I just received this email:

DEAR FRIEND,
 
IT IS TRUE THAT THIS LETTER MAY COME TO YOU AS A SUPRISE SINCE WE HAVE NOT MET OURSELVES PHYSICALLY.BUT BEFORE I PROCEED,I WOULD WANT TO INTRODUCE MYSELF TO YOU. MY NAME IS BELLO NUMAN ,I AM THE FIRST SON OF LATE OKOH NUMAN .MY FATHER WAS A VERY WEALTHY MAN BEFORE HIS DEATH FOUR YEARS AGO.
 
HE MARRIED TWO WIVES OF WHICH MY MOTHER WAS THE FIRST,BUT SHE DIED THREE YEARS AFTER MY BIRTH AND THAT WAS THE REASON WHY MY FATHER TOOK A SECOND WIFE.SINCE THE DEATH OF MY FATHER, MY STEP MOTHER HAS BEEN NEGLECTING MY RIGHT AS THE FIRST SON AND DOES NOT WANT ME TO HAVE ANY SHARE IN MY FATHER'S BUSINESS EMPIRE.ALL HER CONCERN IS ABOUT HER PERSONAL CHILDREN AND BECAUSE OF THAT NO ATTENTION IS BEING GIVEN TO ME.
 
BUT BEFORE THE DEATH  OF MY FATHER,AS HIS FIRST SON,HE SERECTLY DISCLOSED TO  ME THAT HE DEPOSITED THE SUM OF {$10.5M} IN A SECURITY COMPANY WHICH IS  BASED IN ACCRA,GHANA AND ALSO KEPT UNDER MY CARE THE(DEPOSIT CERTIFICATE).DUE TOTHE CONDITION OF OUR  FAMILY,AND AS I DO NOT WANT ANY MEMBER OF OUR FAMILY TO BE AWARE OF THE DEVELOPMENT, I CANNOT CLAIM THE MONEY MYSELF.
 
IN VIEW OF THIS,I WANT YOU TO PRESENT YOURSELF AS MY FATHER'S FOREIGN PARTNER SO THAT THE FUND WOULD BE RELEASED TO YOU AFTER WHICH I WOULD COME OVER TO YOUR COUNTRY FOR THE SHARING OF THE FUND.YOU ARE ENTILED TO  RECEIVE 30% OF THE TOTAL SUM AFTER THE FINAL CONCLUSION OF THE TRANSACTION.
 
BEAR IN MIND THAT HONESTY AND SINCERITY SHALL BE OUR WATCH WORD IN  THE COURSE OF THIS TRANSACTION.AS SOON AS YOU INDICATE YOUR WILLINGNESS TO HELP ME OUT,I SHALL LET YOU  KNOW THE NEXT STEP WE SHALL TAKE.
 
HAVE MY BEST REGARDS AND GOD BLESS YOU.
 
BELLO NUMAN.

Get in there! Some Ghanaian bloke I've never met wants to give me $3,150,000! And there was me thinking that today was a total write-off.

Hmmm. His name is Bello Numan. I wonder if he's related to Gary Numan. That would be the sub-zero icing on the cool cake.

Picture by aresauburn.

Kind-of. I guess that if I'm only going to update this blog once every month, there has to be a chance that the timing of one of these updates occurs in one of the occasional small windows when I'm not grumbling about something.

So, I've been having some fun tooling around with Translation Party, a website that takes an English phrase, translates it into Japanese, then back into English, then back into Japanese, and so on... until it either gets bored or the phrase no longer changes between translation cycles. The website refers to this point as 'equilibrium'. The main point of achieving 'equilibrium' appears to be to create some sort of English-to-Engrish translator.

Anyway, I decided that instead of paying all the bills that I need to pay today, it would be a much better idea to bung a load of phrases through Translation Party and post them here. But which phrases? Should I pick them at random? Should I raid my bookshelf for text to turn into Engrish? And then it came to me. I have already remarked that there is one relatively well-known person who struggles considerably with his shaky grasp of the English language – so who better to benefit from such a language-improvement service? Therefore, I present...

Nick Griffin's Famous Soundbites, Now With Added 'Equilibrium'

Nick Griffin on homosexuality (translated into Engrish):

"Most people, my people and I are a lot of reasons to find I'm allergic to the TV. There is a need to expose the meaning of these creatures. I'm Gay Perversions that between one in 18 people in front of journalists every day, providing war."

Nick Griffin on the Holocaust (translated into Engrish):

"World War II, EU and hysteria has reached a very useful story in a beautiful symbol of the witch in a mixture of the latter."

Nick Griffin on defending power (translated into Engrish):

"People need to crack your head to take a break."

Nick Griffin on the monarchy (translated into Engrish):

"Right, our last king, queen, and I have a lot of people. You are not the only opportunity – you can give a potential embarrassment to the British National Party."

Nick Griffin on making the BNP message more palatable (translated into Engrish):

"In fact, this non-white racial superiority, the Civil War, we, chauvinism, white life, many many people live in fear of."

Nick Griffin on asylum (translated into Engrish):

"I need to be killed in the sea - if I was in Libya."

Easy target, you say?

Picture by Andrew Rennie.

For my first mediocre blog post in almost 2 months, I thought I'd take a leaf out of Siany's book and post a simple list.

So here we go. In no particular order, here are the 5 most prominent things that are currently irking me:

• Being snidely criticised for pointing things out factually, instead of joining some fucking mass hallucination that blatantly contradicts the self-evident facts of a matter.
• The Royal Mail (again).
• An all-day sore throat and headache.
• Being treated like a small fish in a big pond, when actually the pond is merely medium-sized (and my dimensions aren't that diminutive either, in this specific context).
• The Webjam editor's tendency to put spaces on the end of every line, which shag up the formatting but then mysteriously disappear whenever I try to delete them, causing me to inadvertently delete something else instead.

I am often critical of those who seem incapable of learning from their past mistakes or making any connection between cause and effect.

However, in the case of the consumption of alcohol, it would seem that I must be a hypocrite in this respect. What other explanation can there be for my deciding that it would be a good idea to drink a pint of Fuller's Discovery, a pint of shandy, a bottle of Peroni, a bottle of some South African cider, a pint of Guinness, a LARGE bottle of Peroni, a LARGE bottle of San Miguel, a White Russian, two Long Island Iced Teas, a Mohito and a bottle of Badger in one sitting, whilst obviously knowing the inevitable repercussions of such behaviour?

I suppose I should be greatful that I didn't decide to top it up with red wine.

The other evening, Jason asked me what my top ten albums of all time would be. I failed this test completely by managing to come up with a mere three, then saying "but there are just soooo many good albums" and running out of inspiration.

Anyway, since this incident, I have been considering the matter. Music is so important to me, and I've been enthused by so many albums at various points in time that it is really tricky to compile a top ten. However, I still feel I should have a go – it seems disrespectful to my music collection not to.

So, with the benefit of my CD collection close at hand, here is my second attempt. I have not ranked these albums in any order of preference or worthiness – that would be impossible. All of the following albums share roughly equal levels of accolade.

• Radiohead: The Bends. Such a go-to album. It's full of tracks that seem to be incapable of growing old. Possibly the most listened-to CD in my collection.
• Pink Floyd: The Dark Side Of The Moon. No explanation needed, surely?
• Ben Folds Five: Ben Folds Five. A toss-up between this and their subsequent album, Whatever And Ever Amen. All of my friends thought I had lost my mind when I bought, and then raved about, this album. But I'll still stand by it. Melodic, lyrical, unpretentious. It pains me that Ben Folds Five later became dull and then disbanded.
• Michael Jackson: Thriller. Let's get this straight – this was always going to be in my top ten, regardless of recent news. No bandwagon here. I have inflicted this album on many sceptical visitors, and none have complained. Coolest, funkiest pop album ever.
• U2: Achtung Baby. As with all U2 albums, this does have a couple of 'fillers' which can easily be skipped. But it represents something of a zeitgeist for me – the band's controversial (at the time) reinvention seemed to fit nicely into my first term at university. It was also the prelude to my first U2 concert on the groundbreakingly excessive first leg of the Zoo TV tour.
• Leftfield: Leftism. Too loud, dark and poundy for many. Not me. I love the African influences and the vaguely futuristic production. One of those albums that 'raises the bar'.
• Deacon Blue: Raintown. Yeah yeah, take the piss if you want. But this was the soundtrack to many happy teenage memories, so you can fuck off. Some anthemic tunes here.
• Thom Yorke: The Eraser. This is probably the most controversial album on the list. Most Radiohead fans seem to be pretty sniffy about this solo effort. But... I have to confess that I like this album marginally more than any Radiohead release. There, I said it. Sure, it's very electronic, but that's never been a problem for me, and the synths and beats support the songs rather than dominating them. Dark and wintery, but not depressing. Soulful.
• The Prodigy: Music For The Jilted Generation. A mere half-step away from its Ravey-Davey-Gravey predecessor (Experience), but a big shift in theme. I always get the feeling that Liam Howlett must have been thinking "fuck all that smiley-face shite, let's make something a little bit nasty" when he was putting this together. It has aged rather well.
• Sigur Ros: Takk... Achingly beautiful music, voiced in a made-up language. Everyone must own at least one Sigur Ros album.

I feel like the bloke from High Fidelity. I should probably make a mix-tape and give it to a girl now*.

So we're in the middle of another tube strike. In a way, it evokes nostalgia from a couple of years ago, when there seemed to be a strike every week throughout the summer (especially on sunny days, or days when England were playing in the Roastball World Cup). However, it's obviously not a good feeling.

One thing that is perplexing me about the strike right now is the complete contrast of information being given by the two different sides in this dispute. I thought I'd try to summarise this, from reported statements by both the RMT and TfL:

No matter how you look at this, it's logically impossible that both sides are being truthful here. So who's lying?

If we were to take this dispute in isolation, with no knowledge of recent RMT-led strikes, then it would be hard to know which side to believe. It's just the RMT's word against TfL's. However, this isn't an isolated incident. The RMT has a history of calling strikes for spurious, confused and transparently contradictory or illegitimate reasons*, so I certainly know who I believe.

If the RMT ever wants to be taken seriously again, they'll need to shed their 'boy who cried wolf' image, instead of reinforcing everyone's opinion that they are a bunch of lazy, greedy, duplicitous, pugnacious cunts.

1. The one where the RMT threatened to strike because City Hall was "rubbishing" their leader in the press.
2. The one where the RMT called a strike on New Year's Eve 2005, which was completely unsupported by the tube workers, leading to them call a subsequent strike nine days later over "safety issues" caused by the original failed strike.
3. The one where, during the aforementioned RMT-led strike on "safety" grounds, there was a simultaneous "wildcat strike" demanding the reinstatement of a driver who had fallen asleep on the job, and driven his train straight through a platform at London Bridge (and a red signal) at almost six times the speed limit. Safety, eh?
   
4. The one where the RMT couldn't seem to make up their mind about the reason for a strike, and strike supporters claimed that it was about: (a) safety; (b) pay; (c) jealousy over some TfL salaries; (d) the war in Iraq; (e) the fact that not all workers at King's Cross received medals for their good work in the immediate aftermath of the 7/7 bombings.

I know this blog seems to have become, of late, something of a litany of things that annoy me. Sorry about that. I promise I have no intention to become (any more of) a grumpy old git.

But right now, Royal Mail are really trying their hardest to piss me off. Reasons:

1. They drive their massive articulated lorries up and down the road outside my flat, seemingly all night long. Actually, 'drive' is not the correct word. Hmmm... maybe 'hurtle' would be more accurate? Anyway, this high-speed movement of heavy goods vehicles over speed-bumps makes my flat shudder, vibrate and generally wobble. Sure, I have become acclimatised to this, but it's still annoying to be woken up by the sound of the roof falling in*.
2. They drove one of their massive articulated lorries into the side of my parked car a few weeks ago, then buggered off without leaving any details. As well as constituting a criminal offence, this has left me hundreds of pounds out of pocket (at least until my insurance company can persuade them to admit liability).
3. They have recently started leaving those "Sorry, you were out" red cards in my mailbox. This would be fair enough if I actually was out when they called. But I wasn't. On the last few occasions I was actually waiting in for the delivery – the stupid lazy dickwits obviously just couldn't be bothered to ring the bell. Now I have to go to the sorting office to collect the parcel myself (dodging the lorries on the way).

And that's that.

* OK, so the roof hasn't actually fallen in yet. But sometimes it really does sound like it's about to, which is a pretty irksome way to be awoken.

Non-news story of the day is concerned with BNP leader Nick Griffin’s decision to not attend a garden party at Buckingham Palace.

For me, the most interesting part of this story is the speech that Mr Griffin delivered outside the Houses of Parliament to explain his decision. One part in particular, which I have transcribed from the TV footage of his speech, must be a strong contender for the least coherent couple of sentences ever uttered by a British politician:

"We thought long and hard about this and particularly with the way in which the intellectual elite in parliament are trying to use their own corruption as an excuse to revoli… revolutionise the place behind us to take out the pomp and the circumstance and the British tradition, we don’t want to give them the opportunity to use us in the British National Party to further their ends particularly by potentially embarrassing the Queen and the institution of the monarchy. Our institutions are in enough trouble as they are at present."

Even if you disregard the dodgy sentence structure and grammar, it seems to me that the entire point of this part of his speech is at best based around a glaring non-sequitur, or is at worst utterly meaningless.

Paradoxically, I would have thought that Mr Griffin would have been amongst the first to insist that British politicians should have a basic grasp of the English language, given his previously offered views on such matters. Still, I can imagine that he will soon be doing his bit to reduce unemployment figures by advertising for the services of a speechwriter.

As an insufferable geek, I have decided that boring you with my concerns over the construction of my new barbecue is not enough. Oh no. I now intend to further bore you with near-realtime updates on my progress towards meaty nirvana.

8:04pm. Removed the most obvious spurious packaging and laid out the pieces nicely. Tempted to count all the pieces to see if I've got everything that the instruction booklet says I should, but surely half the fun of these types of endeavour is to get half way through the assembly before being frustrated by the vital missing part.

8:12pm. Gathered the tools mandated by the instruction booklet: cross-head screwdriver, suitable adjustable spanner (I assume this is the same thing as a 'wrench'?*). Opted to add a few extra tools based on my own judgement: unsuitably large wrench (in case I want to properly fuck up any of the nuts), power drill with screwdriver attachment (in case I want to mash any of the screw heads), Guinness in a Hoegaarden glass, Radio 6 (not pictured).

8:45pm. Assembly step 1 (of 18) completed. These are by no means the worst self-assembly instructions I have had to follow, but they still serve as a reminder of how good Ikea instructions really are. Perspective, eh? Guinness supply dangerously low.

8:56pm. Guinness finished; being replenished. Completed step 2, only to discover that I got step 1 wrong. Redoing step 1.

9:27pm. Step 1 did not readily lend itself to being redone. Apparently machine screws only like being screwed into metal once, and fuck around incessantly if you ever try to make them do it again. Hungry now. Will commence some sort of cooking operation (sadly not al-fresco) and crack on with step 3.

10:08pm. Just had to use the oversized wrench (in step 5). Normal wrench was not big enough to attach the nut to the back of the push-button jobbie behind the control panel. Dinner nearly ready.

10:25pm. Step 6 turned out to be deceptively fiddly – one of those moments when you need an extra hand or two. Managed it eventually with the help of both my thighs and some swearing. Food is ready.

11:11pm. Step 8 being a bitch. Things not lining up. Having to loosen screws in the hope that everything will start playing nicely. Last Action Hero on the TV. What the hell is a Venturi Tube anyway?

11:30pm. Over-tightened a screw in step 9 and stripped the tread a bit. The electrode is now a bit loose on the burner. Does this matter? Hmmm.

Midnight. The barbecue is starting to look a bit like a barbecue. Step 11.

12:30am. Ah, the old use-your-head-plus-one-foot-to-support-the-shelf-you-are-attaching-with-both-hands technique. I'm getting quite fed up with this now.

12:50am. Finally, the basic assembly (steps 1 to 17) is done. Reassuringly, the golden rule of self-assembly has been observed – I have 5 washers left over. The ominous-sounding leak testing is next, but that's going to have to wait until daylight.

11:03am. Hmmm. Leak testing would appear to have to take place outdoors, on the patio. ("WARNING: OUTDOOR USE ONLY!") But it's been pissing down with rain all morning. I will wait.

12:55pm. Stopped raining long enough for me to lug the thing outside, connect it to the gas bottle, and commence the leak testing. Instructions say that I should smear everything with soapy water and look for bubbles to indicate a gas leak. Great, but isn't soapy water full of bubbles anyway? Still, looks OK to me. Final test, FIRE IT UP!

1:07pm. Success! The Beast fired up without incident. Only two attempts at ignition required, although I was surprised that the flame is almost colourless, the sound and heat of a working barbecue is unmistakeable. All I have to do now is sort out the mess that is my patio so that I have somewhere sensible to position it.

Let the meat-fest begin.

I am man. Man make fire. Man cook meat on fire until it look burnt*.

Yes, as part of the lengthy foreplay before I get to pop my patio cherry, I have just purchased my first ever barbecue. And what a mighty beast it is.

Well, by 'mighty', I mean cheap. And in this context 'beast' == 'gas-powered appliance'**. But still, I'm excited. Although I think my excitement might soon be tempered by a handful of forthcoming frustrations.

Potential Frustration #1: Assembly

Despite the apparent simplicity of The Mighty Beast once assembled, it would appear to be composed of an alarmingly large number of pieces. Look:

And in case that picture does not fully demonstrate the full extent of the catalogue of components required for assembly, here is some more quantitative proof:

Yes, that comes to 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 3 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 4 + 4 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 4 + 20 + 8 + 4 + 2 + 4 + 10 + 8 + 2 + 3 + 2 + 4 + 22. No less than 147 separate pieces.

Who wants to bet that the end result of my assembly efforts turns out something like Homer's efforts?

Potential Frustration #2: Gas

I actually have some 'patio gas'. I inherited it from my flat's previous owners, with the defunct*** patio heater. Research tells me that it's also the correct type of gas (more luck than judgement there).

Of course, I didn't know how much gas I had inherited. Fortunately, I was able to use SCIENCE and BATHROOM SCALES to calculate that I have 10kg of gas left – about 20 hours of hard-core barbecuing. Obviously my calculations are foolproof, and there's no chance of me running out of gas within the first three minutes of hosting a barbecue-related gathering. Oh no.

I'm more worried about the safety of said gas. According to various warning labels, I'm going to have to connect this old inherited gas cylinder to the thingy, and then "leak test all connections". If I do not, then I could apparently be risking "serious injury, or damage to the barbecue". I also know from experience that burning hair smells horrible, and to be honest I don't have that much hair to spare.

Potential Frustration #3: Suitably Manly Foodstuffs

Right now, the most barbecueable foodstuff I have to hand is some mushrooms. And not the interesting type either. Still I imagine that, based on the previous two frustration-points I doubt I'll be in any position to actually try cooking on the thing this evening anyway. Oh well.

Wish me luck...