Looks good...not sure how long I'll wait til I have to get one.

Ken Clarke vs. Peter Mandleson

There's just something funny about this...more banter than debate.

So, I believe I hit a new low two days ago. Having gotten into the regime of going to the gym before work, I have a pretty slick preparation process the evening before. This is so that, in my semi-slumber, I don't have to stagger around my bedroom packing my bag and most fundamentally remember to take things so I don't end up at work with a tea-towel and one shoe in my bag.

This planning is prone to human error, which reared its ugly head on Tuesday morning. Having been the gym I unpacked my work clothes...shirt, trousers, fresh boxers....socks? SOCKS?...No socks. This wouldn't be a disaster on a casual day, but wearing a suit with sweaty white gym socks is pretty much the faux-pas of all faux-pas. I panicked. What options do I have? Is the white socks option that bad? Yes. When I put my hands on my head in near surrender, I spotted my forbidden fruit taunting me on a radiator. Someone had left their worn Homer Simpson socks tantalisingly dangling in front of me.

I hurriedly took the socks.

As I pulled them on over my feet I was filled with guilt and shame. I'm a great believer in forgiveness and that people will make one mistake at some stage in their life, they might cheat on a girlfriend, start a fight or steal something that's not theirs. What I'm most upset about is, I effectively wasted my one theft on a pair of sweaty Homer Simpson socks.

Academia will only take you so far...

The following is an actual question given on a University chemistry final exam.

The answer by one student was so “profound” that the professor shared it with colleagues via the Internet, which is why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law that gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that, if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell.

Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell. Because Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay constant, the volume of Hell must expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Sandra during my freshman year, that “it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,” and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is endothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is extinct…leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being - which explains why, last night, Sandra kept shouting “Oh God!”

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY “A”.

Why did Kraft pay £11.7bn for Cadbury? Because Americans can't make chocolate...

I was going to blog about this and say pretty much exactly the same thing, before Toby Young beat me to it:

I remember the first time I bit into a Hershey Bar. It was the summer of 1976 and I was 12 years old. I’d never been to America before and the first thing I wanted to do on touching down at JFK was sink my teeth into one of these legendary chocolate bars. I was already a fan of American cuisine, being an enthusiastic early adopter of the McDonald’s outlet in Muswell Hill, and was confident American chocolate would knock our own into a cocked hat in much the same way that Big Macs were superior to Wimpy burgers.

I tore off the wrapper, bit off a sizeable chunk and began to chew greedily. Hang on a second … something wrong here … Where was that familiar hit of cocoa? The lovely sensation of squashing a square against the roof of your mouth? It tasted more like a bar of soap than a bar of chocolate. It seemed inconceivable that American GIs had been able to seduce nice English girls during the Second World War by proffering one of these bars alongside a pair of nylons. Next to this, Cadbury’s Dairy Milk was pure ambrosia.

"I went to the coronation in '53, we sat in the heavens looking down at the throne...the chair. I went with my wife, who was pregnant at the time, not as pregnant as she looked as we packed sandwiches under her dress, we ate them while we watched the coronation"

- Tony Benn (Legend)

Florence and the Machine - Lungs. Really good album.

Went to the British Museum yesterday and took this picture of their Great Hall - I'd seen the new roof there before but it's still pretty slick.

At the time of Christ, men would meet on street corners to discuss philosophy and religious revolution. Their conversations would be punctuated by nervous glances over their shoulders looking for soldiers ready to throw them to the lions. They wouldn't know who to trust or who to engage, and ran much like the French resistance during the war, by leaving signs on walls and drawing a well-known fish symbol ('Ichthus') in the sand.

And so on Friday night, in a Brick Lane curry house I negotiated some rickerty stairs to find the Gents hidden in the basement. As I carried out my business, I glanced up - as is customary when you have nothing to do and your hands are engaged - to see the below etched on the ceiling:



For the unaware, it undoubtedly stands for Leeds United Football Club. I smiled, and began to think about how few Leeds fans I know personally, yet know they are out there in their masses. Driven underground ever since our fall from grace a few years ago, we leave ourselves wide open to attack from the followers of other faiths, particularly in London. This sad fate has brought about a resilient pride, with chants of "We're not famous anymore" at the inevitably packed grounds up and down the country from Old Trafford to St Mary's, who all turn up to see us -the scalps - play.

This evening I went to the House of Lords to watch a Bill "get the nod through" (little did I know, this literally happens when the question of royal assent is brought up). Basically, try and imagine what you think a building full of wise old men looks, smells and feels like and times it by ten. It's amazing - I love my job.

I've had to think long and hard about who would be my Man of 2009. In a year of turbulence it's been difficult to pick out greatness, and I've resisted the temptation to go for the hollow easy choices - cool people, research into someone nobody would have heard of to make me look intelligent...instead I've gone for someone who has gained respect in a very British way. That man is Peter Andre (no...seriously...stop laughing).

For the right reasons Peter has been mocked by the British public ever since he flopped onto our music charts in the 90s with, really, quite poor music that only staggers on in ironic theme bars full of hen parties. But, like many a martyr, it was a disastrous year that showed his real fibre. His gritty split with Katie Price (Jordan) took its toll yet he marched on resolute, refusing to divulge or descend into publicity-grabbing filth. For once, Max Clifford was on the wrong side.

As Arthur Miller rightly pointed out in a View from the Bridge, 'the British admire courage' and he's been rewarded in our swelling support.

"...Well I don't know..."

Officially the best conversation saver ever, this guy deserves a medal. We've all been there, when someone turns the conversation sour for no real reason and it kills it, dead. It's like, 'thanks for that love...did you not see the twee montage of laughter and Ronan Keating? It was going so bloody well before you started banging on about your wheelchair. Zip it.' Except, you can't say that, so everyone just looks at each other with raised eyebrows and puffed cheeks (in that order).

I've often wondered how to combat such a social situation without causing offense. A popular one is to mock the comment, which will burn one bridge but everyone else will think you're funny and/or a hero for saving the situation (NB Don't try it when you're 'the new guy' and everyone else has known each other for years, it burns all bridges and will leave you on the pavement cursing Addison Lee for their 1 hour Saturday night wait for a cab).

So, if in doubt, try and go for this route. It's all in the tone, sympathetic, disarming and deflecting. Awesome move.

Some things in life are satisfying for no particular reason. It's these hidden gems, quick wins and small victories that keep me going:

1. The feeling of loading a full dishwasher and switching it on

2. Jumping on the tube just before the doors close

3. When a round of drinks comes to exactly £10

4. Throwing something into a bin from a great distance

5. Going into Waitrose/Sainsburys just as they unload the freshly baked baguettes

6. Cracking an egg perfectly

7. Assembling furniture from IKEA correctly

8. Finding a £20 note in a coat pocket

9. When you foresee a car racing through a puddle and adjust your umbrella accordingly

10. Friday 5pm

FA Cup 3rd Round: Man Utd vs Leeds

"Leeds are bringing 9,000 fans, so it will be a busy day for the police. But it will be an absolutely brilliant atmosphere and should be a good cup tie as well."

- Sir Alex Ferguson

Leona can't hold a candle to this version. And she was voted out after this! Joke!

Cool Advert

Have decided against a generic Happy New Year post with a predictable picture of Big Ben and fireworks. Instead, I've just seen this new Walkers advert. I love them ever since Gary got involved but this one is class. Enjoy.