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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- _/_/_/_/_ _/_/ _/ _/_/ _/ . _/_/ _/ __ _/_/ _/ / / / / / _/_/_/_/_/_/ / /- / /-/ _/_/_/_/_/ / / \ / \ . . . -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The blog that didn't realise it was a blog, until it was too late! Here we go again.. We haven't had one of these for a while. Yes, it's another of those old Maggie columns, taken out of its cryogenic locker, hastily rewarmed to tottering temporary life, then forgotten about for another couple of years after the deed is done. Just ask 'Mini-Mag' and 'In the Trashcan' about how that feels! Why do we persist in these acts of random text-based cruelty? Because we can! In the Trash-Bus?? ==================== So Why are the British so car loving and public transport adverse? Here's a possible answer! You might remember gwEm penning a little diatribe about the (non)utility of the public transport system, particularly the red and double-deckered roadgoing part of it in the previous Alive. Well one of my work collegues, Pete L. related an amusing tale this morning, based on his traveling experience to work. Perhaps time to reconsider the 'not guilty' verdict? Pete was walking to the bus stop, spotted a bus coming up quickly, and as he was fifty yards off, he broke into a run. The bus driver, having seen this, flashes an evil grin, shrugs his shoulders in a "Nothing to do with me mate!" fashion, and carries on driving past without stopping. But Pete is resourceful, he knows the short-cuts, and the bus route is on a loop around a housing estate. Thus he is able to get to the next stop before the bus does. It arrives shortly after he does. Our man gets on, and then the argument starts. "That was a little bit mean of you!" (Opening shot.) "Well I couldn't stop, it's against the law to pick up passengers between stops!" the driver abruptly replied. "But you saw me running, you could have waited for me at the bus stop?" "Well I was running late, I didn't have the time for that!" (Huffily.) "But it would only have been for a few seconds?" And then the driver actually said THOSE words "It's more than my job's worth to do that!" (Muted ironic applause from the audience.) Shocked? Yes I am that he resorted to such cliches. I'm surprised that he didn't come out on strike, seventies-style at that very instant, calling himself "Brother Stan" and quoting lines from 'On the Buses'. But the fun continues, oh yes, time to twist the screw in a bit more. So Pete does! "That's a very poor approach to customer service you have there! You're never going to amount to anything more than a bus driver with that attitude!" "I'm not JUST a bus driver, I used to be a manager!" He angrily blurted back. "AND I BET YOU WERE SHIT AT THAT JOB, WHICH IS WHY YOU'RE DRIVING A BUS NOW!" The 'discussion' more or less ended there, although the bus driver spent the rest of the journey muttering angrily to himself about customers. I guess he spent the rest of the day driving his route angrily, and woe betide any cyclist who got in his way later on! Amazingly, Pete didn't get thrown off, but he had already paid his fare. He also related a boyhood tale of what happened when he pressed the emergency cut-off switch on a totally different and unrelated bus, just out of curiousity of course. The engine stopped as per plan, and he found out how quickly and far that a lot of bus drivers can run if properly pissed off! Something like the first chase scene in Terminator 2, when the young John O'Connor is trying to escape on a trailbike, from the tirelessly inhuman T1000 in cop disguise running after him! And to be at least a little bit fair to the driver, Pete did pay him with a five pound note and no change, which is guaranteed not to promote feelings of empathy and friendship! Buses, in the trashcan with 'em! (Maintenance bloke in long brown coat and cloth cap takes one look, purses his lips and utters "It's more than my job's worth to do that!") I think something we already knew! ===================================== I'm sure a lot of you have seen this picture all over the place, but we're happy to reproduce it here for those people who might have been cut off from all sources of electricity and computers by floodwater or something over the last six months. I guess if the caption is by Sky News, Rupert Murdoch is getting tired of his American puppet, and he's going to be replaced by something less overtly stupid? I Don't like Tuesdays! ========================= Uh oh, it's another obscure dislike, and this one is even less based in reality than usual! What is it this time? Well, do you have a day of the week which you do not enjoy, the approach of which fills you with dread, and contaminates the previous evening with an air of heavy expectation? Now most people will be punching the air and screaming "Monday is the killer!" at this point, but I beg to differ. Monday as the suckiest day of the week has been overhyped. I personally find that Monday is over before you are aware of it. You come into that first day of the week, keyed up for a bad time, and come out relieved that it wasn't so. There is also a residual benefit from having had a rest at the weekend working in your favour as well. But Tuesday really does suck! This day can be best summed up as 'Monday part 2'. On Tuesday, the feelgood factor from the previous weekend has faded. It is still a long way to the next weekend. Also those people at work who were in a hurry but asking nicely on Monday are back on Tuesday screaming at you! Also the time dilation effect which helps Monday pass by quickly is absent, so Tuesday d-r-a-g-s! In fact, the idea of a seven day week should be reconsidered. The shape is wrong, there's a day too many. A six day week would rule, and my candidate for getting rid of the excess day? Well do you really need to ask?! Invasion of the postal snatchers! ================================== Now is it me, fine-tuning symptoms of classic paranoia, or is there a problem with the postal service? (Is there ever *not* a problem with the postal services?!) I think I've been here before, more than once in fact, about the "service" provided by parts of the Royal Mail. At the risk of upsetting some readers (hi Neo!) I'm going to exercise a little pent-up wrath on the heads of the thieving bastards in the sorting office! To keep a long story reasonable, I've had items 'disappear' on a number of occasions this summer. Firstly, it took two attempts for Evil to get a copy of the Atariscene 2004 dvd to me. Then there was the matter of the missing ST Magazine, which couldn't find its way from Nick Harlow's place in Medway, over to Northampton. There was also a replacement for my time-expired Mastercard, on which the jury is still out. The PIN number arrived when it should, but of the card, there was no sign. I got this in the end, after prodding the issuing office, but they went to town on a bulked-up envelope and special delivery, so I think one of those perhaps didn't get to me? But what if I'm unjustly accusing for the sake of it? What alternative theory could there be? There is one possible candidate... Is it just me, or does it seem sometimes that if you are really waiting for a nice piece of post to turn up, and it is late, you get an extra-large delivery of cruddy junk mail instead. It's as if the junkmail has attached itself onto and absorbed the proper item of post to replace it, Invasion of the Bodysnatchers style! Then again, perhaps not... From the web archives of the Daily Telegraph, 16th March 2005. "Postal workers collectively stole 94,000 items between April 2003 and March 2004, according to Royal Mail. "This is something the postal service is 2004fighting hard to stamp out," says detective chief inspector Roger Cook, who leads a card crime policy group that consists of representatives from Britain's biggest banks and senior policemen." Mind you, it's not much better elsewhere in Europe.. This extract is also from the Daily Telegraph (11.6.05) "Post office staff in Milan have been caught on camera for the first time doing what Italians have suspected for years: systematically opening correspondence and stealing cheques, cash and valuables." "An inquiry involving undercover police in Italy's biggest sorting centre led to the arrest of 17 employees." "Cameras installed by police in the office's washrooms showed employees nonchalantly going into cubicles not only with envelopes concealed in their clothes, but in some cases carrying bags of letters. Workers could be seen removing money and flushing away the letters." "Italy's postal service has suffered decades of public mistrust." Aaaagh! Oktoberfest Nurse in Fairground porn shock outrage! ===================================================== (From 'The Register', 27th Sept 2005) Three Italian visitors to Munich's legendary Oktoberfest came away with more than a hangover last week when they were entertained by the sight of a nurse pleasuring herself with a sex toy in a Ferris wheel gondola while two men armed with a video camera looked on. The shocked trio immediately reported the outrage and police swiftly cuffed the perpetrators, later identified as a 21-year-old registered nurse, a 25- year-old university student and a 30-year-old political sciences teacher. Brilliantly, the smutmongers explained that they had been "engaged in a sociological experiment to measure public responses to unexpected behaviour", which sounds like a plausible defence for just about everything from full-on rumpy-pumpy in Trafalgar Square, to picking up an old lady's irritating and yapping pet poodle and drop-kicking it under the wheels of a bus. A local police spokesman issued a statement to clarify the reason for their swift action. "It's not October yet. If the festival was called the Septemberfest, we might have turned a blind eye. Alternatively, if they had waited for a few more days for the right month then it wouldn't have mattered, but as they simply couldn't restrain themselves, we had to step in..." And yes, I made that last bit up! Putting on the Blitz! ======================= Smurfville gets blasted with death from the skies! It could be the Smurf cartoon that escaped from the darkside, where Gargamel is sick and tired of playing around, gets himself properly tooled up, and comes after those pesky Smurfs with the best munitions that money can buy, loaded into a B52. On the other hand, it could be an attempt by the Belgian branch of Unicef to carry out an awareness booster to show the dire effects of war on children. Apparently, this 25 second 'adult' episode of the Smurfs was all too successful, with those children who sat through it being left tearful and distraught afterwards. This radical departure from the normal kiddie cartoon, sees the cuddly blue creatures kicking off the action by dancing hand-in-hand round the campfire while singing that catchy Smurf song we all know and, erm, know. Death then begins to rain from the sky as bombs from an unseen aircraft spread fiery death through Smurfdom leaving just a "scorched and tattered Baby Smurf sobbing inconsolably, surrounded by prone Smurfs", as the Telegraph puts it. The end caption reads: "Don't let war affect the lives of children." The ad campaign is intended to raise awareness of the plight of Burundi's former child soldiers,and raise up to 70,000eu towards their welfare. Unicef Belgium spokesman Philippe Henon explained: "It's controversial. We have never done something like this before but we've learned over the years that the reaction to the more normal type of campaign is very limited." Erm, right, so what next to tickle our jaded appetite for catastrophe? Grainy camcordered battlefield footage of My Little Pony being forced to run across a minefield at bayonet-point perhaps?! The advertising agency behind the campaign, Publicis, wanted to go even further. Julie Lamoureux, account director at Publicis for the campaign, explained that the agency's original plans were toned down somewhat. "We wanted something that was real war. Smurfs losing arms, or a Smurf losing a head, but they said no." The Register nicely sums up the rather dubious double-edged appeal of this cartoon, in other words, there is a part of many of us which is pissing ourselves laughing at this idea.. "Of course, the Smurfs are a Belgian invention, first appearing in comic form in 1958. This might explain the horrified reaction over there. We reckon, on the other hand, that if the Smurf apocalypse TV ad were shown in Britain, Blair and Bush's approval rating for military action abroad would treble in a flash among adults more than willing to support any initiative which involves dropping munitions on Smurfs." Sins of the Wolfie Revisited!? ================================ Okay, here's one which you might remember from a few issues ago. Back in issue 5, I wrote about a strange episode from my time in higher education, where rather too much information was revealed about someone. The person in question, Graham Fitchie, was something of a pendantic social irritant in his day-to-day dealings. This is forgivable. What was rather less forgivable, was the revelation that he had a locker full of paedophile literature. He had taken great care to keep this out of view, until his fellow students got him out of his room in the halls of residence on some pretext, and someone took a peek inside to see what the big secret was... The college authorities were discreetly tipped off, and they apparently dealt with the problem by shunting him off the teaching course he was doing with a series of bad grades. From there, we heard no more. An internet search with random keynames of people from my past history pulled up a newspaper report of a trial and sentencing of an individual called Graham Fitchie for paedophile offences. At that point, the Alive 5 article was born. In common with the rest of the Alive issues, it has gone online in easy-to- browse webzine form, quietly sat minding its own business, and nothing more has been heard until a few days ago. My Alive 5 article is now 'top of the hits' when the key words "Graham Fitchie" are Googled. I found that out after getting the following email. From: <chris.holland910@ntlworld.com> Date: 11 October 2005 20:20:56 BDT To: <tom.morris@glosnews.com> Cc: <cih@atari.org> Subject: Graham Fitchie Hi, I am an agency journbalist trying to track down Graham - he is believed to be working in Gloucestershire as a storyteller. Obviously he shouldn't be so I need to expose him. I was hoping that you may have a contact etc. Your story from 2002 pulled up on the web. All info about him, which uni etc would be very helpful. regards Tom Morris Now this is strange, and not a little bit worrying. I've suddenly become the leading authority on Graham Fitchie, the convicted paedophile, and there is a suggestion he might be up to his old tricks again? Needless to say, the information I have on him is now twenty years old, and has only been updated from other sources since. Why would an "Agency Journbalist" want to write to me? The 'Glosnews' connection seems to check out, there is a news agency with that name based in Gloucestershire. They collect stories and sell them on to other news reporting and media organisations. Apparently they were the first people at the scene, when the police started to dig up the cellar at serial killer Fred West's house. So I answer the email, politely and regretfully. Hiya Tom, and hmmm? This is interesting, not to mention disturbing information. Unfortunately, just about everything I know about this guy is contained within that article. I haven't got any current idea of anyone who might know his whereabouts, and I definitely have had no interest in getting back in touch with him! I'd be interested to know how he has become a 'live' issue again, I guess you heard something which my article strongly supported? I could tell you which higher education institute he attended in the mid- 1980's, but I'm understandably reluctant to give out that information until I know a little bit better about what is going on. I will tell you for now it was a College of Higher Education (CHE) in the north-west of the country. I did not personally discuss with Graham anything to do with his sexual preferences, and that information came out, secondhand, the way it was described in the article. I might add that he generally conducted himself day to day in an attitude of being permanantly 'right' and unable to accept he ever made a mistake, and I guess that this attitude is a classic sign of an unrepentant repeat sexual offender. I'm sure someone with the right sort of letters after their name would confirm that. I'm sorry that I'm not able to be more helpful, but I wish you all the best in tracking him down. Chris H. This is not the end of the story, as the next day, I get another email from an entirely different source with the same subject title! From: terrorize@mac.com Date: 12 October 2005 10:16:33 BDT To: cih@atari.org Subject: graham fitchie Am looking for info on Graham Fitchie. Can you call me.....07766317434.... or email me back. Thanks. What a lovely email address he's got, 'terrorize@mac.com' - This makes the sender sound like a vigilante madman, who won't rest until that pervert nonce is taken off the streets, permanently! In order to cut things as short as possible, I decided to ring the mobile number provided. The person that I spoke to said he was another journalist, this time claiming to work for a national newspaper, and basically asking the same sort of questions as our friend Tom Morris was previously. I give the same answer that I gave in the email, that is all my information is very old news, and there are no fresh leads forthcoming. I'm still not quite convinced of the veracity of this second correspondent. But he was surprised to hear that there was more than one person chasing this same line of enquiry. Also this second person suggested that the current rumours about Graham Fitchie might be exaggerated, and he was looking into them with a degree of scepticism. From where I am sitting, it looks like there is a presently unknown third party, not keen on Graham Fitchie for presently unknown reasons, who is making lots of phone calls to different news organisations. Nothing else has happened (yet) since that last phone call, but if it does before the cut-off date for Alive 11, I'll update this text accordingly. 5.11.05 Update. Well there hasn't been any more strange emails from people keenly seeking his whereabouts. On the other hand, Google seems to have sprouted a couple more websites with a person called Graham Fitchie on them, one of which is calling itself 'The Gloucester Storytellers', which seems to back up what the first correspondent was talking about. Of course it could be a totally different person called Graham Fitchie from the one which was convicted in 1997. I tend to hope that this story will actually come to nothing if this is the case. We're not into promoting misguided 'News of the World' style vigilante peedo-stomping justice, inflicted by permanently idignant but terminally shit-thick people, based on wrong information! Can't pay? CAN'T PAY!! ======================== Melbourne, Australia, and Melbourne Council's latest wheeze to pack 'em in with strict parking fines is going horribly wrong. A 71 year old man was an early recipient of one of these tickets. He was in close proximity to the issuing traffic warden. He was also blissfully unaware of this minor official, as he had been lying dead in his car for several days beforehand! An explanation of "The officer didn't see anything unusual about the vehicle" went down as well as a one-way ticket to the crematorium. Well, it couldn't happen here in England, our traffic wardens will get you five minutes over the time allowed, maximum! So they'll find your inert dead corpse still warm! Please sir, can I go to the toilet? ===================================== Ok, here's another ugly new corporate word. This is "Dataveillance". It's a favoured word with the Automobile Association (AA) today, as they monitor their employees and what they get up to in their working day. The average AA employee is allowed 82 minutes personal time per day, which would typically be accounted for as 60 minutes for lunch, 15 minutes for a tea or cigarette break, and just seven minutes going to the toilet time. Hang on a minute, going to the toilet time?! Yes, that is being logged electronically as well, you will really have to account for those extra minutes, even if you are having a tricky time shifting things! Zoe Williams of the Guardian cuts to the chase before I do.. "Now, a system as stringent as that ought, surely, to have some kind of exemptions. Say you're constipated in the morning, you should be able to register that, against the possibility that you will blow all your minutes before the afternoon. Naturally, though, in a company that doesn't trust you to go to the toilet unguarded, you'll have to provide proof of your downstairs malfunction. I can see a horrible modern industrial dystopia opening up, where managers have to inspect stool samples and cubicles are wired for straining noises." It isn't just a moment of managerial madness at the AA either, several other leading companies are thinking of introducing such a system, names such as Tesco, Securicor, Pets at Home. Some commentators consider it as "Treating employees like battery hens." But battery hens are free to defecate as they wish, without some berk of a line manager standing over them with a stopwatch and several snarky questions as to why they took so long, so no comparison really! Clive Sinclair unveils Segway killer? ======================================= Teetering right on the edge of the nutter/genius line, Clive Sinclair, founder of Sinclair Research, and godfather of the abortive sewing-machine like C5 electric buggy, today announced yet another desperate shove at firing off a new personal transport revolution, this time in the form of a personal aircraft, for one. The Sinclair "Avionica" helicopter wig is due to go on sale shortly. It is still awaiting approval from the Civil Aviation Authority, who have issues with the power-to-weight ratio. Currently, Avionica has been successfully test-flown, but only with slim to anorexic fashion models. There have been concerns that the engine used in the prototype has difficulty lifting off with anyone of an average physique strapped on underneath, let alone 20-plus stone Tubby Johnston types. The question of reasonable battery life needs to be addressed too. Currently it is abysmal, cutting out at around 30 seconds after lift-off, just when it reaches its normal operating altitude of 100 metres. Sinclair Research are also knee-deep in complicated negotiations with Apple Inc, about using the latter's iPod as a controller. Providing all these issues can be resolved in time, Avionica should go on sale in the first quarter of 2006. And the fat bloke sings.. ============================ In the style of Lotek writing in his UCM days, I'm doing some serious padding out of this article with some song lyrics, but I tend to think that these suit the tone of this article quite well! By the Arrogant Worms. Has anyone got this? I bet it's a wicked tune! Did you know they were Canadian? No?? Ok Felice, calm down! Malcolm Solves his Problems! -------------------------------- Billy solves his problems by calling up his mom Heather solves her problems with drugs and alcohol Daniel solves his problems with a doctor and the law, But Malcolm has his own way, and it's better than them all.. Malcolm solves his problems with a chainsaw! Malcolm solves his problems with a chainsaw! Malcolm solves his problems with a chainsaw! And he never has the same problem twice! Whether it's a bill or a cheque arriving late, Rancid marble cheese or a steak that's second-rate, Awful TV programs or a broken Elvis plate, or his fiance who dumps him because he's gaining weight.. Malcolm solves his problems with a chainsaw! Malcolm solves his problems with a chainsaw! Malcolm solves his problems with a chainsaw! And he never has the same problem twice! And that is your lot for this Dirk around! See you again "soon". Of which, "Soon" meaning a time period of three years or less? CiH, and bits of others, for Alive Mag, Various to Nov '05 |
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