Lucky Di Matteo Parks The Bus

Older readers may recall what the erstwhile Chelsea manager Jose Mourinho said when complaining about Tottenham Hotspur's tactics after they successfully frustrated in a 2004/2005 Premier League match:

"they brought the bus and they left the bus in front of the goal"

Which is basically what Chelsea's approach to both legs of the Champion's League semi-final has been. Seven men in defence, with two midfielders and one striker helping out. Chelsea, however, have had all the luck, which their interim manage Roberto Di Matteo seems to have brought with him. They had three chances on goal over the two matches and scored on each of them whereas Barcelona had innumerable chances and scored only twice. Meanwhile, Barcelona failed to win - Messi tried to place his penalty above the keeper and below the bar and failed when enny fule kno it is easier to score by hitting the ball to the left or the right of the keeper. They persisted in playing delicate intricate football trying to pass the ball into the net, as anticipated by Di Matteo. They should have tried to surprise Chelsea by lobbing the ball over the top, or shooting quickly from distance. I have discussed the matter with Spyro and we are agreed that the Barcelona goal that was ruled offside was not. True football fans will recall Chelsea being awarded a goal against Spurs which did not cross the line, and which John Terry admits was not a goal. Lucky Matteo.

One bright spot to emerge though is that the aforementioned Arch-thug and Cheater General John Terry was caught at last, assaulting Sanchez from behind, and given a straight red card so he will miss the final, along with Meireles, Ramires and Ivanovic, thus making the task a bit easier for either Bayern Munich or Real Madrid.

Counter Terror Expo

"An yll wynde that blowth no man to good, men say." - John Heywood, A dialogue conteinyng the nomber in effect of all the prouerbes in the Englishe tongue, 1546.

He was a lousy speller but Mr Heywood has hit the biscuit with the apostrophe so far as the 'war on terror' is concerned. You still have a couple of days in which to attend the Counter Terror Expo at Olympia, London where you will find all manner of dedicated professionals and businesses eager to sell you armoured vehicles, kevlar vests, CCTV, various weaponry and so forth to assist you in dealing with the terrorist threat:

"Counter Terror Expo features a highly relevant centrepiece conference designed to deliver insight, analysis and perspective to current threats, an extensive and highly specialised programme of workshops developed to offer an in-depth examination of specific issues and provide a focused forum for debate, as well as one of the largest showcase exhibitions of its kind anywhere and which attracts the leading vendors globally."

I must say it was jolly nice of the late Osama Bin Laden to have inspired the development of this particular branch of globalised economic development! No doubt the exhibitors have taken steps to ensure that none of these scheming Al Q'Aeeda chappies attend their workshops icognito in order to check out the counter-measures to their measures so that they can counter the counter-measures. And, of course, it's a complete coincidence that all the equipment and expertise on sale might also be used by an oppressive government to suppress legitimate civil unrest. But I shouldn't be so cynical; no doubt the vendors think carefully about to whom they are selling their products.

Bert Weedon is no more...

In the late Fifties and early Sixties anyone who fancied learning to play the guitar inevitably bought a copy of 'Play in a Day' by Bert Weedon. Not many were really sure who he was but you might have spotted him guesting on some crummy TV programme or heard him, unknowingly, playing as a session man on some record or other, making up for the technicall shortcomings of the average pop star of the time. But his book 'Play in a Day' was pretty much the only teach-yourself guitar tutor book around, so everyone from Eric Clapton to Alf Coggins started off with that. These days, of course, they teach rock n'roll guitar in school and you can get a degree in how to be a pop star. Back then it was just you and your friends and Bert.

Sadly, the inestimable Mr Weedon has passed away aged 91. I guess there will be many guitarists - professional or amateur - who will reflect on the memory of Mr Weedon with affection.

Today

No keeping the Sabbath Day holy for this lot! Eight o'clock this morning and work resumed, smashing walls down and clearing up. By about half three they were all done, and ready for the building phase to begin tomorrow with a delivery of concrete at 7.30 am. Why didn't we know about these fellows when we did the previous project?

Yesterday

Any road up, peeps, the lads got cracking and here's what the place looked like yesterday evening after two days work. Bathroom and toilet cleared, and a start made on the new plumbing and kitchen semi-demolishificated. Dust everywhere!

Tomorrow

Wonders will never cease!

Dodgy plumbing in the old bathroom necessitates renewal of the pipes (as the Bishop said to the Actress) and this has brought forward El Presidente's plans to substantially revise both the bathroom and kitchen. This involves engaging some local artisans of various specialities and expertise and, fortunately, we know a plumber who is the son of El Presidente's mother's erstwhile schoolfriend. El Prez forewarned him of the project prior to our present visit to our colonial estates and so when she contacted him on our arrival he was on the spot, with a builder chum, within hours to firm up the arrangements. "When can you start work" asked El Prez. "Oh, tomorrow" says Mr Plumber. Now then usually when a Cypriot says tomorrow it could mean anything; this week, next week,Monday afternoon, who knows?

But blow me down and call me a national disaster, at 8 am the following morning there they were! And work got underway immediately. My eyebrows leaped several centimetres! Of course, this has meant that El Prez and I too have had to get cracking, ordering supplies, clearing furniture and valuables out of the way and so forth. So yesterday was a long day involving interminable visits to tile shops, bathroom shops and...IKEA. But don't get me started on my views of the IKEA shopping experience...let us enjoy this moment of unaccustomed Cypriot alacrity!

Take A Nap, Sherlock!

This person is in the running for a Well Done, Sherlock! award. Dr Sara Mednick, who has a Phd in Psychology from Harvard and is a researcher and faculty member at the University of California, has figured out that taking a nap in the afternoon can be quite refreshing. She's even written a book about it, available from our tax-dodging friends at Amazon for a mere £8.99.

Her researches have revealed, amongst other things no doubt, that there is an appropriate time during the day, which is related to the time you woke up, to take 'The Ultimate Nap'. This is a perfectly balanced state in which REM and slow-wave sleep are equally proportioned. There's a nifty little Flash animation on her website that you can use to work out when this will be in your particular case. This assumes, of course, that you have had an unbroken night's sleep and Dr Mednick does not explain on her website what to do if this is not the case. Should one take a nap according to the first time you woke up or the latest? Or a nap for each waking up? I guess we'll have to buy the book to find out.

Last Words on The Titanic

Ho Hum

(from this isn't happiness)

River Cafe

El Presidente and myself were treated to lunch a few days ago at The River Cafe. So called, presumably, because it is on the banks of the River Thames just downriver from Hammersmith Bridge.

It's a bit posh, although not pretentious, and specialises in Italian food. HIghly recommended.  It's not cheap but the food is of excellent quality. Set menu of four courses was £39 and the aperitif of the day was £9, which is more than I would usually spend on an entire bottle of wine...

We did take some photos of the grub, but El Presidente's phone camera has gone on the blink and lost them so you'll just have to use your imagination. Tre Crostini di Tuscano, Tortellini di Ricotta e Pinoli, Mozarella di Buffali, Risotto, Branzin ai ferro, Maiali al Latte, Panacotta with grappa and raspberries, and Affogato, amongst other things, were consumed. Spiffing!

Tower of Power

Another works outing t'other day to KoKo in Camden Town for the last concert of their European Tour by Tower of Power, the world's hippest, funkiest, most groovymost soul band in existence. These chaps have been around for ages and are getting older and fatter as time goes by but they sho' kin kimbo nonetheless. Zillions of funkateers have passed through the ranks of the band which is centred on Emilio Castillio (tenor sax) and Steve Kupka a.k.a. The Funky Doctor (baritone sax). Here's a video of the current lineup, playing recently at the North Sea Jazz Festival. This song 'What Is Hip' is pretty much their signature tune and facilitates the part of the show where the dudes get the audience to join in. There are other key points - search YouTube for 'Diggin on James Brown', for example. Any road up, a jolly spiffing evening at a classy venue. Support was by a band called The PB Underground who were reasonably funky too, but just a tad too busy and loud.

Tory Half-Wits (cont'd.)

Sorry guys, but three half-wits don't make a whole one either.

Francis Maude, believe it or not, is a qualified lawyer and QC! Cripes, they let anyone in these days! Mind you he only spent six years practising as a lawyer before going into politics full-time, following in his Dad's footsteps, so perhaps we're twigging something there. Either he wasn't much good as a lawyer or he was only doing it to acquire some independent credibility as a prospective Tory candidate.

Any road up, in an effort to divert attention from the stink created by Mr Cruddas, Cameron (or one of his teen-aged advisers) thought he would dive in and stir up some trouble around the current dispute between the tanker drivers and their various employers about minimum pay and conditions. He figured that as it is the Unite trade union that is involved and they support the Labour Party, he was on to a winner and could cause massive embarrassment to Ed Milliband. But in his typically half-baked way he failed to figure out that Unite was nowhere near calling a strike - they had merely balloted their members on whether or not to take industrial action, as required by law. And even if a strike were to be called there has to be seven days notice. Talks got going today through ACAS.

For one reason or another, Francis Maude was nominated as the chump to take forward the plan for alarm and despondency. Not the Secretary of State for Energy, or the Secretary of State for Transport. Not even the Business Secretary. But Maude, the Cabinet Secretary. Funny that.

Well, as we've seen the whole thing was entirely bogus - there has been no strike but nonetheless thousands of dimwits have been panicked into queueing up for petrol and to keep their tanks topped up, thereby causing the fuel shortage they were all afraid of. Maude took it the extra mile with his stupid advice about keeping a jerry can in the garage. Duh! Even the Tory-friendly media have figured it out and suggested that the whole episode was manufactured as a distraction.

What's really depressing about it is that so many people allowed themselves to be conned into panic buying fuel. Perhaps this explains how it is that half-wits like Maude and Cameron mange to get elected to office in the first place.

Tory Half-Wits

Unfortunately for David Cameron and the Conservative Party, two half-wits don't make a whole one.

These two self-important dunderheads, Sarah Southern and Peter Cruddas, are the twonks who have landed Lord Snooty and his pals in the soup. And the fish course, entree, dessert and cheese board.

Sarah Southern is a jumped-up wannabe who, she claims, somehow or other persuaded Cameron to take her on as an 'adviser' or 'aide'. Actually, she's just done several odd jobs around Conservative Central Office such as 'event manager', and as 'operations manager' for the No to Av campaign. She has also done time as the national organiser for the Young Conservatives. She set herself up as a lobby consultant last June and boasting of her links to Cameron, introduced the Sunday Times journalists to another of Lord Snooty's pals, Peter Cruddas.

Cruddas is the twerp who offered to get the journalists invited to dinner at No 10 in return for a 'donation' of £250,000, and hence (allegedly) provide some bottom-up input into government policy. Cruddas is a different kind of jumped-up wannabe;  he has actually got loadsamoney that he made himself, despite his humble origins in a Hackney council estate. So he deserves some credit for dragging himself up materially at least, notwithstanding that he made his money through financial transactions in the foreign exchange money markets (he makes gambles on the ups and downs of the currency markets). And fair dos, he is quite a philanthropist, having given away millions to charities to help disadvantaged youths like what he was.

It is no surprise therefore to find that he is close to David Cameron who has been staunch in protecting the interests of the financial sector, in particular by refusing to even contemplate a 'Robin Hood Tax' which would cost the likes of Cruddas a fair whack of moolah. Nor is it much of a surprise to learn that Cruddas was 'non-dom' for tax purposes prior to making massive donations to the Conservative Party in the run up to the 2010 General Election. However, even if he is now liable to pay UK taxes, he can now look forward to paying 5% less, thanks to the recent budget changes. So he knows a thing or two about influencing Conservative Party policy.

Postcard from Todd

A further little reminder that he exists:

‘Radicalised agnostics’ threatening to derail Middle East war process

"But yet I pray thee be not wroth for game; 

A man may say full sooth in game and play."

- Geoffrey Chaucer, The Cook's Tale, 1390:

From Newsbiscuit

The irresponsible actions of a group of radical agnostics are threatening to jeopardise the glorious battle that awaits the holy lands, warned Israel and Iran today.

‘These people are dangerously sensible and naively human in their outlook,’ said Benjamin Netanyahu and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad in a joint statement. ‘We have a clear roadmap for war in the region, but the soft-line approach to international politics of these fundamentalist equivocators could prevent millions of martyrs from fulfilling their destiny. The Middle East is like a powder keg that could explode any minute – the last thing we need is some crazed pacifists standing around with fire extinguishers.’

Radical agnostics have hit back at the attack, but insist they don’t want to offend anyone. ‘We’d just prefer it if religious leaders didn’t blow the world to oblivion,’ stated Daniel Olszewski, a spokesman for the group known as The Silent Unsure. ‘We may be in the minority, but we just think that mass human extinction through warfare should be avoided. Agnostics get a lot of stick from both believers and atheists for sitting on the fence, but the one thing we’re sure about is that we’re not quite ready yet to find out if there is an afterlife.’

B L and extra T

Records Have Sleeves For A Reason

Steve! I've told you before! Put the records back in their sleeves! Look! See! You're standing on one now! Flippin' 'eck! How many times? Just think of the dust from the carpet. Pick 'em up!

Who's That Bloke Up There With Jeff?

For one reason or another the American Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) puts concerts on at The White House. The other day they did one which focused on The Blues and featured B B King, Derek Trucks, Jeff Beck and many more. Jeff very kindly played some guitar for some old fart who was trying his best to emulate Howlin' Wolf, after t'ole fart had approximated a cover of 'I Can't Turn You Loose'.

(Whizz forward to 4 minutes to get to Jeff Beck.)

During the subsequent finale when all the blues chappies were jammin' their way out, President Obama was persuaded to sing a verse of 'Sweet Home Chicago'; not bad, considering.

The Bath Sausage Shop

Director of Sunshine and Social Secretary, FabMary, has recently returned from a fact-finding tour of the Bath Sausage Shop. We see here a picture of the proprietor, a Mr Joe Cole, displaying some of his products. (As far as we know, Mr Cole is not related to the erstwhile England winger of the same name). FabMary brought us two samples of sausages to try: the 'Bath Sausage' and the 'Mongolian Fire-Pot'.

The 'Bath Sausage' is quite pleasant and although its green tinge might at first appear suspicious this is in fact due to spinach being one of the ingredients along with mustard and smoked ham. Probably a sausage for consumption with the now somewhat outmoded meal formerly known as 'high tea', although it is versatile enough to serve at breakfast.

The 'Mongolian Fire-Pot' is however a different kettle of fish and should be approached with caution. It would be too powerful for breakfast, and might not work that well with mashed potato unless one were to devise a suitable gravy as a medium. Perhaps best served as part of a casserole, or with cous-cous and yogurt, this sausage will leave your lips a-tingling.

Whilst in the borough of Bath, FabMary took the opportunity to visit some places of interest such as the Roman Baths and various Jane Austen related locales. She reports imbibing a fabulous afternoon tea of sandwiches and cake, and bathing outdoors in some sulphurous waters on a rooftop. See some pictures over here.

Harry Redknapp

Harry Redknapp's job application. 

(Thanks to obeeone)

Lavenham

The Senior Management Team (SMT) of Xorg Inter-Galactic recently enjoyed a brief sojourn in the ancient Suffolk town of Lavenham. We stayed at the splendid Swan hotel, making use of a discount voucher via Travelzoo which meant we got two nights for the price of one. The deal included a bottle of champagne each evening but, whilst this was enjoyable, it did tend to make us a tad bloated prior to dinner -  with the result that we were more than a tad bloated after dinner.

The Swan dates from 1425 and comprises three buildings, joined up over the centuries. As a result it is all exposed timber beams, uneven squeaky floors, low doorways and ancient brickwork. Not a straight line either vertical or horizontal in sight. Open log fires in the public areas so the gentle smell of woodsmoke lingers. The restaurant area is quite marvellous as it is formed from a former wool-trading hall, complete with minstrel's gallery. Best of all, it is carpeted, there is no piped muzak, and the kitchen is separate - so it is quiet. The service was excellent; the staff were a mixture of locals and eastern Europeans and were very keen.

The food was spiffing. Fresh grilled sardines on toast; belly pork with crackling and dauphinoise spuds; duck leg; liver and bacon with horseradish mash; and many more. The breakfast was served to you freshly cooked rather than from a buffet, monitored by a very competent lady maitre d' from Ipswich.

Only one minor quibble; the housekeeper forgot to replenish the bathroom requisites (shampoo etc) but otherwise five stars and recommended - although I would flinch at paying the full price which is clearly aimed at American tourists and a better class of person.

...aaagh.

When I said don't touch the record's surface with your fingers, that's not what I meant!

George's Hidden Solo

Dhani Harrison, George Martin, and Giles Martin fiddling about with the master tapes for 'Here Comes the Sun' and discovering, lost in the mix, a bit of a solo by Mr Harrison Snr.

Internet Security

We know that President Assad of Syria is a corrupt self-deluding puppet of the military but it has now become apparent that he is also a bit stupid. As reported by the Israeli organ Haaretz, those splendid chaps at Anonymous hacked in to the server used by Assad and Company and were able to get into 78 e-mail inboxes including that of Mr President himself. That's embarrassing enough in itself but it turns out that Assad uses the password '12345'. Wha? That's almost as dumb as using 'password' as your password!

The e-mails leaked so far reveal how Assad prepared for his TV interview with Barbara Walters, and nothing sensitive. I assume the evil bastards who actually run things in Syria have a better grasp of security or use a separate, discrete system - or maybe they don't care?

Birley Shassey: Mistah Gole Fingahhhr

It doesn't get any bettahhhr than this.

The Fez

[via thisisnthappiness]

Goodwin's Knighthood

In an attempt to appease us plebs with a scapegoat whilst not actually doing anything about the systemic problems in the financial sector, David Cameron has engineered the removal of Fred Goodwin's knighthood. As pious chancellor George Osborne explained, Goodwin "came to symbolise everything that went wrong in the British economy over the last decade".
Well, duh! That is just about as irrelevant as giving it to him in the first place! Goodwin still keeps his £342.5K per year pension plus all the ill-gotten loot he acquired whilst employed at the Royal Bank of Scotland. And in any case, so what? Goodwin's reputation could hardly sink any lower, so losing his Knighthood is not much of a penalty for costing the UK £45 billion in bailing out RBS. And meanwhile, other miscreants, such as MPs who fiddled their expenses*, keep their 'honours' and the financial sector is free to go on with its credit default swaps, short-selling, collateralised debt obligations, and many more.

It just goes to show how discredited the financial sector, politicians and the honours system are.

* For example:

Sir Stuart Bell claimed £750 a month for food and designated his second home as a flat in London and claimed £1,400 a month rent.
Sir Paul Beresford who, as well as being an MP, worked up to three days a week as a dentist and designated his west London property, which included his surgery, as his second home on his parliamentary expenses.
Sir Michael Lord claimed more than £8000 over five years for his garden.
Sir Peter Tapsell claimed rent for second home in London, which rose from £4,821 a quarter in 2006 to £5,417 a quarter in 2008. Total claims over four years of £87,729.
Sir Peter Viggers included with his expense claims the £1,645 cost of a floating duck house in the garden pond at his Hampshire home.
Sir Nicholas Winterton who, with his wife Ann, claimed more than £80,000 for a London flat owned by a trust controlled by their children.

Not to mention Conrad Black, Jeffrey Archer, Sir Mark Thatcher and his mum the Barmy Baronness! I put it to you M'Lud that these people "have come to symbolise everything that went wrong with" most things in public life.

[above details via The Guardian]

The Artist

An evening outing a couple of days ago for members of the Xorg collective, to the cinema to see 'The Artist', the much-vaunted silent movie (in black and white) that threatens to scoop all the Oscars this year.

I don't know whether or not The Artist is better than all the other nominees in all respects, but it should definitely win an award or two and it is most definitely worth paying money to see.

The story line is simple and straightforward, concerning a silent movie actor's struggle to adapt to the advent of talking pictures combined with the basic plot of 'A Star is Born', where an established star is outshone by his protege. It is a silent movie in that there is no spoken dialogue, but there is a well written musical score and some other sounds. Don't worry about not being able to follow what's going on though as there are occasional screens of dialogue at key points and often you can lip read what's being said.

The strength of the movie lies in how well it is made and the performances of the two leads. And a dog that does tricks. (Maybe they'll invent a special Oscar for the dog.) The point being that they act in the film as silent movie actors used to do, with exaggerated gestures and expressions thus giving a very authentic feel to the movie. But there is also wit and gentle parody of the genre, not least in the leading male character's matinee idol looks and grooming, and his broad Gene Kelly smile. Any road up, five stars!

Note: Minus five stars for Cineworld, however. Prior to the movie, we were bombarded with half an hour of advertisements and trailers at deafening volume, edited together by someone with the attention span of a teenage gnat. Moreover, we could hear the bangs and crashes from the screen next door where they were presumably watching a film about speeding 42-ton trucks being blown up by 15 megaton bombs interspersed with random machine gun fire.

RBS: Hester's Bonus

Any road up so though but. This bloke Stephen Hester has been awarded a bonus of £963K of shares in the Royal Bank of Scotland (RBS) on top of his £1.2 million salary.  So this bonus is only worth something to him if and when he sells the shares. Should he ever claim welfare benefits, they will be counted as an asset nonetheless so his claim would not succeed, £16,000 being the upper limit for means-tested benefits (there's a sliding scale of deductions for savings between £6,000 and £16,000). 

What is not clear, however, is what Hester has done to earn a bonus whether in cash or shares. He's closed some branches; he's selling some to Santander; he's cut staff numbers and reorganised things here and there. But that's just part of his normal everyday job anyway. Surely a bonus should be related to having done something extra, above and beyond what you're being paid £1.2 million in salary to do in any case? *

I suppose now that he has the shares he has an incentive to increase their value or at least maintain it rather than allow the price to fall. So, in a sense, he has an incentive not to screw up - but he till gets his £1.2 million and he never had the £963K in cash anyway so it wouldn't be much of a loss when all's said and done. Hester still has his house in Holland Park, London; his 350 acre estate in Oxfordshire; and a chalet in Verbier, Switzerland so what's £963K?
Meanwhile, of course, we are told that if bankers don't get a bonus they will go elsewhere and deploy their inestimable talents to someone else's benefit. Fair enough, goodbye and good luck! There are 2.8 million unemployed in the UK - I wouldn't mind betting that at least one of them will have some idea how to close branches, reduce staff numbers and sell off assets and who will do the job for half what Heston is getting.

* Since Hester has been in charge, RBS has lost £3.6 billion in 2009 and £1.13 billion in 2010. Meanwhile his total 'remuneration package' has been £35.54m since joining the bank in 2008. That year, when the then Labour government bailed out RBS, Mr Hester was awarded £4.99m in restricted shares, forgoing pay and bonuses. In 2009, his package was worth £6.9m. In 2010, his total package rose to £8.16m. Last year, the total was £8.08m, including a long-term incentive plan (LTIP) worth £4.8m, bonus £1.66m and salary and pension contributions. For 2012, the total figure is £7.38m – including LTIP worth £4.8m, his bonus of £963,000 and £420,000 pension contributions and £1.2m salary. No doubt he'll get a Knighthood as well at some point.
Addendum: Hester has been persuaded by the malodour surrounding this episode to waive his £963K shares bonus. It seems this is more to do with the distraction it is causing for him and his pals than to an acceptance that he hasn't actually done anything very much to deserve the bonus. He will still receive the rest of his 'remuneration package' for the year, £6.42 million.

Margaret Thatcher

I Saw The Light

Another reminder of the existence of Todd Rundgren, here performing with his pal Daryl Hall. Looks like they might be in Hawaii...

Mick Jagger Walks Out

The NME reports that Mick Jagger has withdrawn from a tea party to which he was invited by David Cameron in Davos, Switzerland. Sir Jagger has belatedly realised that Cameron was using him to give himself some 'hip' credibility on the pretext that Jagger would be helping to promote Great Britain. Ole Jumpin' Jack Flash says he has always maintained an apolitical stance publicly and steered well clear of party politics which is true enough but you'd have thought he would have smelled a rat beforehand on receiving an invitation to a tea party from the likes of Cameron. I can't imagine anyone in their right mind wanting to be tainted by such association. But Sir Flash has always been a great one for mixing with those in high places and no doubt his ego felt good to be asked to be part of the gathering of the overblown plutocrats and self-appointed global business elite at the World Economic Forum where this shindig is taking place. Coincidentally, The Stones will be celbrating their 50th Anniversary this year.

Our picture shows Keith Richards' reaction to the news.

The Banker, the Daily Mail reader, and the Benefit Recipient

A correspondent in the Letters Page of today's Independent quotes the following joke to sum up current Government policy:

An investment banker, a Daily Mail reader and a benefit recipient are sitting round a plate with 12 biscuits on it. The banker takes 11 biscuits, then turns to the Daily Mail reader and says: “Watch out – that scrounger is after your biscuit.”

You could replace the words 'Daily Mail reader' with the name David Cameron or any of his jumped-up Tory half-wit colleagues, all of whom seem to be similarly deliberately ignorant and unable or unwilling to see where the problem actually lies. As the letter writer points out, they should be asking where the eleven biscuits went.

The Beach Boys Soulful Old Man Sunshine

I discovered this rare Beach Boys song via The Guardian's blog about 'old music'. It was recorded in 1969 but didn't surface until 1998 as an album track on the soundtrack for the 'Endless Harmony' documentary. You can tell why it wasn't released at the time as it shows all the signs of the backing track having been recorded by session musicians in a different place and different time from when the vocals were recorded. Plus there are a couple of fluffs, and the mix ain't right. If only they'd gone back to it and recorded a polished up version! Lead vocals are by Carl Wilson and show why it might be better for the remaining Beach Boys not to be planning a 50th Anniversary album and tour. It won't sound anywhere near as good or vibrant.

Return of the Son of Entanglification Runs Amok

Maxwell's Demons have been up to their old tricks again. I'm sure there were only two things plugged in last night.

Grimshaw v. Earth

Yer man Atkinson Grimshaw is good but sometimes the Earth does its thing and some lucky chap with a camera is there to record it. Picture taken in Yosemite in the Autumn via the Los Angeles Times, where there's zillions more snaps of nature's wondrousness. If it weren't for all those flipping Americans it would be perfect.

Let's hope they don't discover oil.

Tom Braggins Band: Live at the Spice of Life

Last Saturday evening saw The Tom Braggins Band topping the bill at The Spice of Life pub/music venue in Soho, featuring our Phil on the drums and making it sound right. Mr Braggins on guitar and vocal and the inestimable Chris Eldred on keyboards.  Here's a picture of them setting up (taken by Phil hence he's not in the photo). A full house and they went down a storm!

The album Simple Things (produced, engineered and made possible by Phil) is available at iTunes for  £6.99. A solo acoustic album by Mr Braggins is in the pipeline. Also on Spotify, Facebook, MySpace, and so forth.

Mr Eldred is also a member of The National Youth Jazz Orchestra and is available for weddings, bar mitzvahs etc. He too can be found on MySpace.

Politics: New Words

The Coalition Government has been 'in power' for 21 months now and in that time we have learned some new words to describe what they are up to. Here's half a dozen:

• Mispledge - Anything Nick Clegg, Deputy Prime Minister, might have said prior to a minute ago.
• Undeforestationageness - The somewhat embarrassing state in which Caroline Spelman, Secretary of State for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, found herself having belatedly realised what a chump she was to propose selling off publicly owned forests and woodlands without first checking whether anyone else thought it was a good idea.
• Futtock - The shape of the imprint left in the sofa after Eric Pickles, Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government, has been sitting on it.
• Gove - A 'Big Idea' that some pranny or other (usually Michael Gove), mysteriously elevated beyond his level of competence, comes up with and to which everyone responds with disbelief, speechlessness and a frown before then setting out in some detail why it is a load of old cobblers and inviting the proposer to 'Shut up you twit'.
• Vacuosity - A statement of policy, spouted forth from David Cameron, in which he says that something or other is a problem and he is going to do something about it but he doesn't say what exactly that might be, nor does anything subsequently materialise.
• Dysastatistificated - The misleading use and manipulation of statistics in order to substantiate a prejudged position. Particularly popular with immigration Ministers, employment Ministers and other bigots.

Further contributions welcome.

Credit Default Swaps

The Greek 'Government' is currently negotiating with its creditors in the financial sector for a writ-off of part of its debts. The Eurozone (i.e. Germany and France) suggested this should be 50% but the creditors are trying to reduce this and the Greeks are trying to increase it, hence the delay. But agreement has to be reached before the cash bailout from the Eurozone can be released. So there's a bit of brinkmanship going on. If Greece doesn't get the cash bailout, then Greece will default on its loans and the creditors lose, but the creditors don't want to give up more than they have to. The deadline is the end of next week sometime. The idea is that Greece gives its creditors new bonds which are worth less than the existing ones, and the bailout money buys them back.

But an ironic twist in this little fandango is that much of the Greek debt has been bought up by so-called hedge funds at a discount and the hedge funds have taken out Credit Default Swaps (CDS) to cover themselves in case Greece does default. What the hedge funds are doing is insuring themselves against a loss, although a CDS isn't exactly insurance. The buyer has to pay for them (single premium or a series of payments) but the seller carries out no actuarial risk calculation and the payout is not related to actual losses but is for the amount initially negotiated. So if you are a hedge fund with a CDS against a debt owed by Greece you get your money back - and perhaps more - whatever happens. So they are negotiating to see how much more than the original debt they can screw out of the situation. 

Now comes the weird bit. What the seller of a CDS does is hedge his bets by buying a CDS (or several) against his prospective loss, from someone else. And that person does likewise so that we end up with a chain of CDS arrangements that payout if Greece defaults or pays back less than it owes. Moreover, anyone else can buy a CDS against the Greece debt even if they are not a creditor (i.e. they don't actually own the debt). I fail to see how this can be a good thing. Everybody is betting against themselves and each other until eventually one financial institution or another gets lumbered with the bill - and I wouldn't mind betting that it will be the European Central Bank or IMF which are ultimately funded by.... you and me. And that's (amongst other things) how the credit crunch happened. And Greece gets off scot free.

It's all a bit like something from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. As the Duchess said to Alice:

“... never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise." The financial sector is indeed 'being what it seems'.

But never mind. David Cameron assures us that he and his chums in the Conservative Party understand all this and so he's best placed to fix it.

Army Surplus

The public expenditure cuts mean that the armed forces are having to take their share of redundancies, and make the money stretch further. One result of this is that the Ministry of Defence has a lot of surplus kit - boots, trousers, tunics, belts and even a Lightning jet (although without its engines).

You can see what's on offer at the Disposal Services Authority website and there's a link to their main contractor The-Outdoor.

A fold-away shovel for £15; a desert ops waistcoat with zillions of pouches for grenades, pistols etc for £45 (pictured); and a rigid raiding craft (a boat) for £3,240; and many more.

Sadly for the would-be revolutionary, nut job or terrorist, no guns and ammo or weapons of mass destruction are included.

SOPA & PIPA

Phew. Students, political researchers and journalists in the UK and USA can breathe a sigh of relief today as their central resource Wikipedia comes back on line after a 24-hour shut down in protest at the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and Protect IP Act (PIPA) currently being considered by the USA legislature. No doubt there were a number of crises in schools and colleges throughout the land as students found they couldn't do their homework. Let's hope teachers and tutors were understanding.

Now that Wikipedia is back you can find out what SOPA is all about and why Wikipedia, Google, Reddit, Twitter, StumbleUpon, Facebook and many more are against it. See also The Guardian for a two-minute explanatory video. But the fact that Rupert Murdoch got excited about it tells you all you need to know - he and his ilk want to control the internet and make loadsamoney from it - see a report at Forbes.

So any road up though but, this legislation seeks to stop so-called 'internet piracy' but the problem with it is that it is a tad draconian in its reach and in terms of penalties. Most importantly for a democracy, it goes against the concept of what Americans call 'due process' i.e. innocent until proved guilty etc. The legislation would allow a copyright holder to make an allegation and would require the internet provider to shut your website down without giving you a chance either to remove the content or to challenge the allegation. And offenders could get sent to prison for five years, which seems a bit harsh. Domain names would be erased, and innovation would be stifled. It's a badly written bit of legislation which won't in any case stop the determined pirates and the Senators and Congressmen need to think again and draft something a bit more sensible. There's worse crimes, and bigger problems, than breach of copyright that Government should be sorting out and it's not as if copyright holders don't already have legal remedies available to them.

Meanwhile, it's interesting how Murdoch and his ilk are all in favour of free markets until it means they might be losing out as a result. And as for the record companies and film corporations, you wouldn't meet a bigger bunch of shysters, thieves and double-crossers outside the banking industry.

Ahoy There!

When I heard that The World's Greatest Twit, Michael Gove, had proposed that the nation should give HM Queen a new royal yacht as a present for her golden jubilee, I thought at first that Gove had finally lost his marbles completely and would shortly be keel-hauled. But as the story has unfolded, we discover that it's not just Gove; there has been a lobbying campaign going on for several months. And now even David Cameron has come on board. Although Downing St has refuted any suggestions that it should be funded by the taxpayer there remains the notion floating around that it might be paid for by 'public subscription' or donations. (They probably mean the National Lottery Heritage Fund.)

You have to wonder what planet these people think they are on.

It is reported that Prince Charles and Princess Anne think it's a good idea. Well of course they do - free cruises for them and their families. But does El Queenie want a yacht for herself? She's 86, her old man is threatening to pop his clogs any moment and by the time the thing is built and operational both of them are likely to be totally decrepit if not feeding the fish in Davy Jones' Locker. But I suspect the idea is not to provide a like-for-like replacement for HM's old Royal Britannia, but merely to hijack the buzz around HM's Jubilee and apply it to an already existing project, and thus to raise funds - from wherever.

The scurvy knave behind the dastardly plan is Rear Admiral David Bawtree, the central figure promoting something called The University of the Oceans. The Big Idea dates back almost twenty years. Essentially, it is to build a sail training ship crewed variously by "about 2,000 (fee-paying) young people each year, from all walks of life, to enjoy the benefits of adventure training under sail whilst at the same time assisting with national and international events." The ship might also be used for research, and Admiral Bawtree figured ahaarr, why don't we bung in a couple of VIP suites and it can be a Royal Yacht as well! So the crafty devil enlisted the help of his local MP David Willetts who put the idea to the Cabinet, and Midshipman Gove has subsequently endorsed it. Whether or not Prince Charles, Princess Anne or HM Queenie quite realise they would be sloshing about in the aft quarters of a sailing ship crewed by apprentices, rather than relaxing in the luxury of a mini-ocean liner, is not clear.

Mysteriously Funny Gorilla

Here's a joke that made me laugh:

This guy takes a gorilla out golfing. At the first tee the gorilla says, “So what am I supposed to do?” The guy says, “You see that green area about 400 yards from here? You’re supposed to hit the ball onto that.” So the gorilla takes a club and whacks the ball and it soars up into the sky and drops down neatly on the green. The guy tees off and makes about 150 yards, so he hits an iron shot and then another iron shot and finally they arrive at the green. The gorilla says, “What do I do now?” The guy says, “Now you hit it into that cup.” The gorilla says, “Why didn’t you tell me that back there?”

This wouldn't be particularly funny if instead of a gorilla it had been another person, or even the Archbishop of Canterbury. It's funny because it's a gorilla. But why is it funny because it's a gorilla?

Eric Clapton: Those Rich and Famous Blues Again

One's mental image of a tax dodger is generally that of some fat cat banker, executive, oligarch or exploiter of child labour. But, of course, they are not the only ones at it. Not surprisingly, anyone with  loadsamoney is up to these kind of tricks, not least guitar whizz Eric 'Slowhand' Clapton. He channels his loot through a company called Marshbrook, from which he pays himself a salary and, occasionally, a dividend. Marshbrook's revenue last year was £12 million but the company made an overall loss of £924,225 so I guess there'll be no UK Corporation Tax to pay. How did Marshbrook lose money? Well, through Marshbrook Eric owns a yacht which can be rented for £179,000 per week (it's quite flashy, with a crew of 13). But the yacht renting business hasn't been good recently so the yacht has been losing Eric's company a fair whack, and Marshbrook has had to pay taxes overseas of £482,000. Meanwhile, Marshbrook paid Eric a salary of £3.98 million so he's not about to start pawning his guitars yet; and he presumably has to pay UK income tax on that unless he's somehow got himself classified as not resident in the UK. Maybe he lives on the yacht while it's not being rented. No wonder concert ticket prices are so high these days.

Eric is not a complete crook, however. He did pay £10 million in tax arrears in 2004 - whilst paying himself £11 million salary. See This Is Money.

Ludwig van Saxhoven

And many more at Worth 1000

Spike Jones for President

There a few better ways to spend a morning when you've got a million things to do, you're miles behind on everything and you don't know where to start, than to watch videos of Spike Jones and His City Slickers.

If only he were alive today. I'd vote for him to be the next President in a flash - he could spot talent, organise, arrange, have original ideas and adapt to changing circumstances. And have a laugh. A funny guy rather than the current crop of nut jobs seeking the nomination!

Here's one to get you started:

David Bowie: Nobody's Perfect

The Thin White Twit in a Hat and Baggy Trousers.

A creative and original talent and a particular genius for re-inventing himself and rediscovering his muse. But occasionally he gets it wrong and he ends up looking completely silly.

Atkinson Grimshaw

You've probably never heard of Atkinson Grimshaw, the Victorian painter. Me neither until a couple of weeks ago when by chance I came upon a review of an exhibition of his work at the Guildhall Gallery in the City of London. He was a self-taught artist who specialised in paintings, mostly of landscapes, which feature sky and, in particular, moonlit sky. He had a very fine knack of capturing luminescence and reflections of light, and of detailed perspective. At the time he was working (1860 to 1893) he was not considered by the cognoscenti to be quite pukkah because he worked from photographs and, occasionally, painted on photographs. But he developed his own techniques and methods of working and he was prolific - at his peak he was producing an average of one painting per week. How he managed to do this and maintain quality is a mystery as he kept no journals or detailed records. Grimshaw did attempt portraits and so forth and although these were adequate, they are nowhere near as good as his moonlit skies or yellow dusks.

The exhibition was very well done, with over sixty paintings from various collections and they even provided a free guided tour. The Guildhall being part of the City of London Corporation reeks of money, and it contains a nice surprise; in the basement of the building are the remains of a Roman amphitheatre found when building commenced in 1988. So its full marks to the Guildhall. Sorry, but the exhibition closed today. Perhaps it will move elsewhere. Meanwhile here's one of Mr Grimshaw's finest.

Unlucky for some!

Working lunch for employees of Xorg Intergalactic today at the calorie-tastic Ed's Diner.

Fabmary indulging in a chilli cheese burger and our CEO devouring a Blues Burger, a huge burger with a huge slab of blue cheese in the middle.

A spiffing selection of revived 45s on the juke box. And our esteemed CEO is just finishing his third mug of coffee...

Now moving on to an exhibition to examine the merits of otherwise of world famous Victorian artisan Atkinson Grimshaw.
Dark rum and chocolate milkshake. Yumsville.

Och Aye The Noo or Not

It's not often that I agree with David Cameron but I think he has a point lurking within all his bluster about holding a referendum on Scottish independence. The Scottish National Party should, sooner rather than later, get round to telling us what they mean by independence and then have a vote on it. Do they mean to re-establish Scotland as a completely separate state? This would be a long and complicated process requiring redistribution of resources and debts from the UK, application by Scotland to join the UN, the EU, NATO, the European Court on Human Rights, the International Labour Organisation, and many more. There are probably zillions of treaties and so forth they'd have to renegotiate. The paperwork would be immense and require the employment of squadrons of Scottish civil servants and lawyers for years. And for what? To be free of the English yoke. A bit of an outmoded concept these days, given that we are all equally oppressed by the laughing jackals of the globalised neo-liberal capitalist financial system.

Of course, the SNP philosophy presumes that the English want to keep Scotland yoked to the UK. But I doubt whether most English people are bothered one way or the other. What they do know is that there are a lot of Scotsmen in England, none of whom are required to have passports, visas or work permits, and some of whom are more welcome than others. Most people like Kenny Dalgleish but most have mixed feelings about Alex Ferguson, for example. One is a 'canny Scot' and the other's a semi-literate gum-chewing big head from Scotland.

Any road up, no doubt Cameron and Salmond will keep up their blathering for months with bluff and counter-bluff. It's quite an effective distraction from actually getting on with running the country.

Last Words...

The Other President

It can't have escaped your notice that the Americans are due to have a Presidential election this November. Assuming no major misfortunes, assassinations or disasters Barack Obama will be the candidate for the Democrats and meanwhile various nut jobs are fighting it out for the nomination to be the Republican Party candidate. They all seem to be somewhat deficient for the role of Commander-in-Chief of the most powerful military force on Earth, and a tad clueless about how to repair their model of the free-market capitalist economy. But there you go - we've got Cameron, Clegg and Osborne.

It has been my view for some time now that, given the impact the American Government's actions can have on the UK (and elsewhere), we too should have a vote on who should be given the job. That's not going to happen, but meanwhile if you're bothered enough you can do this snappy little interactive quiz thingy at USA Today to discover to what extent your views on particular policy issues match those of the candidates. So whichever one of them does get elected you'll be able to say "Well, I would/would not have voted for him anyway so it's no wonder things are going so well/badly."

My results show that I am most closely aligned (73.4%) with the current incumbent, Barack Obama, which wasn't really a surprise. It was slightly alarming, however, to find that I agreed with Michelle Bachmann on one issue; but, fear not, I am not about to shoot, deport or otherwise disenfranchise all those gay Mexican non-believers and their tree-hugging blaspheming socialist friends and fellow-travellers. She is in favour of simplifying taxes, which I think would be a jolly good idea. But I suspect we differ somewhat on how, what and when.

Those Were The Days Part 27

Looking through old stuff for no particular reason, I came across this setlist from a gig we played in a village in Essex called 'Matching Tye'. I kid you not, the place exists and comes under the jurisdiction of Epping Forest District Council.

This event was self-promoted together with two other bands, the whole thing being coordinated by Charlie, whose idea it was. Tickets were sold in advance by word-of-mouth and sales went quite well - I never saw any money but at least I wasn't out of pocket. Most of the dosh went on hiring the hall and the PA, or so I'm told.

Unfortunately for us, however, on the day of the gig there was an almighty storm and the overhead cables that bring electricity to Matching Tye were blown down. These were repaired and power was restored just in time i.e. five minutes before the gig was due to start, so although we could set everything up we had no time to check anything out or to do sound-checks. The chappie working the PA was a complete stranger, and we were the first band to play. T'show must go on and so forth and we played with absolutely no idea of what we sounded like, and neither could I hear anyone else apart from the drums. And when I listened to the next two bands from out front, it was clear that the PA chap was clueless. Lead vocals were OK, and you could hear the hi-hat and the bass drum, but the rest was all over the place with stuff coming and going and some completely inaudible. Oy vay.

Epiphanyageness

The Adoration of The Mayo

Keats and Chapman in The Land of the Pharoahs

Whilst on a tour of the ancient and splendid sites and sights of Egypt, Keats & Chapman were befriended by a local guide who went out of his way make their visit as interesting and comfortable as possible. However, as time passed it appeared that the guide's mental state was not the full Egyptian shilling. He was obviously in the thrall of past experiences which constantly haunted him yet to which he would not admit. These phantom experiences gave him great grief. He had also made himself aware of Keats' work with the great psychoanalyst J G Stückebroitell and this seemed to be why he was being so helpful to the pair. His constant attentions began to grate on Chapman who thought the fellow should just accept past experiences and move on.
One day whilst on the river the friendly guide fell over the side of the boat and was floundering badly whilst screaming that he couldn't swim. Other guides on the boat insisted that he could and had been seeing conducting a rather elegant breaststroke the previous day. Keats, himself a non-swimmer, pleaded with Chapman, a gold medal lifesaver, to rescue the hapless guide.
Chapman slowly shook his head and gazing at the far horizon, stated quite flatly, "He's in denial".
Keats swallowed a date stone.

[With thanks to obee_1]

Well Done, Sherlock! #235

The Well Done, Sherlock! award on this occasion goes unusually to joint recipients and is awarded posthumously to The British Government of October 1952, led by the inimitable Sir Winston Churchill, and William Penney, mathematician and general all-round boffin, who was responsible for the development of British nuclear technology after World War II. Britain's nuclear weapons programme had been instituted some years beforehand and 1952 brought the occasion of Britain's first atmospheric test of a nuclear bomb. Something the Government was particularly concerned about was the effect that a nuclear bomb might have if one were to be brought surreptitiously on a ship into the River Thames in central London, and detonated. So William Penney came up with the idea of setting one off on a navy frigate in the Monte Bello islands of Australia to see what happened. This became known as Operation Hurricane.

They used a 25 kiloton plutonium implosion device and guess what? The ship was vapourised and the blast left a crater on the sea bed 6 metres deep and 300 metres across and we learned that letting off a nuclear bomb in central London would, generally speaking, be rather damaging. Duh! Well Done, Sherlock!

Ummm...

From ichbinkong

Muscle

Available at all good newsagents:

Yep!

A letter in today's Independent that pretty much sums it up:

The FSA think it wise now that bankers should ask for proof of earnings before granting a mortgage (report, 19 December). Lord Turner says it's time to end reckless borrowing. Surely, it's been reckless lending that's caused all the problems? Who in their right mind would grant a mortgage without checking the borrower's ability to repay?

The bankers in charge are, probably, some of the most incompetent individuals that this country has produced, individuals who have been paid immoral amounts of money, left their employment (some of them) with gold-plated pensions and share issues yet still have the cheek to complain that they will be forced to seek employment abroad. I say, good riddance and I'll join the queue to replace them.

When applying for my first mortgage in 1972, I could borrow only twice my annual salary. My wife's earnings were not even considered. Very sensible, because a lot of women at the time soon left to have children. Their jobs were not left open for them to return to in those days.

British taxpayers have to sit and watch their money being squandered on inflated salaries and bonuses while the majority of us have to make do with either a 2 per cent pay rise at most, or nothing at all. On top of this, they are now asked to work longer, pay more into their pension and get less when they retire. If they are lucky to enjoy any retirement. Of course, I'm forgetting; we are all in this together.

Andrew Cooper

Kimberley, Nottinghamshire

You Missed It

On Sunday, the western world will be celebrating the Winter Solstice and the Birth of Jesus. Some gullible types in the Eastern world have adopted the practice as well. Fair enough, any excuse for a knees-up I suppose. The problem is though, you've missed it. As eny fule kno, yer man Jesus wasn't born on 25 December. The shepherds were watching their flocks by night up in the hills so it probably occurred in late spring or early autumn. At the end of December any self-respecting shepherd would have his sheep (and himself) in a big shed below the snow line where it's warmer, not below zero and not snowing. As for the Winter Solstice, well that was this morning at 5.30 am - a bit later than usual because it's a leap year next year.  In case you were wondering, the Winter Solstice is when the North Pole is furthest from the sun as a result of the earth tilting on its axis i.e. 23.5 degrees from t'vertical.

Australians, typically, are a bit mixed up. They've got lots of sheep but being in the antipodes today is their Summer Solstice which is when you are supposed be dancing round Stonehenge with a load of smelly new-age hippy twits. No doubt Bruce, Sheila and Kylie be cooking raw prawns and the like on the barbecue instead, a quaint custom which the descendants of yer original Winter Solstice celebrators reserve for rainy days in August resulting in half-cooked re-formed offal of various sorts. Whereas in Cyprus, every day is a day for a barbecue and pork is the preferred option, followed by lamb, chicken and octopus. The Cypriots, however, confuse themselves by using the wrong calendar and celebrating the birth of yer man a week or so later. But they do know about snow in the mountains in winter so the sheep are tucked up in a warm shed somewhere.

The Romans, of course, celebrated Saturnalia at this time. This festival will be taking place as usual at the Vatican and the Pope will be taking up a collection in between sacrificing the oxen and flaying the unrepentant virgins.

Sandwich Wonderizer

It seems that Americans eat something called Wonderbread. It's a mass-market lowest-common-denominator sort of product designed for making sandwiches, presumably because the bread itself is at best bland or at worst like blotting paper. Be that as it may, Wonderbread have helpfully put a virtual sandwhich making sandwich builder gizmo on their website so that you can figure out how nutritious or not your particular favourite might be.  Good fun. My designs tend to be high in fat seeing as I usually include bacon.

Song Map

Available from WeAreDorothy for £20 plus £3.95 postage, a lithoprint of a road map made up of song titles: from Highway to Hell to Penny Lane, Itchycoo Park to Heartbreak Hotel. 

(Click on the map to embiggify.)

Notice to All Cats

That's it! Enough!

I have just spent a happy half hour or so clearing up various piles of cat shit from my back garden. Must have been several kilos worth, distributed randomly. Yecch, disgustomundo and other expletives.

Let it be henceforth known throughout this vicinity that in spite of the interweb tubes being festooned with pictures of adorable cats doing cute or clever things, I do not like cats crapping in my garden. I don't mind cats existing; just go and exist somewhere else, preferably all over the keyboard of your owner who thinks you are so flippin' adorable.

I have a selection of sharp and heavy objects by the back door. Should anything of the feline persuasion come anywhere within hurling range, whether innocently or not, one or more of these missiles will be aimed at it. There are no second chances. Death awaits you.

Bankers

I Used To Have Some Like That

Elvis Presley's old boots.

Apparently he wore these for his TV 'Comeback Special' in 1968. This was the legendary occasion when Elvis, after a dire five or six years making crap films with lousy music, got together in a TV studio with some of his old cronies and played some rock n' roll music dressed in black leather, with his hair longer and all greasy like. This went down well both in musical and presentational terms and revived the lad's career. But hopes for a regenerated Elvis were soon dashed to the ground. Sadly, he slipped back into degeneracy thanks to his manager's fixation with booking Elvis into doing seasons in Las Vegas for which the extremely naff white fringed costumes were devised and the music drifted into the middle of the road. Everyone made loadsamoney but the lad ended up a mere parody of himself. Ho Hum.

Any road up, Elvis' old boots have recently been sold at auction for $6,000 - a tidy sum just to get a sniff of the Great Man's foot odour.