No more cow meat in ‘cattle class’.

Over the years I’ve eaten hundreds of airline meals; some bloody awful and some pretty good, although the good ones came mostly when travelling ‘business class’ when someone else was paying for the ticket.

I remember on one occasion when I sat looking at a tray containing a dried up pasta dish, a small hard roll, some sort of pink dessert, two crackers and a morsel of sweaty cheese, when the lady beside me suddenly said … “You should request a Kosher meal”, … “But I’m not Jewish”, I replied … “Neither am I” said the lady, and I must say the contents of her tray looked a lot more appetizing than mine.

I was reminded of that mid-air meal when I read today that British Airways is to stop serving beef in economy-class and instead offer a fish or chicken dish. BA claim that the new meals are “healthier, lighter and without religious prohibitions for all passengers”.  In other words … we don’t want any pissed-off Hindus travelling on our aircraft and we carry an awful lot of them.

Whilst the Hindu Council in this country … “welcomes the descision” … they also say that … “Hindus are tolerant of the beliefs of others and do not expect everyone to stop eating a food because they do not eat it.”

It would seem that once again someone has got their knickers in a twist about offending one of our religious minorities, when obviously the ‘minority’ concerned is not really bothered.

So how many passengers will be ‘bothered’ that BA will now only serve beef to the people sitting in the ‘posh’ seats behind the curtain ? Not many I expect, as most of them didn’t know what they were eating in the first place, and it certainly never tasted like …

…   the ‘Roast Beef of Old England’.

Just look up and smile.

As I was entering the gentlemen’s toilets at my local Sainsbury’s supermarket the other day, I saw a sign on the door warning that CCTV was in operation. I didn’t take too much notice as I was in a bit of a hurry, but as I sat looking at the coat peg on the door of the stall, I noticed another ‘warning’ written in felt-tip ink just above it. It read … ‘Look out for the pinhole camera in the light fitting above your head’. 

A joke ? … Well I hope so, but not too far from the truth if the latest reports on our surveillance mad society are to be believed, for it seems that the UK has more CCTV cameras than any other country in Europe.

Now we know that these cameras are good at making money by catching parking offenders, or people dropping litter in the street, but has all this expensive technology made us all safer ? … Of course it hasn’t. In fact according to the boss of Scotland Yard’s Visual Images, Identifications and Detections Office … “It’s been an utter fiasco”.

All I know is that the bloody things are everywhere, and they are not always easy to spot, because now these devices come in all shapes and sizes and can be disguised as … street lamps … light fittings … smoke alarms etc. … and now you can even be ‘caught on camera’ by your local school crossing ‘lollipop’ lady.

So be warned … Be careful where you park … put your bleedin’ litter in the bin … don’t swear at the lollipop lady … and …

…  don’t use too much toilet paper ! 

‘Cool’ research results.

It looks like those polar bears can stop worrying about their ice floes disappearing if scientists at the Leibniz Institute of Marine Sciences are to be believed, for according to them we are in for a ten year period of global cooling.  Some reports even claim that the earth stopped warming up six years ago.

Now that’s a surprise ! For just when I thought that I was about to be trampled to death by hordes of carbon footprints or asphixiated by the gases in my greenhouse, I now find that I may have made a big mistake by planting date palms in my garden and digging that well.

OK, so I may not be an expert on the subject of climate change, in fact I hardly know my El Niño from my La Niña, but I do feel that most of what is happening to our planet has happened many times before and is perfectly normal.

What has not happened before, however, is that a bunch of greedy bastards have created a whole new ‘climate change industry’ by scaring the shit out of the more gullible amongst us, including some not too bright world leaders.

So I suppose that this new information means that we don’t have to feel guilty anymore about using those patio heaters, spraying our armpits, flying to the ‘Costas’, driving a 4X4, and farting out-of-doors.

Even with petrol (gas) now costing £5 ($9.50) a gallon, this holiday weekend will still see millions of sun seeking motorists clogging up our highways and chucking out clouds of CO2 into the atmosphere.  I wonder how many of them will know that they may no longer need be concerned about increasing the size of  …

… the hole in the ozone layer ? 

Another ‘at the front’ stunt.

Did you know that if Flying Officer Willy Wales was killed when on one of his ‘freebee’ helicopter jaunts, and his brother, the ‘ginger spare’, died under the wheels of a taxi outside ‘Boujis’ when legless, their uncle, ‘Air Miles’ Andy, would be next in line for the throne ?  Which means that Fergie’s daughter, bug-eyed Beatrice, would one day be Queen.

Blimey ! If that doesn’t convert you to the republican cause, nothing will.

It’s nice to see that the latest bit of royal ‘heroics’ is being shown up by the press for what it is … A bloody expensive PR stunt ! Not quite as elaborate as Machine Gun Harry ‘fighting’ the Taliban, but equally as nauseating.

Usually when these two arrogant young arseholes have been ’sticking their fingers up’ to the rest of us and getting a ‘bad press’, some toady at ‘Buck House’ rushes them off for a ’photo opportunity’ at a cancer ward, or has them cuddling an African orphan for the camera, but now it seems that they are to be portrayed as gallant young ‘Galahads’.

Well as Abraham Lincoln once said … “You may fool all the people some of the time, you can even fool some of the people all of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time”  … so let us hope that he was right and that more and more people in this country will see the truth behind these ’stunts’.

After a very short training course Willy’s dad presented him with his pilot’s ‘wings’. I wonder if his Grandma will have the nerve to pin a medal on him …

… for his ’service’ in Afghanistan ?

I can’t wait for The Turner Prize.

A New York Times critic commented that so called artist Martin Creed was … 

…  “a very late conceptualist with no bias against objects, and a devotee of the rarefied art-in-the-street tendency of situationism whose favourite situation seems to be the white cube of a gallery”.

Well he would say that, wouldn’t he, as the ‘art’ in question was two videos in which a person walked in front of a camera trained on an empty white wall and floor, and then threw up before walking away.

Now we are to be treated to a new ‘work’ by Creed to be ‘exhibited’ at Tate Britain which will have a group of athletes running around the Duveen Gallery. He ‘created’ a similar ‘masterpiece’ in Italy where his creations were described in an exhibition brochure as … 

… “a metaphor for the capacity to build art out of nothing or the sisyphean struggle of life” … ”offering an obscure metaphor of today’s looming paranoia and  existentialism” …  ”at the same time an ascetic gesture of disarming
simplicity and an ironic invitation to re-imagine a new destiny”.

It is a little known fact that runners sometimes have to perform their ’bodily functions’ while taking part in a race. Not a pretty sight   but perhaps it is to Mr. Creed and his defeca… dedicated followers. So after pools of vomit, who knows what we might expect to see on the floor of the Duveen Gallery ?

My guess is that it will be a small ’something’ that will truly represent the artistic talent …

… of this master of the minimalist ‘metaphor’.  

Just follow the signs.

Not much time for blogging this week as I’ve been having a few computer problems and some tasks are taking a lot longer to perform than usual.

Wednesday was Saint George’s Day, and being the patriot that I am, I buggered off to France for the day to do some shopping.

(click on all images to enlarge)

The day did not start well, for as I arrived at the Eurotunnel terminal and  pulled into the auto check-in lane I was ‘blinded’ by a huge shower of seagull shit hitting the windscreen of my car. In fact the whole front of the vehicle looked as if someone had thrown a bucket of whitewash all over it. Still, it gave the security guard a good laugh as he checked the car for explosives.

The weather was bloody awful with fog on the motorway between Coquelles and Boulogne, but I wasn’t there for the weather, I was there to load up with French goodies, which despite the fall in the value of the pound are still a ‘good buy’.

I drove back to Le Tunnel sous La Manche in the pissing rain (Well at least it washed off the seagull crap), and was astonished to find the approach roads and the terminal itself almost deserted. Even the McDonald’s ‘Quick’ take-away was closed.  “Sacre Bléu” ! … Do you suppose that the French really eat ‘Le Grand Mac’ ?

After having my car checked again for explosives; this time by a cute little douanier mademoiselle, I proceeded to the UK ‘frontier’, which although still in France is now part of the new United Kingdom Border Agency, which as far as I could tell just means new uniforms and new signs. All the cars were queueing at the sign under the green arrow on the right hand side of the booth where passports are checked. The sign had the usual blue EU flag on it with the words UK and EU citizens. To the left of the booth was another green arrow, but no sign. The only car at that window had a Swiss registration number plate.

Although the French frontier police expect British drivers to be sitting on the right hand side of their cars and direct them to a convenient widow, when my turn came at our own border control I had to get out of the car in the rain, and walk around it to hand my passport to the immigration official. I remarked that … “It would have been easier for me (and the other drivers of British cars) if I could have pulled in at the left hand window” … “Why didn’t you ? ” he asked “My mate is sitting there doing nothing” … “Because the sign directed me here” I replied almost adding .. “you stupid sod”. He looked bemused.

It seems incredible that he hadn’t wondered why there was such a long line of cars waiting to be checked by him while ‘his mate’ only had to check the passports of the occupants of the only non-European Union vehicle to be seen.

Blimey ! …With people like him guarding out borders; what must it be like …

…   at Heathrow’s Terminal Five ? 

Well he was Deputy PIEminister.

Eating disorders are no joke, but I had to laugh when I read that John Prescott had said that he suffered from bulimia, when only recently it was revealed that he claimed £4,000 for food on his expenses as an MP.

Now this self obsessed and self serving politician has come up with this load of old cobblers as a clever way of publicising his memoirs.

I hate to say it, but I did have a sneaking admiration for ’Prezza’, for not many people can come from such humble beginnings and reach one of the highest offices in the land. Unfortunately he seemed to have lost sight of his ‘grass roots’ somewhere along the way to becoming Deputy Prime Minister, and ended up as a much ridiculed member of ‘the establishment’.

Let us hope that all this publicity will help people who suffer from such eating disorders, but I think that old ‘Two Jags’ has got confused between having his head over the toilet bowl and …

…   having his ’snout in the trough’ .

“Shall I check your tyres, sir?”

I watched a very interesting and entertaining programme on TV last night about the author and humourist Dave Gorman’s attempt to drive across the United States from coast to coast, without spending any money at corporate chain motels, petrol (gas) stations, restaurants etc. In other words, no McDonald’s, no Starbucks, no Holiday Inns and no Arcos. The film was called ‘America Unchained’ and I must say that Dave did pretty well, only slipping up once.

When I travelled in the US back in the 70’s and early 80’s I loved all those ‘Mom and Pop’ establishments that you would find on many highways and in small towns everywhere. Most of them where run by such friendly people who were only too pleased to help you in any way that they could. Not to mention feed you to bursting point, sometimes with some very strange food indeed.

I remember once stopping at a diner in some remote part of the ‘deep south’ and being served a Sunday lunch of roast Turkey covered in thick yellow gravy, strange vegetables which may have come from some local swamp for all I knew, and little cakes which I later learned were called ‘corn bread’. Anyway it was pretty good grub, and I would have been pleased to comply with the owners instructions to … “Yer awl come back now. Here !” … If ever I had passed that way again.

During a trip to the west coast I pulled into a parking lot in front of a small Chinese restaurant which was adjacent to a pizza parlour. Both were a bit scruffy looking and sandwiched between the usual Taco Bell and a Burger King. “Which do you fancy ?” .. I asked my wife and daughter. We decided to go for pizza and entered the narrow restaurant and sat at a table. A door opened behind the counter and in walked the Chinese chef from next door followed by a little Chinese lady carrying three large pizza pans. She showed us these so that we could decide on the size of the pizzas we wanted. Yes, this busy Oriental ‘Mom and Pop’ ran both restaurants at the same time.

In New York City I loved the ‘delis’ where the word sandwich took on a whole new meaning and where ‘cawfee’ actually tasted of something.

Independant motels were nearly always of a high standard, although it was always possible to find yourself in unusual company, like the time in California when I was checking into a motel near Venice Beach, when one of the male guests asked the rather camp receptionist if he could borrow his handcuffs and invited him to join the party when he got off duty. I decided that my family and I would be more comfortable in the Best Western down the road.

I wonder if it would be possible to drive across our small island using only independant outlets along our highways for meals, petrol and lodging ? I bet that it would be harder than you think.

Once there were ‘greasy spoon’ transport cafés scattered along our main roads and plenty of ‘village’ petrol pumps. Motels were almost unheard of, but ‘bed and breakfast’ signs could be seen alongside many roads. I travelled a lot in Britain in those days, and compared to my travels in America, can remember …

… just how bloody awful it all was !