Thursday, May 22, 2008

Hamster In A Coma

Google suggests that this, apparently, wasn't one of the tabloid headlines when Richard Hammond was in that car crash a couple of years ago, even if I do seem to remember things entirely differently... Anyway, I'm not really sure why I happened to think about that, but it did lead me to wondering about this:

What other Morrissey or Smiths song titles might benefit from the inclusion of one or more fluffy rodents?

Here are my suggestions (plus, possible themes and subject matter; oh, and a couple of non-rodents):

There Is A Gerbil That Never Goes Out - highlighting the serious issue of rodent agoraphobia.

Squirrel, Squirrel, Down We Go Together - Morrissey entreats a reluctant squirrel to join him on a slide.

Death Of A Disco Dormouse - a cautionary tale about resisting the lure of the bright lights.

We Hate It When Our Ferrets Become Successful - elegy to bitter Music Hall acts whose animal partners struck out on their own.

I Keep Mice Hidden - Morrissey confesses to having frequently ended games of Hide & Seek without telling anyone.

That Vole Isn't Funny Anymore - somewhat blunt lament to a rodent's squandered comic talent.

Big Mouse Strikes Again - Thatcher-era nonsense about Mickey joining a trade union.

You're The One For Me, Ratty - Morrissey makes plain his feelings; to the disappointment of Mole, Badger, and Mr Toad.

Vicar In A Coypu - the less said, the better (to quote the Catholic Church).

Pretty Girls Make Cavies - Morrissey finally explains his misgivings about heterosexual entanglements (see also, Some Girls Are Bigger Than Otters).

Have-A-Go Marmot - anthem to a vigilante ground squirrel.

Suffer Little Chinchilla - decidedly upsetting ballad, in which it becomes clear that Morrissey wasn't always so deeply committed to animal rights (see also, Marmot On The Guillotine).

This Lemming Man - protest song, in which Morrissey parodies the migratory urges of others while blithely ignoring his own domiciliary arrangements.

Squirrel Loves Me - following initial reticence, something beautiful unexpectedly blossoms at the foot of a playground slide.

More songs listed here, should anyone else fancy joining in...

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Today's news

Apparently, we can no longer call people* cults in public. Yes, I said cults. Which does make me wonder if The Guardian might be next to receive a summons from City Of London police:

"Actor Will Smith is funding his own private school that will teach youngsters using an educational system devised in part by the Scientology cult."

After all, how much more public can you get than a newspaper?

OK, I know, a newspaper article probably doesn't exactly fall under the Public Order Act, but doesn't that, in some roundabout way, just show how ridiculous the whole summons was?

Bunch of...

Erm, anyway, here's a village that wants to change its name.

*or perhaps just Scientologists?

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Are you starting?

US declares polar bears threatened - today's Guardian.

Was it just me who read that headline and immediately started wondering about an Axis of Furriness?

Friday, May 09, 2008

A precursor to insomnia, probably

Sometimes, I really wish the world would just stop and let me catch up. All things considered, I'm sure I must be at least a few revolutions behind.

Or are there revolutions these days? All I seem to experience are blurs, between one thing and another. What happens in between, I'm not quite sure - I'd venture to suggest 'stuff', but that sounds overly specific. And I'm not even sure that anything does happen in between, since by the end of a blur I seem to find that all sorts of things have instead failed to happen and I'm wishing the world would just stop and let me catch up.

Damn. That must be what's happened again. That's usually what marks the end of a blur; and the beginning of the next.

Sometimes, though, it isn't suddenly noticing that the steady accretion of things gone un-done has become too large to be comfortably ignored (no matter how hard you try). Sometimes it's noticing that some potentially significant thing you actually have done (often inadvertently, since why would anyone do anything significant on purpose? You'd only be creating trouble for yourself) has reached un-ignorable levels of significance. I think that might have happened too.

A dual blur, then. The metaphysical equivalent of a double booking, minus anyone who might apologise.


I hate dual blurs.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Bluebeard, and other sights from St Mawes

Bluebeard - St Mawes quay, 1/5/2008.

As I look at this, I like to imagine all the little boats hanging from the harbour wall, after someone's pulled out the plug... - St Mawes quay, 1/5/2008.

A polite (and precisely punctuated) warning - car park wall, St Mawes quay, 1/5/2008.

I had no idea hairdressers could be state registered. There's even a Hair Council, apparently - St Mawes, 1/5/2008.

Crouching photographer, hidden swastika - fencework outside a house on Marine Parade, St Mawes, 1/5/2008

St Maudit's well - off Bohella Road, St Mawes, 1/5/2008

My parents were in Falmouth last week, so I was forced to eat lots of nice food, stop for both morning and afternoon coffee almost every day, and wander around such places as St Mawes and the Eden Project. Somehow I survived to bring you this record of my torments.

Eden Project photos to follow, when they're all sorted and the right way up.