Crumbling society or sheer vandalism?

I can't stop watching the news. I am not against uprisings. Many necessary and vital changes have been made in the World by mass civil unrest when people have gone to the streets and shouted out that they wanted change now. However, why innocent victims' and small businesses are being targeted is beyond me. Staff in Pizza Planet and JD Sports are hardly earning enough to live on, and the owners might not be able to claim insurance for 'civil mobbing'. Everybody loses. Why not target the banks? If kids today have absolutely nothing to live for then maybe the government should consider creating more jobs and allowing people to go to uni. Give them a chance in life and see how things change. Also, the government needs to stop cutting police jobs! Tories, see what you have done?? But kids, really, if you want to make a point, don't victimise small businesses, people's homes, your own neighbours and electronics shops. Londoners will have no sympathy for TV looters.  Sure, go out and demand change, but do it nicely and you will be supported. Do it with violence and you get no respect. "There is nothing more dangerous than to build a society, with a large segment of people in that society, who feel that they have no stake in it; who feel that they have nothing to lose. People who have a stake in their society, protect that society, but when they don't have it, they unconsciously want to destroy it." Martin Luther King Jr


Here are some of my favourite comments and quotes from Londoners, picked out from Facebook and Twitter: 
-'Peace appears to have broken out in London. Have parents barricaded their children indoors or are the looters busy playing on their new PS consoles?'
-'Stuck indoors!!!'
‎-'Dirty, thieving bastard scum, you make me sick. Any excuse to loot shops for your white trainers and a new tv. It's about time our police were allowed to deal with scum properly.'
-'Wow a lot of Police around. What happen to the skanky idiots? They are either doing the following: watching the news and laughing their ass off boasting that they've finished stealing or are they doing a peek a boo game.'
-'I could understand if they were looting food, but TVs and DVD recorders??? These are just opportunistic bastards!!'
-'Hackney has burnt to the ground!'

Seanhanna: hairbutchers of the year

This year I decided that I should spend more money on my hair. Hell, I have a stable job, a boyfriend to share the bills, and no kids to feed, apart from my aged cats, so I should be able to treat myself once in a while. So I said goodbye to the Russian lady who had been my faithful hairdresser for over five years, always getting it right, or at least highly acceptable cut and colour, despite washing my hair upside down in her bath. Well, it was cheap, what do you expect!  
Following on the success of my BKT, I went back to Rush Victoria to have my hair coloured, whilst sipping proper coffee and listening to something other than Russian pop music. I deserve this, I thought, feeling quite smug. I asked the colourist for warm milk chocolate with copper highlights and gave her a photo. Easy, I  thought. 
After some fakery, the colourist dried my hair. I looked myself in the mirror and saw jet black with red stripes. No, no no! It would appear that NOTHING in the world wide hairdressing is easy. Open to interpretation more likely. I took a deeeeeeeep breath. "This is not what I asked for, this is black, jet black, not milk choc". The hairdressers, being such patronising beasts, tried to convince me that jet black was the colour I asked for and even tried putting the photo I had brought on my hair to compare. I snatched the photo way and told them that they could stop right away trying to pretend this was choc, when it so clearly was J-E-T B-L-A-C-K, and that I was not colour blind, you so called hair colourist! They offered to fix it, but subsequently messed up my next appointment to 'bleach' my hair (which was probably just gonna go terribly wrong) and I had to look like a WAG for months. Needless to say, I have not gone back.
Try number two: Seanhanna in Canary Wharf, which, it would appear, won a hairdressers of the year award. Surely these people will be able to do something right, right? WRONG! Disaster number 1: The first time I went for cut, I specifically said NO LAYERS. What did I get? Layers upon layers upon layers. I am starting to doubt my ability to speak English. Did I somehow learn Russian from my old hairdresser and now can only talk Russian to hairdressers??? They offered me a 50% off haircut next time, after I had a chance to grow the layers.
Disaster number 2: two colourists, yes, two of them, which looked no more than 15 years old, had to do my colour three times. Four and a half hours later, I went from a somewhat faded chocolate brown to blond with orange highlights, then red with red highlights to auburn with red highlights. I am a brunette, people, BRUNETTE! Not blonde or ginger or red! Is milk chocolate with copper highlights such a mystical colour to baffle these teenagers in such a way??
Disaster number 3: on the same day as colour, my 50% off haircut as an apology from the previous fuck up. I just didn't know that they meant I was going to leave with 50% less hair. As soon as the 'senior hairdresser', who looked 13, started cutting my fringe I knew I was in trouble. But I doubted myself, you see... I thought "Is this a new technique from the hairdressers of the year"? Wrong again! The child started to chop and chomp my fringe vertically and disaster ensued. He just could not get my fringe straight! The very basics of hairdressing! How can they be hairdressers of the year? Which year exactly, 2045?  No one cuts hair like that!  STRAIGHT fringe!! I am not asking for much here! The result was awful, a chomped fringe, two inches above my eyebrows, wonky, badly drawn (and quartered!) Ridiculous, stupid and plain wrong. 
AND they wanted to charge me! The very cheek of it! I asked the receptionist if she thought my fringe was straight, she didn't reply. She instead asked me if I was happy was my colour. "Do I look happy after spending five hours of my Saturday sitting here, hungry and deeply annoyed, whilst you tried to fix my colour three times whilst repeatedly hacking my hair with a blunt axe? Are you going to pay for my wasted time?" She kept looking at my fringe. Needless to say, I am not going back. 
At this rate, I will run out of 'establishments' that will see me by the end of the next year... Deeply frustrated, demoralised, hungry, feeling sorry for myself, I texted my boyfriend ahead of getting home to warn him my hair looked stupid, so he would be sympathetic and not say things like "is that what you wanted?" I got home and had to hear a 'sympathetic' "oh dear... " from my boyfriend. Yes, oh dear indeed. Back to the Russians then....

Post Office special delivery maths

Monday 9am and I am already wound up: a Post Office cashier spent 5 minutes arguing with me about how to give me change to £10.07 for a £5.67 transaction. She kept trying to give me 3p back as she "already had 4p"!!! I cannot even imagine what she wanted to do with the 4p. After a some time of shuffling 3p back and forth under the protective glass, I had enough.  I really do try really hard to be nice but i just HAD to tell her that, as "a cashier", if she can't work out how to give change, she should use a calculator, and that it should be £4.40. She gave me a blank stare; her manager, who had apparently witnessed the exchange, found it very amusing. Well, I just had to roll my eyes to him! Good luck, mate! Me, on the other hand, can only despair...

Spending Cuts Protest- Photos

"Is this a revolt?" (Louis XVI)  "No, Sire, it is a Revolution!" (La Rochefoucauld-Liancourt)

How I wish it was! Amazing to see people coming from all over the country to show their anger: Tories, take note, we are angry!!!

Lady of the Dump

Walking around the back streets of Shadwell today, it suddenly dawned on me how deprived the area really is.  I mean, you can see that it is a dump any day, but there are lots of places in London that are a real dump without feeling poverty stricken, like Bayswater for example.  No, Shadwell is a proper, Tower Hamlets par Commercial Road, dump. And it has always been.  It has hardly changed for over a century, it is too close to Whitechapel for comfort and has the characteristic "streets in the sky" council flats.  Apart from being full of rubbish and stinking of human pee/greasy chips, Shadwell has the feeling and look of a deprived area.  However, what made me realise how poor the area really is, is that you see no beauty whatsoever.  There is not even the beauty of a dilapidated graffitied urban house, the sharp beauty of modern glass or even crumbling historical buildings.  No, just grime.  Grimy people, wearing grimy clothes, going around with grimy faces, doing grimy business.  No smiles.  No laughter.  No civility.  Just grime.

The Shakes-pear MP

I read yesterday that some Tory MP said unemployed Northerners should come down to the South to replace the Romanians as fruit pickers.  I nearly choked on my coffee by his naivety.  So let's all just  leave our homes and children unattended to travel down to some overpriced hut in Kent to pick pigeon shit covered cherries?  What next, a Marie Antoinette "if you can't afford bread, eat cake"?  When you have gone to Eton and lived in a mansion in Buckinghamshire, all that luxury must get to your head.  Surely travelling down to Kent in a Mercedes and picking up some Duchy pears for fun and photo opportunities must be smashing.  Let's all do that, Mr Shakes-pear, it is a jolly good idea. Just make sure you invite those Northerners who voted Tory first...

Runners shall not be geniuses

Runners in central London do my head in. They run on the pavement, zig-zagging through the pedestrians, running them (me) over whenever they "can't stop".   At the traffic lights, they hop on the spot. That is the most irritating thing. Why don't they just continue running to the end of the road or something then come back instead of the stupid hopping? Not only that, but they get really close to you.   I am like: 'oi! bugger-off over there, you are all sweaty!'   In the summer it might actually get to point where sweaty splashes on innocent bystanders; surely that should be illegal??!   Then there is the attitude. "I am a r-u-n-n-e-r, I am all spoooooorty, I am heeeealthy, you are all lazy faaats, tut tut, get out of my waaay..."   No, YOU get out of my way, you self-righteous amateur hopper! You stink, you hop, and you run like Mr Bean! If you want to run unimpeded, plan a better route, cos running in the middle of this crowd of pedestrians also makes you stupid! All that Lycra surely can't be good for your head! 

London burning

I watched in awe as students took to the streets again yesterday to protest against the Tories cuts. Before this rioting started in London, I had been watching, with some enthusiasm, the Greeks and French going bonkers on the streets protesting, and I wondered why the Brits were so passive. But now it seems that we will be seeing more action against unfair cuts. 
The Tories love to remind us that the mess we are in now is all Labour's fault, but in my view that is misconceived. I was jolly happy whilst Labour was in power: I had a safe job, my salary was going up, VAT was reasonable, unemployment was down, etc. It might have been eventually doomed, but it felt good. Then the bankers fucked it all up. But it happened all over Europe, so how can the Tories point their scissor-like fingers exclusively to Labour? 
I don't feel so good anymore. And I am guessing the Nation isn't either. By the time the cuts in jobs and benefits and VAT increase take place, starting from next year, we might start seeing a lot more of bus stops being thrashed. Thrashing bus stations is pointless, by the way, so those angry students who smashed that bus stop in Trafalgar Sq, take note: try something a bit more empowering to make your anger noticed. Rotten eggs anyone? 

Millbank Battle: the next day

This is all that is left from the siege: broken glass, graffiti, police rope

The Millbank Tower Siege: the first of the big riots.

Millbank Tower was under siege today by students protesting against the Tories' education cuts. Placards, converse trainers, spots and fire bombs, awesome. The students stormed the reception of the Conservatives HQ, then they made it to the roof with big red flags, to the cheer of the crowd below, and more smoke bombs. The police were outnumbered but clearly didn't seem to be too bothered, they simply watched on as the kids broke yet another glass panel; probably aware that their own kids will have to suffer the cuts under the Tories whilst the adults are made redundant. The messages were obviously arty and creative: "keep the Eton mess at Oxford"; "having his cake and Eton it"; "make the bankers pay"; a black board with white letters saying only "angry sign"; a graffiti on the wall "Tories Scum" beside a big cock. Now the news are saying that the public is angry about the protesters' vandalism. I am not angry. I am impressed. However serious, violent, fun and justified the protest was, the Tories should take this as a warning that education should not suffer. After all, the students first stormed the wrong building before realising it; so in fact they need more, rather than less, education.

Herbal Inn: suspicious Chinese medicine

A while ago I was looking for a cure to my "Help! I am skinny but have swallowed a basketball syndrome!" when I stumbled onto an article about acupuncture. It made sense, I was unexplainably bloated and I wanted it punctured. Now. My GP was baffled that paracetamol had not solved my problem so, whilst shopping in TKMaxx in Lewisham -as you do- I saw the Herbal Inn shop, offering acupuncture cures for everything from itchy feet to decapitation, and decided to check it out. The "sales guy" told me that I looked very tired and acupuncture would help me with my bloating. I ignored the hard sales techniques, but he was very persistent. I caved in, as all I wanted was to try the acupuncture, and had the 1st session the same day. The "doctor" saw me, took my pulse by pressing two fingers on my wrists and asked me several questions via a translator. His diagnose was damming: I was very sick and needed their help before my bloated belly took over my personality. I bought a course of six sessions with massage, at a whooping £200, out of sheer desperation and misguided hope (my new words for 'stupid').

The acupuncture session itself was not unpleasant but, once I was all needled up, the "doctor" told me to try to relax. I don't know about you, but having only a curtain separating me from Lewisham shopping mall with all its glorious mutant noise, plus "hard sales guy" outside trying his best to sell overpriced miracle Chinese tea to other unsuspecting victims, was not easy to relax. Worst still, as I had already bought the six sessions, I was actually pissed off. But, having no other choice, I had to go along with it. I tried hard to relax and ignore the noise, and the massage afterwards wasn't bad. The worst part, however, was after the session. Hard sales guy, doctor and translator were intent in selling me their tea; they told me the acupuncture alone would not help me, I would have to drink the tea morning and evening, and after a while, I would get better and what was £38 to feel better? I caved in...again... The tea was absolutely vile! I had it for a few days but just gave up, it tasted like mud and smelly socks gravy, disgusting! Poo poo!! And WHAT was I doing drinking this tea concoction prepared at the back of a Chinese shop in Lewisham? For all I know it could be dried mud. Did you know that herbal medicines are not regulated in the UK!? Shocking.

It became unbearable after each acupuncture session, with three of the vultures trying to sell me more tea. I know that that is how they make their profit, but I was feeling like I was being held at tea point. Even when I categorically told them that I would not buy any more of the vile tea, they said I would not get better then...nice... At my last session, I just didn't want any of that shit and had a script ready should I be held hostage again: the translator said that this was my last session and asked me how my bloating was. Marvellous, I said, feel much better! What about the heavy periods? Normal, never had a problem again. And the night sweats? All gone, I feel really good, thanks. But you are looking very tired... oh.. the cheek! This is beyond hard sales! They are preying on people's weaknesses, trying to find a problem and make people feel vulnerable, then selling tea! I know, I fell for it, but only once!

Whilst I was having my last session and "trying to relax", I was getting my getaway script ready: no, I don't want any of your vile tea and you will never see me again you horrible people! But I didn't need to. A woman was already shouting at them: "you lied to me! You said my baby's skin would get better in a week, and now you are saying he needs to take the tea for a month and charging me for it!!!" Hard sales guy was working even harder to get out of this embarrassing situation. I felt vindicated, and was not stopped as I left the shop forever. It felt auspicious, unfortunately, I should instead have been suspicious. A lasting gift from Herbal Inn: three days with a bruised back due to the "doctor's" back massage. As for the bloating, well, it was something as easy as avoiding eating fruit in the morning...

Tory's economic growth: a slow wart?

I am at loss with the Tory's spending review. Cut cut cut, you are cut, shush, 'you're cut too shusher!' I don't know about you, but for me, it seems like very bad maths. They want to cut jobs. Unemployed people don't spend, don't shop, which in turn reduces VAT collection, reduces income tax, rises welfare claims and ultimately messes up the very same thing that Beavis and Butthead at Number 10 are allegedly trying to save: our economy. I just cannot believe that with all the money that the aristocratic Tories spent on their own education at Cambridge, Eton, Oxford, they are substandard at maths! That is a disgrace to those Institutions' names!

Britain's Next Top Model: fat chance

I am still reeling from Julien Macdonald's comment on Britain's Next Top Model
that 'Charlotte is fat'. She cannot possibly be more than a size 8UK, and yet Julien, with his greasy hair and smarmy face, thinks she is fat. What a horrible c*nt. In an age where we have ten year olds dieting to look like models, anorexic children, and half of TV programs about supersized teenagers, it is hard to believe that a 'respected designer' such as Julien would come up with such an outdated, unfashionable and utterly rubbish comment. Don't get me wrong, I am all up for freedom of speech, but I just think that if you're going to vomit crap like that, then you should just shut up. Even more surprisingly is that none of the other judges stood up for Charlotte, they just looked on like extras from 'Sean of the Dead'. I would have expected Elle to say something, but she is all looks and very little matter. She might be a successful model and business woman, but she is no TV show host. In saying that, although the British girls are more fun and interesting than the American ones, Tyra really makes ANTM more value for money. Nonetheless, I think that Charlotte is absolutely gorgeous, takes amazing photos and, for a change in the fashion industry, a really nice person. I sincerely hope she wins. Good luck Charlotte!

Read other articles on www.graziadaily.co.uk

Brazilian Keratin Treatment (BKT) review

I waited a few weeks to write this review to see if the BKT was any good. Before the treatment, my hair was in an awful state, it was dry and frizzy and even the straightner couldn't cope with it. My hair looked dead and cooked. I was reluctant to spend 200 quid on something that promises such a miracle result in one single application, but when my hair started to stand up on its own, I had it! and decided to try BKT. I saw an article on www.guardian.co.uk that formulas are not regulated or standard, and every saloon have their own formula; cheaper formulas might contain high levels of formaldehyde, which is carcinogenic, i. e. can cause cancer. The article said that respected saloons used formaldehyde free formulas, so after some research, I choose to have it done at Rush. The hair is washed with a special shampoo then the formula is applied and let to absorb for 45 minutes. It is then sealed in with an extra hot iron, each strand being ironed eight times and it produces a lot of steam; I was reassured that all that smoke doesn't damage the hair. I then had a haircut and style. You can't wash your hair for three days, no moisture, no rain, no clipping or ponytails. Apart from greasy hair for the three days and a super tight shower cap that gave me a headache, it went quite smooth and no one laughed at me; I actually went out and people said my hair looked nice! Even as greasy as it was! On the forth day you go back to the saloon for a wash and more straightening, then you are free to go. It has been seven weeks now and my hair still looks straight, shiny, frizz free, healthy and new. Brand new actually, mirror shine like those Pantene adverts. The best of all is that no styling is necessary, you just wash with the keratin shampoo, brush and go. Quite economic on the styling products department. I got lots of compliments every day, people asked if I had just come from the hairdressers, even weeks after the BKT. And I started being asked for ID to buy 'some stuff' (oh the joys!). All this during the moist humid summer months, when the norm was static, dry, frizzy, mad hair. I am very impressed by the BKT, and no doubt that it is a miracle treatment. When the 12-14 weeks that the treatment is supposed to last are over, I will definitely go back for more, as the more you do it, the better the condition of your hair. The verdict? BKT rocks!

Edinburgh Festival review

Just came back from a weekend at the Fringe. Had a very good time and saw some excellent shows. Friday, at The BBC Comedy Presents, I saw "The Boy with tape on his face", a bloke with electrical tape over his mouth, a manbag full of props, amazing eye ball eloquence, and a willing audience. I laughed non-stop, and so did the audience, so I can't even say I was the only mad one. He uses music from films we can all recognise to make this show innovative, contemporary and utterly brilliant. If you can see this, I highly recommend it.

On Saturday I went to the Jazz Bar, four quid for five comedy shows, a band, a movie and crisps. Yes, crisps, it went down spiffingly well with all those beers. Anyway, one of the stand ups was Shazia Mirza, taking the piss of her Pakistani culture, arranged marriages and sex. I have seen her on tv before, but live and non-recorded she is the rudest and best female comedian in Britain, in my humble opinion.

Now, trying to eat at the Festival without having booked a table three years in advance is quite a challenge. My friends and I went to about fifteen restaurants and they were all fully booked until 9pm. We queued for twenty minutes at 'Monster Mash', in the rain, without as little as eye contact from the staff; they simply ignored us until we shouted for attention. Then a little Prick came over full of attitude asking "what is it!" , we said we would like a table and pointed to an empty one; the Prick said they were fully booked and had no tables for us. Well, it wouldn't have hurt to tell us that 20min ago, would it, Prick!! A mash house with bad attitude! I hope someone sends them a bag full of cat shit in the post! I didn't even wanna eat there, but couldn't even find a MacDonalds (not wanted that either, but hunger was strong). Nevertheless, all worked out ok, as we ended up at Iman's and I had the best curry ever. Still hate Monster Mash, though, might start saving up cat litter...

iPhone 4 White: where are you?

As much as I love Apple, you got hate them sometimes. There I was, all excited about getting a new iPhone, contract finishing soon, all set to have the iPhone4 for September, counting the days...then there comes the iPhone4 White! So clean, so beautiful, so shiny, so like my Wii, modern, the colour of the future, Apple white... I 'already know how to use it'. Must have this product!
But in its rush to create new, Apple forget some basic, basic stuff, like, to test stuff before they announce it! I can see a huge danger of Apple becoming like Microsoft, sell sell sell any crap just because it's new and we suckers will buy it anyway. Antenna problem? No problem! Who needs to make phone calls these days anyway? I only talk to my friends on Facebook. Proximity detection problem? No bother! I was going to buy a cover anyway, my iPhone needs to last 18 months before I can upgrade to an i5, so I need to protect it, don't I? Yes, we will buy it anyway, so there is no need to torture us with promises of iUnicorn4 which you can't deliver, Apple! It wasn't very clever, because if you kept quiet I would have bought a black iPhone4, but now I must wait for the white. It is just not fair. Meanwhile, what to do? Well, maybe I should check out some new crap from Microsoft to buy. Naaaaah, just save for an IPad instead. Does it come in white??? No, don't tell me!

London's war zone: Oxford Street

I don't know about you, but for me a trip to Oxford Street at the weekend would be similar to shopping in Kabul post UK/USA invasion: psychologically damaging. It was not my choice to go there today, no, I was set up. My type of shopping in Oxford St involves taking a Monday off work and arriving at 9am; or a late Friday evening, when everyone else is clubbing or out or whatever people do, and Topshop/Zara/Mango are virtually flapper free. Other than those particular times, I lose my rag. I mean, how can people stop in the most stupid places, block entrances and stairwells, stop in the middle of incoming traffic and be generally like retarded sheep?? It is not logic! God help us if they drive like that! I must have a permanent 'what the fuck' face, and I try to give them the evil look and tut and shake my head in disapproval, but still they behave as if they don't know what a pavement is for. It is really very simple: please walked in a straight line, hurry up a bit as there are a million people behind you trying to walk past, do not stop at the bottom/top of the escalators!, do not block the entire pavement with your friends/family and do not for goodness sake try to use your credit card in the Oyster slot!!! Seriously!! I have seen that!! Every time I get home from Oxford Street I think I need to check my blood pressure, surely my blood is going to boil inside me and I will end up spontaneously combusting! I think I suffer from Oxford Street rage...

Some people spoil it for the rest of us

Today I saw another London classic in the DLR platform: a woman of around 60, wearing some sort of lilac tracksuit, a long ponytail right on top of her head, and large lilac glasses. No, she wasn't Vicky Pollard, but the resemblance was uncanny. She was pushing what I thought, to begin with, to be a very low granny trolley or a broken pram. On close inspection, it was one of those American pet strollers, covered in cat badges, with something wrapped in a blanket inside. Now, it could not possibly have been a baby, because the stroller was far too close to the ground, and it definitely was not empty, so I could only assume she had a cat inside it. Cat present or not, I instantly assumed she was a nutter. Now I hear some people say "you shouldn't assume it just by her appearance!" I tried not to, but I just couldn't help, and you know why? Because human beings are wired up to look at something and make up her their minds about it, just like Cousin Cave did. Our cave cousins would look into a situation and quickly assess it by its appearance whether there was danger, like for example, assessing an attacking tiger's teeth, size and healthy appearance. Cousin Cave would not ask the tiger "what is your biting power?", or consider its feelings. And as much as people try to think they have evolved, the reality is that evolution of humans from cave to city has not happened that long ago in evolution's timescale. But that is not the point. The point I am trying to make is that the cat nutter was strolling with a cat in a basket. Now, I have two flat bound cats, and I thought, actually, my poor cats could do with a stroll. And like the nutter, I wouldn't give a damn about what people thought, and I would dress up nice and proper to take the cats around. But then I considered, what about if a work colleague saw me? Not giving a damn does not mean jeopardising your future and, understanding the Cousin Cave syndrome, I think that I pretty sure would be considered unstable by this unexpectedly intruding colleague and gossip would ensue, rendering me unsuitable for promotion. Damn! I give a damn after all! Some people just spoil for the rest of us. Bastards. Had Coco Chanel or Michele Obama invented the cat strolling fashion, I would be in such a better world...

In Google we trust

Google never ceases to amaze me. First, they were two tekkies in a garage in Michigan who, instead of getting laid, got us Googling. Google is simple, clean and effective, because they don't accept money from businesses to appear on their search, they make money from other ad revenues. Then, they created Google Chrome, which, if you haven't downloaded it yet, you are seriously missing out. It gave my laptop a new lease of life, it is super fast and efficient (I love this word!), and it makes Internet Explorer feel like the M25 on 5PM Friday. Now Sergey Brin has decoded his DNA, because he can, and found out that he has 50% chance of developing Alzheimer's (or Parkinson's disease), and decided to find a cure for it. All of a sudden, it all makes sense. Never mind the amazing developments they have created in IT, never mind the most powerful and famous search engine in the world, their purpose has finally been revealed, they will find THE cure. I am excited about this revelation! I want to work for Google! Sergey, I am your disciple! Recruit me please!!!!

Read the article on: http://www.wired.co.uk/wired-magazine/archive/2010/08/features/sergey-brin's-search-for-parkinson's-cure?page=all

And for Googgleness sake, download Chrome on: http://www.google.com/chrome

Is hot the new black?

31 degrees and counting. The last time it was this hot in Europe, everyone melted and died. I am very close to it. The heat might also explain why people are so edgy and aggressive. I was calmly melting at home after a weekend away in the country when I heard a real kerfuffle outside and went to 'peek' from behind the curtains (as you do..). There, fully dressed in a sari, was a woman shouting to another man that his wife was a slag and he should be ashamed of her. Several men were containing the fight, trying not to touch the woman, thank god, and others were trying to make her go away, she would take two steps way, turn back again and go back shouting about slag wife out of control. We are not in Kansas any more, Toto, I though...This went on for at least 15 min. Eventually, it appears, the woman's husband turned up and the others shouted repeatedly to him "control your wife!". Now, is it just me or it seems that the poor woman was just outnumbered? No other woman came out to her rescue, and she was surrounded by uncomprehending males that didn't have a clue what she was on about and did not give her hug. Clearly, there had been some sort of injustice, maybe the slag wife slept with the shouty woman's husband? I don't know, all I know is how utterly alone she looked, and what mess her life must be. Despite feeling very sorry for her, I wanted all the scumbags to go home and have a cold shower. Who shouts in the middle of the street like that???? This is not Chelsea, but it is certainly not an episode of Jeremy Springer Street! Have some common decency, people, and stop the f*cking noise!

Paul the Psychic Octopus

I am reading with much amusement all the death threats to poor Paul, the Psychic Octopus. He is a Dorset born, 9 brained genius, 'Nostradamus of the sea', I love it! I might even avoid calamari rings for the time being out of respect. What people don't know is that he actually saved England from another Falklands war; hence, he is a war hero. I beg the MI5 to bring Paul back home and to put him in the witness protection programme UK. Being a disliker of all things Argentinean (mainly the people, really) I was a bit concerned about their initial performance at the World Cup, led by HoG (Hand of God) himself, so I watched them closely. I was convinced that, should Argentina win the World Cup, their national pride (as misguided as that is) would lead them to invade the Falklands again. So thankfully Paul predicted, or maybe even better, 'influenced' their loss. He saved us and now he needs protection. Did you see what the Argentineans are saying about Paul??? Hang, beaten, drawn and quartered with paprika!!! Psychos!! If Psychic Sally had been the target to death threats like these, we would likely pay for her protection, so I see no difference in protecting Paul, our hero. I also suggest that he be given an OBE. It is the minimum we can do.

Wireless - part 2

So I survived 8 hours and 25 minutes at the Wireless Festival, to my own surprise. Apart from some pretty useless bands/singers, which were there just to sell beer and chips, I quite enjoyed Jay-Z. He is pretty cool and he can actually sing! The production was excellent and he can work a crowd. I mean, you gotta be good if you are married to Beyonce, right? I could not imagine her shagging Chipmunk (Chip who?).

On the other hand, Slash was completely wasted on that hip hop crowd. What a show! I can think of no other band where the main act is the guitarist and not the vocalist (Jimmy Hendrix doesn't count, he was not a band!). Slash playing guitar on his back was [use of the Americanism necessary] Awesome! He is a Legend! Slash was my highlight and I would have gone then, had it not been for 'the others'. You gotta hate friends sometimes...

After Slash, I went for a slash and had to try 5 different loo locations. Queueing for a piss! Not only that, queueing for a piss with 150 flapping drunks dying for a piss! I swore I would never go to another festival. After 45 minutes of full bladder pain queuing you would think you would get a prize, but instead, you get a Portaloo. From poo to power as they called it themselves.

The worst part for me, however, was the throwing bottles in the air. How old were these twats, 11?! If I had seen one I would pin them to the ground and bash their heads with a bottle until it broke (you pick, head or bottle). But, as a small gal, I can only dream of such things... and dream of gigs where people over 5'8 should sit down, stupid giants...

Hyde Park Wireless

I am just about to go to Wireless to see Jay-Z and Slash, let's see what this will be like. From yesterday (I went to see the Great London Swim at the Excel, in Docklands) I can say that I F***ING hate Portaloos!!!!!! What is that all about??? 10cm space inside, how can a lady hover like that? No space to turn around, the loo is too high to hover, my bits ended up touching the sit (ewwww!), piss went flying everywhere, and to be honest, I might as well have pissed myself, cos that was the end result. Bad design really does my head in. It is made for men to piss standing up with their backs to the door. Thanks, guys, another design by men for men. Only men could put up with the stink of highly noxious chemicals and piss/poo. I was disgusted, and literally pissed. Combined with the single food stall for 10,000 people, no wonder I thought the organisation was rather selfish. I was not impressed.

I was told Wireless will have "luxury loos" at an extra price, off course! Well, I will have to check that, if a Portaloo is all we get for a £50 quid ticket, then paying EXTRA for a "luxury" loo will give you what? a hole in the ground? Because that would be the next step up from a Portaloo. Why do I ever leave the house?

Flappers

Beware of Flappers! They are everywhere, the platforms, roads, pavements, parks even! They came in all shapes and forms, nationalities and age. Be not fooled, they will get to you, sooner or later your way will be blocked by someone walking too slow in front of you. These are the Flappers, who have no understanding of people traffic and cannot drive themselves in a straight line on the pavement, have no understanding of orderly queues, and stop in the most annoying places to take photos: right in front of you.

Under construction

Yes, I had enough and I need to shout about it all!!! Commuting, Tourists, Tories, cat puke, why I need an iPad, Ryanair, gig prices, airports, bendy buses!!!!