It's 21:32 on Saturday the 28th and the world is currently populated by experts in depression, avionics and human behaviour.
Yeah, everyone knows what I mean (except you, because there's always one).
First it was a common or garden plane crash, with no discernible cause. So, terrorism, right? Appalling scenes of devastation over a huge area of the Alps and already the speculation is rife, but only on which favour of Muslim is responsible for the atrocity.
Suddenly they find one of the 'black boxes' (which is red, as it turns out) and despite the damage some data is recovered that appears to show some disturbing events; a locked flight cabin door, a pilot returning from (presumably) the toilet and a switching of the autopilot from 38,000 feet to 100 feet. The co-pilot can be heard breathing. The plane crashes.
It turns out that the man suffered from depression, had been treated and, well, after that it was like tossing a handful of mentos into a bucket of full fat cola. Fwoosh!
So, the state of play is now spread amongst Muslim treachery (there is a rumour he's a radical convert), depression and a need to end it all or the result of a love gone sour and a desperate plummet to death as a response. None of these make any sense to me.Friends report no religious changes or behavioural aberrations in the time leading up to the crash, no morbidity because of the relationship problems, but there is evidence of depression. so that must be it. Oh, one out-of-left-field mention also mentioned the requirement for a conversation on abuse as part of the response. This poor man is being accused of terrorism and murder without a shred of evidence outside of the interpretation of a small part of the flight recorders data. The 2nd flight recorder has, as yet, not been found. This would give a more complete picture of the functional state of the aircraft immediately prior to the crash. This would be good.
There are also some actually qualified people from the airline industry who are questioning the rumours by using their actual knowledge of the aircraft and the way it works. There is a suggestion that the cockpit may have depressurised, causing hypoxia in the co-pilot ad for the pane to automatically descend rapidly to a height where people could breathe. Of course the airline industry would say this because conspiracy, big-business, vested interest, blah blah blah.
If it does turn out to be mechanical/component failure I hope those who leapt in with accusations of terrorist madman have the decency to apologise.
We can only wait.
Saturday, 28 March 2015
Clarkson Major and his gang are in trouble!
So, the JC situation seems to be staggering towards a conclusion in the same way that every season of Lost did, with sense that there will be more to come but no one knows what on earth will happen.
The details are still somewhat sketchy but it seems like the incident itself was probably no more than the kind of late night altercation that happens with alarming regularity. The problem, of course, is that one of the perpetrators happens to be a figure of notoriety. What we know is that, after a day of filming JC and at least James May went on the lash to a pub, came back to find the restaurant was closed and there was no hot food available. Clarkson then 'snapped' and went into a full on rant at whom he thought was responsible before roughing him up somewhat. Oisin Tymon, the 'victim', seems to be remaining remarkable quiet about the whole thing, presumably because the other party is well known and loved/hated in equal measure by, literally, millions, and he isn't. Even people who don't like Clarkson that much (me) can take an objective view of his methods and procedures and see pretty clearly why he has millions, an audience of some 350 million worldwide and the cachet of 'being' Top Gear. No one had even heard of Oisin until this blew up. I feel so sorry for this guy as he is being wrongly blamed for the demise of, sorry Jezza, an oaf.
Jeremy clarkson, oft reported scion of the originators of Paddington Bear's soft toy presence is the epitome of the privately educated head boy, sorry, Head Boy. He is the Snr Prefect with his fag Hammond hovering close by in the hope of receiving reflected glory and acting as a living foil to the 'blokey banter' that is the Clarkson comedy half hour. Lurking nervously close by is young James May; the geek to whom no one will speak but has some special skills that are recognised by Clarkson and may come in handy. Some time. In the interim he'll do to take the piss out of and berate for being too serious, over-educated and a bit of a swot. May, having no other friends, puts up with this. Hilarity ensues.
Of course the truth is probably miles away from this. There is the publicly displayed symbiosis of Clarkson/Hammond/May, behaving like a single organism. In reality they ll have their own presence in the world; Hammond with his radio-friendly game-show voice, doing silly games and the occasional 'really interesting' bit of 'proper' reporting. James May has made a career out of being fifteen in the nineteen sixties and bemoaning the loss of all those old 'proper' educationally inspiring toys. All lightweight stuff delivered with the same boyish panache that they employ on TG. Hammond's crash showed Clarkson had a heart as he demonstrated how much he actually cared, but but was still delivered in that laughingly masked manner that most men who are scared shitless of their emotions do. May mumbles and mutters something vaguely vague, goes home.
Watching TG these days is like looking through a window to a Britain that no longer exists, to a world where everyone knew their place and rocking the boat was the province of a privileged few. The number of slaps to the wrist has increased manyfold in the near past and even some of the most die hard TG fans were beginning to question the format and delivery. The biggest indicator for e was the impassioned piece by Steve Coogan, someone who has a rich history with the marque, and the thought that Top Gear was an idea whose time had finally run out. Perhaps Jezza was acting out a hidden desire to leave, to generate a 'blaze of glory' exit that would have the effect of cementing his reputation rather than simply signing off.
Whatever the haters and the lovers think of him, it's over. Top Gear is no longer his to steer, to use as his own private party space. Hammond and May will no doubt move on to more daytime and BBC4 level programs before sliding slowly out of sight. I guess there is always the possibility that some other network will take up the cause but commercial TV is notoriously sponsor-sensitive and I can't see them letting Clarkson have the leeway afforded at the Beeb. Maybe, free from the shackles of the TG format he might resent a different front, his appearances on HIGNFY and Qi have always shown him as a much more user-friendly celebrity.
Lucky for him the events over the Alps have pushed the furore back into the inside pages and it seems that the whole situation is now slowing down to an ignominious end.
The details are still somewhat sketchy but it seems like the incident itself was probably no more than the kind of late night altercation that happens with alarming regularity. The problem, of course, is that one of the perpetrators happens to be a figure of notoriety. What we know is that, after a day of filming JC and at least James May went on the lash to a pub, came back to find the restaurant was closed and there was no hot food available. Clarkson then 'snapped' and went into a full on rant at whom he thought was responsible before roughing him up somewhat. Oisin Tymon, the 'victim', seems to be remaining remarkable quiet about the whole thing, presumably because the other party is well known and loved/hated in equal measure by, literally, millions, and he isn't. Even people who don't like Clarkson that much (me) can take an objective view of his methods and procedures and see pretty clearly why he has millions, an audience of some 350 million worldwide and the cachet of 'being' Top Gear. No one had even heard of Oisin until this blew up. I feel so sorry for this guy as he is being wrongly blamed for the demise of, sorry Jezza, an oaf.
Jeremy clarkson, oft reported scion of the originators of Paddington Bear's soft toy presence is the epitome of the privately educated head boy, sorry, Head Boy. He is the Snr Prefect with his fag Hammond hovering close by in the hope of receiving reflected glory and acting as a living foil to the 'blokey banter' that is the Clarkson comedy half hour. Lurking nervously close by is young James May; the geek to whom no one will speak but has some special skills that are recognised by Clarkson and may come in handy. Some time. In the interim he'll do to take the piss out of and berate for being too serious, over-educated and a bit of a swot. May, having no other friends, puts up with this. Hilarity ensues.
Of course the truth is probably miles away from this. There is the publicly displayed symbiosis of Clarkson/Hammond/May, behaving like a single organism. In reality they ll have their own presence in the world; Hammond with his radio-friendly game-show voice, doing silly games and the occasional 'really interesting' bit of 'proper' reporting. James May has made a career out of being fifteen in the nineteen sixties and bemoaning the loss of all those old 'proper' educationally inspiring toys. All lightweight stuff delivered with the same boyish panache that they employ on TG. Hammond's crash showed Clarkson had a heart as he demonstrated how much he actually cared, but but was still delivered in that laughingly masked manner that most men who are scared shitless of their emotions do. May mumbles and mutters something vaguely vague, goes home.
Watching TG these days is like looking through a window to a Britain that no longer exists, to a world where everyone knew their place and rocking the boat was the province of a privileged few. The number of slaps to the wrist has increased manyfold in the near past and even some of the most die hard TG fans were beginning to question the format and delivery. The biggest indicator for e was the impassioned piece by Steve Coogan, someone who has a rich history with the marque, and the thought that Top Gear was an idea whose time had finally run out. Perhaps Jezza was acting out a hidden desire to leave, to generate a 'blaze of glory' exit that would have the effect of cementing his reputation rather than simply signing off.
Whatever the haters and the lovers think of him, it's over. Top Gear is no longer his to steer, to use as his own private party space. Hammond and May will no doubt move on to more daytime and BBC4 level programs before sliding slowly out of sight. I guess there is always the possibility that some other network will take up the cause but commercial TV is notoriously sponsor-sensitive and I can't see them letting Clarkson have the leeway afforded at the Beeb. Maybe, free from the shackles of the TG format he might resent a different front, his appearances on HIGNFY and Qi have always shown him as a much more user-friendly celebrity.
Lucky for him the events over the Alps have pushed the furore back into the inside pages and it seems that the whole situation is now slowing down to an ignominious end.
Tuesday, 17 March 2015
DEATH comes to us all, he offered Mort a job but the bastard took Terry with him!
Sad days all round as Sir DiscWorld left us after a long struggle with Alzheimer's.
It's been an odd couple of weeks. My own personal life has had the odd blip with some fairly naff family news involving, oddly enough, Alzheimer's and Asperger’s looming large, an exam I was stressing over (with no need, as it turned out) and some show business people being professionally arsey. And one of my literary favourites, another one, left us.
I read my first Pratchett completely by accident, buying a copy of Dark Side of the Sun to see me through a train journey to that London. It turned out to be one of the best Sci Fi books I'd red, so I looked for more and found Strata, still, to me, one of the best Sci Fi books I've read and obviously the seed for the DiscWorld. Both books screamed Pratchett's disdain for so much of what makes up out so-called civilisation ad the oceans of hypocrisy and unfairness that runs through it. Kin Arad is still my fave TP creation. Rincewind, the Luggage and DEATH come a joint second though.
I won't go on about the content; every reader will have his or her own, unique, relationship with the DiscWorld and the ever-moving forwardness of it. Have a debate with any one of them (us, maybe) about the representation of the Patrician and how he illustrates [insert your own ideology here]. No, this isn't about wot he rote at all. Neil Gaiman once said that Sir Tel wasn't a cute little old man telling tales, but that he was angry as hell about everything. I think that shines out in his tales. Sadly I never got to meet the an but all who did said he was a 'good bloke', always ready with a witty or pithy phrase, happy to meet the people who made him rich and liked him and so on. I saw his documentary on taking ones own life and it moved me to streams of tears, and I still would like to think it will happen; that one day we will have mastery over our own exit.
It has left me, however, bloody annoyed. It's less than a year and a half since my all-time favourite author was nicked by DEATH, Iain Banks. Another advocate for equality and being able to architect ones own exit and, in my mind, the finest SciFi writer this country has produced. There was a decent interval between Douglas Adams and these two but honestly I have no idea what I'm going to be reading now. Yes, the loss of others brings out our own, terrible, selfishness. I imagine I'll get by, somehow.
So it was with interest that I earned of the situation regarding Jeremy Clarkson. now JC has a tremendous worldwide following. The popularity of Top Gear is unchallenged in its genre. I know Game of Thrones is the most downloaded telly in the quadrant but the brouhaha over JC and the Cold Meat Platter has been extraordinary. I'm sure that everyone knows, if they care that much, many don't, about the alleged this and that and I'm sure it'll all come out in the wash (although as it's the BBC wash I still suspect whatever remains of the garment when it's removed will be a soiled grey).
As you might imagine, social media has been alive with pro and anti-Clarkson rhetoric with arguments put forward on both sides as to the reasons why, and why not, JC should be re-instated or burnt as the anti-Christ. I found myself included in a twitter thread about the popularity of Top Gear, with someone posting that it was 'the most popular show on BBC2, when Robert Llewellyn (Kryten in the ever popular Red Dwarf) making a statement about Red Dwarf being the most watched show, ever, on BBC2. I made a throwaway remark about the tense of this statement; was, not is, and was subjected to a three day long bombardment of, largely, piss-taking nonsense, from another member of the cast. All this because Red Dwarf holds the record for the highest audience figures, 8 and a bit million, for one episode. TG has a worldwide audience of some 350 million and brings in more money and is in competition with far more channels than Red Dwarf had to contend with in its day.
Whatever, statistics apart my pint was that Top Gear is the most popular show BBC2 has, had, to date. My problem is that the two cast members in their robotic mewling about my statement of relative popularity began treating me as if I'd said their program was rubbish, with this petulant post from one of the cast topping the list of rubbish responses;
The fragility of the ego is a topic often covered in Sir Terry's world but I find it hard to imagine him arguing that if you liked a book by another author, who may or may not be more popular than he, that you would be calling him rubbish.
I shall, no doubt, return to Ankh Morpork regularly, mow that there are to be no more sojourns into the mind of maker. There is a hole where the DiscWorld used to be. I won't miss the Long Earth series one bit though. Sorry Sir Tel!
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