Apologies for two weeks free of inanity. If I didn’t keep being given silly things to do, this would be more regular.
Well we’ve had another week of more rain. The cider-makers of Somerset seem to be quite relieved that the bankers (yep, Bankers) of the south east have now had a taste of flooding, so there might be a bit of action with sorting it all out. After all, it’s one thing to be flooded out of your home, it’s quite another to be forced to move into your penthouse suite to escape the water. Poor things.
The whole flood thing has been a bit like a magician’s trick. Pay attention, don’t be distracted, people! Just as you should never take your eyes of the magician’s hands, you should not be distracted by statistics of flooding or heart-string twanging human interest stories. No! It’s all about the blame!
Floods? First of all it started with insurance companies being a bit picky about what they’d cough up for, and reinterpreting policies after the fact. They pinned the blame on the residents with a ‘Who’s silly idea was it to live on a flood plain anyway?’ Obviously that rubbed a few people up the wrong way, and asked ‘Well who built the houses in the first place?’ and then the developers had a bit of a pop at the government, and asked ‘Who gave planning permission and subsidies for development?’ I can’t help but think that one day someone’s going to spoil the whole thing and own up to it.
The other game you can play with bonkers weather is to have a sweepstake on the next time someone peddles global warming/climate change/whatever it is. I remember being at primary school and being told that when I reached my thirties I would be growing grapes and melons in my back garden and have a sandal perma-tan. Obviously that hasn’t played out because a) haven’t got a back garden and b) uh, it’s cold and wet. Global warming’s shaping up differently to what I expected, don’t know about you.
So while all that’s been going on, it’s tempting to think that nothing else has been going on in the world at all. Except for Ukraine. But I’m not going to talk about that, because I really don’t understand it.
Over in Obamaland, it’s all kicking off in the world of spliffery. A short while ago Colorado legalised recreational pot. Naturally it was a move guaranteed to annoy those old buffers with a thing about social cohesion, but as with most policies tainted with the Obama brush of incompetence, the underlying infrastructure wasn’t really considered, so there are all these places where you can spend your hard-earned on pot, but what happens to all that wonga? At the moment nothing because it’s illegal for the banks to accept it. It’s almost like nicking the Mona Lisa. What’s the point if you can’t sell it? So there are all these potshops which have had to employ armed guards because they can’t shift the cash. Ha ha, love that.
I don’t know whether I ought to be surprised or not that there’s an abundance of knitted cannabis-related goods.
Over in Italy this week a cleaner ‘cleaned’ up an exhibition by binning some of the exhibits. Apparently it was an accident, but let’s be honest about some of the stuff referred to as art, the correct response to claims of post-modernist para-existentialism ought to be that of my papa: ‘Is it heck as like’, or when he’s being particularly engaging: ‘How can you not see it’s crap?’
Incidentally I don’t have an opinion on whatever that is above because I have no idea what it is. I’d like to think it’s a gigantic piece of cinder toffee, but I expect I’d be disappointed.
In other news London’s South Bank University has invested £20,000 in building a fake pub to study the effects of alcohol on behaviour. I don’t know about you, but I’m encouraged that taxpayers’ money and research grants are being used for such a noble cause. And at such a reasonable price too. Obviously if there were adequate places throughout the country where people can get inebriated and end the evening either crying outside a club or weeing in a bus shelter, that would be a total waste of money.
Would you look at that, it’s a sneaky drink-related shark feature. I know how you get disappointed when there are no sharks.
I was rather underwhelmed by yesterday’s earthquake in the Bristol Channel. Whereas the quake itself measured 4.1 on the Richter Scale, the hysteria following it maxed out at 6.4. Good old BBC.
And here’s sloth corner:
I tried to stay topical, and find a stoned sloth, but finding one that didn’t look a bit like that was tricky.
Have a good week.