Monday, December 18, 2006
I crept out last night behind your back / The little they know might be the pieces I lack
For those that haven’t seen it yet, m’colleague TUPnews has posted his highlights of New York Times Magazine “ideas” issue 2006.
Inspired by this, here are my own offers for ideas and concepts which I think will make it big over the festive period and well into next year.
Withdrawal symptoms
In which individuals who usually maintain a close watch over their personal finances lose all notion of their actual bank balance. A phenomenon attributed to excessive use of debit cards in shops and pubs and increasingly long queues at fewer and fewer cash points meaning less frequent visits to ATMs and more consumers ‘feasting’ rather than ‘nibbling’ at their stash.
The Oppenheim Principle
Whereby, averagely attractive males suffer a revolution in rising expectations after continued success with a more attractive girlfriend. After several happy months insulated from the realities of single life, they trap themselves in a fallacious understanding of their opportunity cost, “Well, if I am managing to successfully date X; imagine who I could be pulling if I was single?”. By the time the sufferer realises dating X was an aberration rather than a sustainable change in his fortunes, it is usually too late.
Thierry Ennui (hat-tip to Marty for this title)
In which talented and flamboyant foreign players deliver a consistently below-par performances because they have either become bored of the Premiership or have not yet adjusted to the workmanlike nature of the English game or their position within the squad.
Café bar outliers
In which the few tall men in a standing party at noisy bar or club are restricted to talking amongst themselves. The background noise and physical distance from the shorter female companions combine to prevent them hearing m any conversation below the median height of the ears and mouths of the rest of the party. Some outliers try and mediate against this risk by leaning in at regular intervals with an irritating “what was that you were saying about Sandra?”, but they are not fooling anyone.
Ad hoc marketing
Whereby PR types and advertisers get thoroughly bored of intelligent cause-related marketing strategies and clever-clever product tie-ins (like Gordon’s Gin for Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen nightmares), and instead take their inspiration from internet pop-up adverts for nonsensical and non-sequitur promotional linkages. E.g. “shoot all the ducks to win a camera phone”.
Golingo
In which the inevitable surge in popularity of the ancient strategy game of Go permeates popular discourse. E.g. football commentators describe a two-on-one attack by central midfielders on goal as the defensive team being held in atari. The phrase ‘taking liberties’ is widely used to describe what happens when someone new moves into the spare room in a shared house.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Where are we from? NORTH WEEZY! / How do we make money? REAL EASY!
So my flat was okay. This is a frank relief.
My girlfriend phoned me at work on Thursday lunchtime and let me know that she had just seen on the Yahoo news front-page that there had been a hurricane in Kensal Rise.
Her tone was more “The funniest things happen in that London of yours”, than “Come quick! There’s been an accident at the plant!” I had a gander on BBC news and see that yes, there had indeed been a tornado, all up in my endz.
At this stage I didn’t know whether to feel more surprised that,
1. My girlfriend gets her news from Yahoo
2. a tornado had hit Chamberlayne road, which my road connects with.
3. Yahoo news was bang on the money.
As more camera phone pictures were uploaded to BBC news throughout the day I didn’t know whether to be more surprised by:
1. The havoc caused to homes within a couple of hundred metres of where I live.
2. the sheer number of people who were at home at 11:30am on a weekday and ready to be vox-popped by the BBC.
By mid-afternoon I was slightly concerned that I might be homeless and would arrive back in NW10 to see the living room from the street. I reluctantly cancelled my pub-quiz plans, and tried to head home, which took me an age.
The walk home from Kensal Green station was rather novel. I imagine my trepidation was similar to that of a parent returning to the family home after a weekend away with the suspicion that their adolescent children had held a party in their absence. The nearer I got to my road the more evidence of damage there was. A bit of broken glass here, a few roofing tiles there. Noticeably more, and more substantial debris than the usual fried chicken flotsam.
I started pacing through a few scenarios in my head. Roof tiles? I could lose a few roof tiles, who’s counting? Maybe I could hack the loss of a window or two? I mean it would be a hassle, but I would get the time off work. But what if all the windows had had it? And Kensal has gone all New Orleans on us and someone is right now looting my Amazon rental DVDs? On the plus side, I thought, if society had collapsed I could make some profit on this, and loot the local cost-cutter for Transform-a-snack and Double Deckers. It would be harsh, like, because they’re a good bunch of lads, but needs must…
I was jolted back to reality of the then and there by the police presence (I mean, of course, the community support officer presence) at the corner of the streets below mine connecting with Chamberlayne road. Each were the same, a cordoned off road and non-plussed support officer.
The road below mine had now cordon, and neither had mine. I turned the corner and glanced up. Absolutely nothing. I got in to the flat and checked the windows, pausing at the front door, expecting a Buster Keaton moment where the door remains in place and the whole front wall of a house comes crashing down over him. But, instead, nothing. Later on I took a jaunt along to Chamberlayne road to see what’s what.
I didn’t know whether to feel lucky that my road seemed to be spared completely, or unlucky on the behalf of my ‘hood that we were the victim of the kind of event a Londoner has no real frame of reference for. “you lost your home in a tornado?...really?…erm…well done!”
I took an early night and resolved to feel lucky that God, the great player of the original Sim City in the sky had saved my green residential square when he had got bored and clicked on the disasters menu.
Peace in the North West.
