Andy's Glasses

Britain has announced that by 2030 no more petrol or diesel cars will be registered. Only ‘lectric, like the Renault Zoe, pedal, like Fred Flintstone’s car, or… or… other good ways of powering cars. Hydrogen maybe. Or sand. Norway is doing it by 2025 because they’re a small, rich country full of very compliant blond people who already have over 15% of their vehicles electric. France is going for 2040 because they are essentially a stroppy and argumentative nation of people whose favourite word is ‘non!’ America is introducing the Chevy Brontosaurus, a supercharged 12 litre, V-16 monster, burning Super-high-leaded petrol mixed with nitro-methane, does 0-60 in 2 seconds, has no steering wheel because you really wouldn’t want go anywhere but in a straight line, and has a fuel consumption of 1.7 miles per gallon. I have one on order.

And Australia, home of the ‘hole in the ozone layer’, is doing… nothing. “Cars are a problem? Not here, mate.” Australia evolved separately, which is why their mammals have inbuilt handbags, and continues to ‘evolve’ along the human branch of the mammalian genus. Not necessarily in what could in any way be described as ‘advancing’ the human condition, but evolution doesn’t work on ‘advancement’ anyway. Which is probably why the Aussies are so good at it. Because its more about simple reproduction.

And its also ironic that over half the world’s current production of lithium, the stuff what makes the batteries in all electric vehicles, comes from Australia. Yet they still hang on to a kind of muscle car culture, down under. Not in the big cities, they’re as pretentious as city dwellers everywhere, trading their Mercs for Priuses, their big Beamers for I3s, but in the ‘backwoods’, which holds about 90% of the Australian population, the places where restaurants close at 8 and you walk down the Main Street feeling like you’re in a scene from ‘Deliverance’. And they drive Holdens. Australia’s very own cars. Well, it was until 2017 when they closed all domestic manufacturing plants. But Holdens were fab. Based on the American ethos of ‘take a piece of shit and stick the biggest fucking engine you could possibly cram under the bonnet, making sure that you NEVER try to improve brakes or suspension once you’ve done so.’ We rented a few on our great Aussie tour of 2011. Looks like a Vauxhall Dull-as-dishwater, drives like a dragster on steroids. My kind’a car.

But I’m ready to embrace the fossil-free revolution. Hmmm…

Happy Friday

A xxxx

And here is the news:

Covid covid covid, covid covid, covid covid covid covid covid covid covid. Covid covid covid covid, covid covid; covid covid covid, covid covid, Trump, covid covid covid, death, covid covid covid, hospitals, covid covid covid covid covid, election fraud covid covid covid covid covid, Boris covid covid covid covid, Arsenal covid covid covid covid covid, more death, covid covid, Manchester, covid covid covid covid. Covid.

Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, space rocket, vaccine vaccine vaccine. Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, Tottenham vaccine vaccine vaccine Footsie 100 vaccine vaccine vaccine, environment vaccine vaccine vaccine vaccine Biden vaccine vaccine vaccine, vaccine Dominic Cummings vaccine vaccine vaccine vaccine; London vaccine vaccine vaccine vaccine…

We’ve all learned a lot about statistics during this epidemic. We know that number of positive tests are meaningless. We know that ‘deaths’ are not all they’re made out to be. So we’ve moved on to averages rather than actual raw numbers. And rates of change. Comparisons. Rates of rates of rates of change. And the big one, excess deaths. Those over and above what would normally occur at this time of year. And that is really interesting. Because of massive regional variations. In England. I can’t be concerned with other nations at this point, I’d drown in numbers.

The North West has a 30% increase in ‘excess deaths’. Thus presumed to be covid linked. London has 0% increase. That’s quite staggering. I mean, we know that the good people of Manchester and Liverpool aren’t accustomed to washing their hands, nor much else really. But 30%!!!

If we look to football fans, this means that there are now 30% less Liverpool and Everton fans than there were in January. 30% less Manchester City fans. Manchester United fan numbers are unaffected. Arsenal fan numbers relate to covid rates in Iran, Saudi Arabia and the caves of Afghanistan. For Chelsea and West Ham infection rates please refer to Her Majesty’s Corrections department for current information. Spurs fan numbers also remain constant. Until there’s a barmitzvah. Then they spike a bit.

In other news, Jeremy Corbyn yesterday showed that in order to get back into the Labour Party he would make the most spectacular ‘u-turn’ on everything he’s been saying for the last 5 years. “Anti-semitism in the Labour Party has NOT been exaggerated or overstated, even though I did say precisely that last week. I must make this plain and clear… (cut to the ‘opposed to racism’ line)… and not just to wheedle my skulking way back to parliament like a grovelling worm”.

Thank you and good night.

A xxxx

So what do we do about old people? Who seem to be the major losers in the great Covid cull of 2020 (soon to be extended, by popular demand!!) Ok, there are benefits here because old people are, generally, a disproportionate drain on national resources. They need more power to heat up. They take pensions. They don’t pay much tax. They’re a massive drain on the NHS. And they need care. Yup, there’s not really much good to say about the aged. Pretty worthless group of non-contributing parasites.

Other than, we like them. And we love having them around. And they bring the essential balance to the lives of the young, the younger and youngest.

This is my dad. He’s going to be 96 on Tuesday, by the grace of God (not even one day is taken for granted at such a time of life), he should live so long, pth, pth, pth. And so, with ‘visiting’ temporarily banned due to lockdown, we arranged a ‘fly by’ happy birthday. With him inside his care home and us in the car park, shouting the birthday song as loud as our voices might manage to get it through the double doors and somewhere near his hearing aids.

So Rachie and I went, met up with Lila and Joey and their mum and dad, in the rain, to scream at ‘Poppa Moishe’ through the glass. And wave. Because Joey doesn’t know the words to that particular song we let him sit down in a puddle he found instead. (What was he thinking??? Do babies think at all???)

And it was sad that he is locked in, especially as yesterday morning I received an email telling me that one of the carers had just tested positive so all have to isolate in their rooms for 14 days. But they wonderfully made an exception. Because some carers really do actually care.

His face says it all. There may have been some kind of minor risk involved, who knows, but he’d take that any day, and so would I, for the sheer pleasure those 5 minutes gave him.

My dad was on LBC last Sunday morning. Telling them that he’s an old soldier, a WW2 veteran, never committed a crime but is a prisoner of government diktat. And in what is inevitably their last few days/weeks/months/years if they,re very lucky, isn’t protecting the very old from Covid arguably more dangerous to their overall health and wellbeing than letting them have the massive benefit that contact with their families brings?

Difficult decisions. Not sure its been thought out properly, but there again, what has?

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

I’d just like to stay with the televisual theme for a little while, which is appropriate as THERE IS NOTHING ELSE WE’RE ALLOWED TO DO without risking arrest. And its almost a case in point, having referred to the addictive nature of even the most banal, trite, trivial, mindless and almost brain-dead of tv offerings. And nothing exemplifies all those adjectives more than ‘Married at First Sight’. For current purposes (as its the only ones I’ve seen) we’ll deal with the ‘Australia’ sub-group of the species.

The premise or ‘experiment’ as they loftily call such a shag-fest in Australia, is a simple one. Take two people who’ve never met before, tick a few ‘dating app’ type boxes and let them meet ‘under the alter’ for the first time. What could possibly go wrong? Ok, its not a ‘real’, like, ‘legally binding’ wedding, but there’s white dresses and top hats and families and rings and stuff.

Then they spend time working out whether they actually like their new ‘mate’. (In all senses of that word, particularly in Australia). Oh, and rather than get bored watching one couple making tea and arguing about toilet seats for 3 hours, there’s 10 couples. All living through various forms of optimism, delusion, frustration, realisation and disappointment. Loads of disappointment.

The younger daughter is temporarily back with us from her new native Berlin and when not working she can often be found in front of the tv upon which are groups of young people slagging each other off. There are 4,652 programs involving such social studies, all of them totally moronic.

Except Married at First Sight. Which is brilliant. Because these people are Australians. The nation least in touch with its emotional side. Where, if men have empathy for women it manifests itself by the purchase of a bottle of white wine to accompany the 54 crates of beer. The place where, if men ‘get’ women at all, they have to keep quiet about it. They don’t ‘wear their heart on their sleeve’, unless its a tattoo and the heart in question has a dagger through it.

So now we ‘binge’ on this series. Only as a study, NOT because we like it in any way. We watch it, even though its way beneath us, as an intellectual exercise in what rubbish ‘other people’ might watch.

So for God’s sake, DON’T watch MaFS. One minute is too much. 47 hours not enough.

Happy binge-watching

A xxxx

I’m not the world’s biggest tv watcher, (he says with the air of intellectual superiority alway implied in such a claim.) I’m too busy with further education, reading book things, learning encyclopediae and generally being a swotty, geeky, creepy git. I could be a tv watcher of premier league quality, but there’s too much ‘shit’ to do. So I become very selective.

I always watch the news. Have it on series record, in case I miss anything that Sophie Rayworth might need to tell me. Though I must admit that Coronavirus has almost cured me of my obsession. I now fast forward through the Covid reports because they are boring as fuck and we’ve quite literally heard everything they have to say about it before. Several times. Thousands of fucking times.

And my other obsession and my only foray into the world of any kind of ‘reality tv’ is the Bake Off. I don’t do the singing version, the sewing version, art, dancing, talent, pro-celeb mountaineering, Britain does Open Heart Surgery, or sailing. Only baking. Because its food. And I can just about tolerate Paul Hollywood whereas Simon Cowell makes my skin crawl. I try not to cry when someone goes home every week.

But you only need to watch something once. Because then you’re hooked. If tv is not addictive then its not working. So when people do the ‘you must watch…’ thing, it just means that they’ve watched it, and it hooked them. You may get hooked, in which case that’s a ‘brilliant program indeed’ or you hate it, and its shit. The only exception is Darts. Which unquestionably is shit, but watch one little arrow hit the target and you’re obsessed forevermore in a world where treble 19, bullseye, double 17 is only way out. (Not recommended for Diane Abbot).

So other than football, which doesn’t count, and Rockumentaries, which are compulsory, and dramas, which I like, and the news and box sets and everything else I like, I don’t watch much telly.

Happy viewing

A xxxx

Phew, what a relief, the pandemic’s over. Finished. Beaten by medical science. A couple of German Turks, or Turkish Germans (think: Mezut Ozil in a white coat) who run Biontech have, with a little help from Pfizer, made a vaccine which is ‘90%’ effective against Coronavirus. To put that in perspective, Joe Biden is 90% effective against Trump. Ok, poor analogy, we want optimism and hoorah, not boring and JUST FUCK OFF!!!

And this is the game changer. No more shouting at friends because no-one knows what two metres really looks like without floor stickers. No more dinners in the garden in the rain. No more restrictions. I can spit on the roads again. We won’t have to sneak into Lila’s house fearing the Covid Police and nosy fucking neighbours. The word ‘bubble’ can go back to rhyming slang, where it belongs. And you can hug again. In fact hugging will be compulsory. With strangers. With the tube driver. Shop assistants. Policemen and, more importantly, police women. So we can try to regain some of the essential humanity of… humans. NO MORE MASKS!!!! Although ugly people will still be advised to wear them for safety. Of others.

And this vaccine will be available before Christmas. Because it has tested 97% effective in turkeys. And they’ll have 40 million available. But you need 2 each, so that’s 20 million people released from slavery and constraint. Oh. But Britain alone has 60 million people. The world has 7.7 billion people. Maybe give smaller doses, spread it round a bit. Hmmmm. Where’s Diane Abbot when you need her? (Answer: you NEVER need Diane Abbot). But Britain has already ordered… about 5 million. So that’ll take care of the NHS workers, who really need it, and my dad, because he’s 96 this week, and… and… and that’s it really. We’ve run out 6 weeks before its available. Vaccines are like toilet rolls; you have to get in early and panic buy.

The tests have been successful, they just need to perform a few ‘safety checks’. Like, side effects. Issues developing from the guinea pigs. Like newfound linguistic skills. Dark spots on the skin. Light spots on the skin. Extra testicles growing. Any mental activity involving Elvis. And then and only then will it be fit for use.

And there are others just around the corner too.

Coronavirus? Oh yeah, I remember that…

Happy Liberation Day… almost.

A xxxx

The football league table was invented in 1873 by Ronnie League-Table, after whom it was named. And every week Ronnie would sit down, at 5 o’clock on Saturday, when ALL that week’s games were over, with a quill and an abacus, and perform his calculations for the teams’ positions. But now its different. Not only are matches played virtually every day, but they also use the ‘as it stands’ table. Which updates with every goal scored. So even though matches aren’t over and winning teams can still lose or draw, until that happens, they have their precise position, as it stands.

This picture is the one from yesterday, just after Harry Kane scored Spurs goal at West Brom. The photo arrived from Spurs Paul with the message: STOP THE COUNT!!!!

If only. Unfortunately it was merely a snapshot, and 28 minutes later Leicester scored at Wolves and ‘as it stood’ went top of the league. Where they are now.

But football matches are much more important than presidential elections. And no amount of law suits can alter the league table. I’ve tried. On grounds of diminished responsibility. Pleas of mitigation. Based on morality, when Chelsea or Manchester City are involved, obviously. But the courts aren’t interested. Football has its own ‘court system’ anyway and its called VAR. Unfortunately it is total shite and not worth the cost of the tv screen.

Liverpool played after Spurs and could have gone top with a win at Man City. But it wasn’t to be. Even though Etihad Airlines sponsor the video refs. In cash. And City duly won a really dodgy penalty but amazingly the never-failing Kevin De Bruyne actually failed to score it. But the draw was sufficient to keep Liverpool below Spurs. Even though Leicester’s match had by then finished and they were top.

Yet the best was yet to come. I didn’t watch it because I would never spend 15 quid on pay-per-view to watch Arsenal. In case they won. However, they didn’t win. They rather catastrophically, rather beautifully, rather… wonderfully, managed to lose 3-nil to Aston Villa. Who I noted, when I did see hilights later on BBC FOR FREE!!!, were just brilliant. And played… well, played like Arsenal once did, all speed of attack and fabulous, flowing, one-touch wonder. And Ollie Watkins. The ‘kid’ who’d put three past Liverpool, yesterday scored 2 against Arsenal. Bless him. Until he scores against Spurs.

Ahhhh, delightful Monday. Because for those 28 minutes, I was living the dream. Its time to ‘believe’!!!!

A xxxx

If you buy a newspaper purely for the annoyance you know it will give you, then you can’t really be surprised that you end up angry. And if that paper is The Mail, then really, what the fuck do you expect?

On the front page of today’s Mail on Sunday was no mention of the American Election. The one the world has been waiting a week to be resolved and the immense relief arrived yesterday.

Yet the Mail chose to lead with its ‘FREE INSIDE!!!! Lose up to 7lbs in lockdown with Slimming World’. And even pushing its ‘12 page eating plan’. Food is big our lives, I get that. Overeating is even bigger (fat-joke) I get that too. The main headline was how the government are searching Ministers’ phones to try and find who leaked last week’s lockdown news before it was announced. There was also a picture of the Queen in a Royal Mask. Well, a regular black mask but it becomes ‘royal’ as soon as she puts it on, obviously. She went to lay a wreath on the grave of the unknown soldier. For remembrance weekend. Though it appeared she was the only one who remembered as no-one else was there. All normal such activities falling under the rule of 6, or just 1 if its a Queen, or possibly its a Tier 4 thing, or a ‘sporting activities’ ban, golf, tennis, darts and wreath-laying.

You had to go to page 7 for the start of the ‘11 page election special!!!!’ To find out that Biden won. Well, that’s what 359,999,999 Americans believe. The other one thinks differently. The other one is so deluded that he believes he won the election, ‘by a lot’. Wow. That’s amazing Don, ‘a lot’, wow.

But the real reason for the Mail’s stance is that they are massive Trumpites… Trumpishers… Trumpaphiles, whatever. They fucking love him. So the editor (who was probably at one time a fundraiser for the British National Party and now chairs the ‘Blue-rinsed lives Matter!!!’ campaign) chose not to honour Biden (a virtual communist in the eyes of the Mail) and so relegated him to page 7.

Note to self: cancel Mail on Sunday subscription, its not good for you.

Happy Sunday (Spurs could go top with a win this afternoon. At least for a couple of hours, but ITS A START!!)

A xxxx

I’d like to speak on behalf of all American citizens. Even though I’m not one. Never have been. And wouldn’t become one for all the Cadillacs in Detroit. Possibly all the hamburgers in California though, in case you’re thinking about asking me. Because otherwise I think my bodyweight is too low for full citizenship.

And I’d like to offer a massive thank you to President (for the moment) Donald J. Trump. (And I just learned that the ‘J’ does NOT stand for ‘Jerkoff’. How did they miss that?) Because ridiculous presidency aside, what Donald has shown the world is that the Home of the Brave, Land of the Free (other than to vote by post) and richest, loudest, most… everythingest nation in the Universe (the mere ‘world’ is simply not big enough for all that everything), is incapable of running an election worthy of the term.

The Greeks managed it 3000 years ago without computers. The Europeans (including, for one more month or so, Britain) are masters of the vote. Third world nations filled with illiterate people, manage to perform elections easily and, for the most part, correctly. Impoverished African nations do it simply and effortlessly.

Yet America, who can send men to the moon (allegedly) and put on The Super Bowl every year, simply can’t get their shit together at voting time. They’re still counting fucking votes in Pennsylvania. Four days after the event. Same with Arizona. Georgia they managed but… they’re doing it again, just to check. There are a whole bunch of ‘military votes’ (soldiers overseas) which won’t be counted until November 10th. I mean, I mean, I mean… didn’t they know in advance that there was going to be an election? Weren’t they told the date? Was it a surprise? A secret?

If you have an election on Tuesday, you should know the result on Wednesday. That’s it. Anything else you may have to do should be done before. Like postal votes. Like military votes. Like election fraud. Oops. And then the system would be safe from stupid and senseless allegations by cry-baby bad losers intent on litigation.

So, thanks Don,

A xxxx

I’ve said it before, but I’m going to say it again, particularly for the 67 million Americans (and counting) who must have missed it the first time round. Donald Trump is a tosser. But a tosser of such juvenile, verging on infantile, inane, moronic, almost insanely narcissistic, AND narcissistically insane proportions, that he becomes The Tosser. The one against whom all others must be measured. And will come up lacking.

The man has declared himself ‘the winner’ of this election. Even though he’s losing. And he won’t let the mere trivial fact that lots more people voted for his opponent, which is fairly irrelevant, or that said opponent currently has more college votes by some way, (very important) detract from the unarguable ‘fact’ that He Has Won! Yeah, more people may have voted for the other guy but I won! Because… because…

Trump thinks its his right to win. And any possible obstacle to that end point must, ergo, be wrong. Thus ‘democracy’ must be wrong if it failed to send the Orange One back to the White House. And therefore accusations must fly as to why that is so. And legal suits will ensue to ensure that it is rectified back to ‘right and proper’.

This is classic narcissism on an industrial scale. If I didn’t win then the system is broken. So we’ll sue that system until I do win.

By declaring ‘major electoral fraud’ Trump has thrown the entire American voting system under the immense bus of his personal vanity. Even though there is, as yet, not one iota of evidence of fraud. Only that he is not winning. So it must be fraud. Obviously nothing to do with the fact that he’s the most divisive, moronic, toxic dude ever to legitimise racism and misogyny whilst holding high office. But heh, I make no judgments. I don’t even get a vote.

And just as well because what the fuck is going on in Pennsylvania and Georgia that it could take over 3 days to count votes? Should we buy them a calculator? Philadelphia has been on 99% for 48 hours. It’s almost as much an embarrassment as their President. I mean, in China, they have an election in which 1.6 billion vote and the outcome is known immediately. In fact its known beforehand. Chairman Xi won. All the votes. Almost as democratic as the Trump way.

Happy Friday,

A xxxx