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Alien-nation

A momentous event has occurred on May the 14th 2008 if you believe in these things:

The Ministry of Defence (MOD) has released no less than 160 formerly classified files detailing their investigations of UFO's (Unidentified Flying Objects) and the monitoring of extra-terrestrial activity. These are considered by some to be the UK equivalent of the 'X-Files', whose entry into the public domain has been long awaited by British UFO enthusiasts across the land.

The files contents sound pretty eclectic - there is an account of a person who claimed to have had 'relations' with an extra terrestrial from the tender age of seven, a happy state of affairs that dramatically ended when the unfortunate alien was killed by members of another intergalactic race. There is also the tale of the person who was astounded by the sight of a flying object with flashing coloured lights that was heading very rapidly towards...Heathrow Airport! Quelle suprise!

Since much of the evidence is of this high calibre, the information contained in the MOD data proves absolutely didly squat about the existence of alien life forms.

 Take me to your leader

Another thing that seems a bit of a croc is the alien visitation and abduction claims. These have an underlying assumption that a race of beings, capable of time and interstellar travel, will naturally choose the local hillbilly wino as a first point of contact on reaching Earth. Yeah right. An absolutely brilliant publicity stratagem.

Personally, I would love it if there was proof of something else being out there. It is certainly a statistical possibility, and I have always been a bit of a sci-fi fan since childhood, but judging by the evidence produced so far, the only hope I have of encountering aliens is by watching 'Star Wars'.

The drugs do work!

These little fellas have been the bane of my life during the summer months over the last few years:

They may be microscopic and look innocuous, but the weeping sore eyes, the runny nose, the general fatigue and the flu like symptoms they induce in me make pollen spores my all time public enemy number one. I developed Hay Fever at school as a teenager, where it conveniently kicked in whilst I was studying for my A levels. Since then, the start of summer has been marked by that familiar prickling sensation behind my eyes, and the never ending quest for snot free tissues.

Over the years I have been given quite a bit of advice about how to treat my pollen allergy. Taking Vitamin C apparently assists the bodies' natural defences against the symptoms by boosting the immune system, but you do have to be careful when choosing your Vitamin C supplement, as some can cause diarrhoea - the last thing you want is another part of your body running uncontrollably! Another way, which sounds like much more fun, is to eat honey that is produced in your local area. According to the logic, locally produced honey contains small amounts of pollen spores from the grass strains in your area, which when consumed, allows your body to build up resistance to the pollen, effectively inoculating you against the harmful affects. As a pragmatist, I have found the most effective way to deal with my pollen phobia is the most unpolitically correct one - just do the drugs. I am not talking about heroine or crack cocaine here - just a tablet and a few squirts of nasal spray. They are relatively cheap, and for me they work quickly.

Admittedly, this year hasn't been too bad so far. Up to a week ago the arctic weather has meant the pollen count has been kept in check. The recent sunshine and higher temperatures have put paid to this, and that slight stinging around my eyes, and the beginning of an itching sensation in my nose suggest that an urgent trip to the chemist is in order...

Rover Game Over?

 

It has been effectively for the last three weeks anyway. My Rover was over heating big time - on the A3, the temperature gauge was going off the scale, and the sounds of the engine were increased by the cacophony of the cooling fans working flat out. The garage diagnosed a blown head gasket, so for the last three quarters of a month, I have been at the tender mercies of public transport.

As experiences go, it has proved to be pretty uninspiring - it was quickly apparent just how rubbish the Rail and Bus systems are when you have to travel from Zone Four and beyond. It takes over double the drive time on the South West Trains service to go from New Malden to my workplace in Leatherhead, and even going short distances by rail to locales such as Kingston and Norbiton are subject to complications, as the frequent delays and cancellations make a relatively straight forward journey become, to use a technical term, a royal pain in the butt.

If the powers that be are in any way serious about getting people out of their cars and back on public transport, then some joined up thinking is required to make the public transport links outside of London Zone Three more effective. The evidence of such co-ordination between central government and the local authorities is pretty scant, so the only hope for me is that my car is repaired real soon.

Tweet-tastic!

Most radio can usually be categorised as either 'talk based', for example LBC, or be 'music based', like Virgin Radio, but all that is set to change as the dawn of the Digital Era has spawned a new style of radio broadcasting - there is now a digital station that broadcasts nothing but bird song!

It may sound like a load of old bird droppings but it is actually true, and what's more, the audience figures show that its popularity is spreading faster than Avian Flu. It seems that there is nothing more the general populace loves than hearing the sound of twittering through their Hi Fi Tweeters. The programming potential for this kind of thing seems to me to be kind of limited though, for example, would a chart show have things like;

"...and new in at number five, it's...a sparrow!"

The only other features they could usefully do would be in the 'Nigella's worm feast' or 'Jamie's Bird Seed Bonanza' type of vein. As you can tell, the possibilities are not endless.

The popularity of this station has been attributed to people finding bird song soothing and relaxing, which is something that is not true in my case. Whilst I have no serious problem with our feathered friends, their habit of dumping on my car is not very endearing, and the only memory associations their warblings invoke in me is the task of cleaning my Rover.

Broadcasting bird song is basically a creative cop out, as it is very easy to do - it literally is a case of doing radio on the cheep.

March of the Muppets?

Is it me, or are this year's crop of contestants in the BBC1 series 'The Apprentice' even more Muppet like than usual? As well as exhibiting the usual traits of self delusion, megalomania and egomania, quite a high proportion of this years selection of business hopefuls seem to be, in politically correct terms, common sensually challenged, or if you want to be blunt about it, as daft as a brush.

                                               Muppet master?

For those of you unfamiliar with the programme, the wannabe apprentices of the title fight it out for the hallowed prize of a six figure salary, working in the organisation of the famously forthright entrepreneur Alan Sugar. Sir Alan, as he likes to be known, sets them goals in a business related task, in which two teams of contestants compete, usually to return the most profit. Failure is definitely not an option, as one of the losing team is fired each week. As you can probably guess, the last person standing gets the job.

This weeks episode showed evidence that muppetry was indeed afoot. The teams had to use their combined business acumen to successfully provide the food at a local pub for a day. The Project Manager of the boy's team, a hapless guy called Ian, demonstrated very ably that he couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery, let alone sort out the food for one, and when he smugly announced at the start of the show that the word 'loser' was not in his vocabulary, the writing was on the wall. It came as absolutely no surprise that his team kind of ...er...lost. To be fair, he was not the only one. A fellow team mate believed that just because he had eaten out in a few Italian restaurants, he was a renowned expert in Italian Cuisine. The girls team, although slightly more organised, were not much better, muddling through despite loads of bickering and back biting. Basically it was a case of muppetry of the heinous.

As is the case with most of these shows, the contestants are probably not chosen entirely for their business ability - every show needs that element of entertainment value, and that is something that 'The Apprentice' provides in spades. The heady mix of failure in the face of adversity and the judgement day styli of the boardroom scenes make it compulsive viewing indeed, making it probably the best reality show on the TV at the moment.

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