Fixed-ish

Well, it’s been kind of hacked back together. Not what I needed on a Saturday morning, but hey ho, at least it’s semi-fixed.

Bollocks, Arse, and Fucking Shit

Yes, I made an addition to the template yesterday. And yes, I made a right monkey’s cock out of it. So, in the spirit of fuckwitdom, it may have to stay like this ’til Monday, as I have apparently not been as rigorous in backing up my template. There’s definitely a copy at work, but the one here was well and truly out of date. Bugger.

Content remains the same, it’s just that it’s gone back to the page “design” without CSS. Ooops. Anyway, I’m aware of it, I can do close to fock all about it ’til Monday, so we’ll just have to live with it. Hey Ho.

Disability Flights

I have to say, I’m really pleased to see that Ryanair were found guilty of discrimination by charging a disabled man for use of a wheelchair today. As the Disability Rights Commission chairman, Bert Massie, said in the story

“It beggars belief that a company with £165.23m annual profits last year, should quibble over meeting the cost of providing disabled people with a wheelchair.”

Ryanair have always been penny-pinching bastards, but this case was one of the better examples, and I can’t see that their petty “we’ll levy a 50p wheelchair levy on everyone who flies from Stansted and Gatwick with us” attitude is going to win them any friends either.

Fluffy Disease

via Parm, I have to agree with Chris, I really want these these fluffy toys. Quite how you explain your collection of fluffy lethal diseases, I have no idea – but the concept is sufficiently warped that it seriously appeals. And the idea of explaining to – say – a friend that you’ve got their kid a cuddly Black Death, well, that’s just comedy in the making…

Interference

According to the BBC, Lancaster City Council are considering whether people should report relationships with colleagues. Personally, I think it’s intrusive and pointless – yes, perhaps if there were problems with nepotism or, for example, an MD promoting their partner in preference to someone better qualified. But to my mind this entire thing should be an exercise in discretion – and generally, what the hell business is it of an employer to know whether one employee is shagging/living with/ married to another ?

According to this concept, it still wouldn’t be necessary to declare if one’s partner were working for a company that was tendering for council business, or any of the other infinitely dodgy practices normally detailed in Private Eye.

In the same week, Wigan council has barred all its workers from using the Internet, which is equally interfering, and a pain in the arse for all concerned. Again, to my mind so long as the internet use doesn’t interfere with everyday work, and is used sensibly (as opposed to looking for porn, downloading music, or *cough* blogging ) then who cares?

I simply don’t understand this nannying “we know what’s best” attitude, particularly when combined with a Big-Brother-esque surveillance of all employees, as with Lancaster council.

Slebs

While I haven’t yet watched any of it, of course it’s impossible to miss the media hype surrounding “I’m a non-entity, get me a publicist!” I wish I could fix a bleep button to my brain so that just mention of the words rendered me temporarily dead/blind so I could ignore the thing completely.

But I haven’t – and so I’ve been considering the d4d™ alternative version. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the idea for…… <drumroll> Dead Famous™ </drumroll>…

In the preliminaries, the public has a vote. We’re already used to Big Brother-type voting, and also for the 100 best books/films/comedies/positions/magicians/alcoholics. This is similar – but this time the public picks their 10 most-loathed celebrities.

Once that’s been done, the preparation takes place. Transporting the ten celebrities to a specially made compound, somewhere in a remote location (each series could have a different location) – they know that the winner can get £5m, and that the other nine will have more media coverage than they would normally get, by being involved with Dead Famous™. Once they’ve been dropped off at the location, and the helicopters/coaches/whatever have disappeared over the horizon, the celebrities are told why they’ll become famous.

Basically, the rules will be very simple. For the first week (or until a certain level of votes has been reached – whichever is earlier) all they have to do is live together, and be “normal”. Daily tasks have to be performed in order to get food/water. Each day, two of the rations of food and water are also spiked with a hallucinogenic – but that’s just so that the next day is more fun for the viewers.Throughout the first week, viewers are voting for the celebrities – depending on whatever vagaries the viewers want.

At the start of the second week, things change. The challenges are nowmore difficult, and decidedly more lethal – and with no health and safety adviser. If the nominated celebrity fails the task, then they die. The public vote for who they want to take the tasks. And at the end of the day, the last one living is the winner, and £5m better off.

Now I have to say, that’s a gameshow I’d watch…

But who would you want to see in the show?

Bucket of Shite

So, the government gets absolved of all wrong-doing yet again. Who’d have expected that, eh? And the report’s been done by a Lord, so it must all be kpsher kosher and above-board.

*Yawn*