knew anything about my life you'd understand that this kind of frequency is almost unheard of these days. So what can I tell you about them? Or rather, what can I tell you that you won't have already read, seen or heard elsewhere? (Especially as I don't have time to write three full reviews...)

First off, I saw The Theory Of Everything, the Stephen Hawking biopic. You already know, from every newspaper/website/TV show that has offered a review, it is very good. And you've probably also heard that Eddie Redmayne is terrific as Hawking. He is, fully deserving the awards buzz that his performance has attracted. What you might not have heard is that Felicity Jones, as Hawking's wife Jane, is equally fantastic. She's sensational, so it's a pity her performance in what is, I guess, a more conventional role will probably not trouble the awards' judges in the same way. Oh, and what you also may not know is that the film largely treats what could have become a mawkish subject in a satisfyingly straightforward, unsentimental way; the result is all the more moving for it. Anyway, don't just take my word for it, here's a trailer.

Then, at the weekend I got to see Paddington. As a child, I devoured Michael Bond's books, and loved the TV show. So I'll admit to approaching this new film, and its CGI bear, with some trepidation... but do you know what? It's terrific. Looking around the cinema, it seemed a hit with kids of all ages, and there are plenty of laughs for adults too. But you know all this already. What's new? Well, there seemed to me to be a subtle point being made about migration, inclusivity, prejudice and multi-culturalism. After all, Farage would send everyone's favourite bear straight back to Darkest Peru, wouldn't he? And what else? Well, for the dads in the audience, Nicole Kidman hams it up as the token baddie... and is quite alluring in the process. So, trailer time.

And then, last night, I got to watch Birdman. You already know, I hope, that it's the tale of a faded film star, famous for playing the titular superhero twenty years ago, trying to reinvent himself as a serious actor, adapting Raymond Carver's What We Talk About When We Talk About Love on Broadway. And you probably already appreciate the irony (or genius casting) of Michael Keaton in the lead role, given his role in the first reimagining of Batman. What you may not have heard is that the supporting cast are pretty much all excellent too, especially Emma Stone and Edward Norton. What I hadn't heard before last night (and I therefore arrogantly assume you're unaware too) is quite how surreal the film becomes in places, though I can't elaborate without a spoiler alert. The film also shines a subtle spotlight on the nature of modern celebrity, no more so than with this line from the protagonist's daughter to her faded, jaded dad: "I mean, who are you? You hate bloggers. You make fun of Twitter. You don't even have a Facebook page. You're the one who doesn't exist." Oh, and Keaton's character has this quote taped to his dressing room mirror, which I rather like: "A thing is a thing, not what is said of that thing." Neat, yes? Well, I think so. Regardless, here's your last dose of trailer...

But okay, let's say you can only go the cinema once. Which should you see? Well that depends on what you're after. My overall verdict is not cut and dried, I'm afraid - I'll have to break it down instead:

• Best film: The Theory Of Everything
• Most enjoyable film: Paddington
• Most interesting film: Birdman
• Saddest film: The Theory Of Everything
• Happiest film: Paddington
• Strangest film: Birdman
• Film am I most likely to buy on DVD: Birdman

Your mileage may vary, of course.

The trouble with general elections

Unless you are dead from the neck up, it can't have escaped your notice that we're counting down to a general election. Media coverage is already ramping up, with every pale-faced, sweaty-palmed political manoeuvre scrutinised to the n^th degree. Goodness only knows what it will be like by the time the polls open on 7th May.

In the past I've advocated using sites like voteforpolicies.org.uk to help you decide how to cast your vote; basically, this site asks you to choose which election pledges most closely match your views in a number of key policy areas (economy, environment, education, plus some that don't begin with 'e'). At the end of the survey, you're given a breakdown of how your choices match each party, so you might be 22% Conservative, 44% Green, 11% Labour, and so on. Sounds great, doesn't it? I've taken the survey in previous election years and been unsurprised by the results, which probably indicates there's some truth in it. But... There's always a but, isn't there?

You see, I've taken the survey this year and guess what? I'm a little bit of most things (though not BNP at all, fortunately). And I'm not alone; when I checked earlier today, this is how more than half a million responses averaged out:

Policy fit [source]

When I was a kid, back in the Seventies and early Eighties, politics was easy. Yes, the Liberals were floating about but elections were essentially two horse races. You were red or blue. Left or right. Callaghan/Foot/Kinnock or Thatcher. It was straightforward. These days, when I (and everyone else, it seems) is 22% this, 22% that and 22% the other, well, deciding where you put your X is a lot less straightforward. I fully accept how unlikely it is that any single party would completely align with my personal ideology, but none even gets particularly close - there's no majority party in my Vote For Policies result, and I doubt there is in yours either. Is it any wonder, then, when choosing has become so hard, and the electoral canvas is now so broad, that voter turnout falls and falls and falls: the electorate is paralysed with choice. Take a look at this:

Declining turnout [source]

I predict a mild upturn in turnout this time around, not least because half of everyone you meet these days considers themselves an activist. As if sharing a jpeg of some truism (you know, "Bad things are bad", that kind of thing) on Facebook makes you an activist, rather than just, say, a timeline-pollutant. But anyway. A small upturn, probably. But if you're wondering why the turnout at the Scottish referendum was so high (84.59% [source]) compared to UK general election turnouts, as well as being such an emotive issue I would venture it's partly because it was a straight yes/no choice. A two horse race, again.

You can expect more political posts from me over the next few months, I'm afraid, but don't despair, they'll still be heavily outnumbered by posts about music, film, television, books, the usual. I may even get around to writing my own personal manifesto, so you can all decide that you are 22% like me.

All that remains is to link, as I always do when I write about national votes, to the film Election. It's brilliantly funny and comfortably bears repeated viewing... unlike most of our politicians. It gets my vote, et cetera.

Nous sommes tous Charlie, mais...

I'm not sure what I, in my informed yet still inadequately informed position, can meaningfully add to the reams that have been written following events in Paris last week. It's complex, and the more I think about it the harder it becomes to see how a radicalised, extremist minority are ever going to be content playing nicely with a largely secular, social, democratic majority. I don't see a happy ending, is what I'm trying to say. That's depressing, I know, but I can't help it - Marvin the Paranoid Android has nothing on me.

Instead, let me point you to some interesting blogging on the subject, specifically: Tim Footman's immediate reaction on his excellent blog, Cultural Snow, makes a lot of points I would like to make, but more succinctly and in better prose; and Andrew Collins' take, a week on, which has some interesting background on the roots of this most terrible of problems.

Interestingly, it was also Andrew's blog that recommended Windows On The World by Frédéric Beigbeder, a book of astonishing power that I finished reading over Christmas and cannot recommend highly enough. Its post-9/11 theme seems depressingly relevant after Charlie Hebdo and all that followed.