Le Romantique?

allo, bonjour moi pettit poit, eye em, ow you say, goiiing tu seduce your parderner...

The french exchange student didn't actually say any of the above as he arrived at Toastmasters last night, especially not the bit about small peas, but there was something about his casual manliness that, had I been in any way unsure of my relationship with Herself, might have left me feeling slightly anxious.

There was a certain set to that partly shaven face, rugged good looks and toussled hair, a smooth confidence in that lilting French accent that I knew would turn the knees of many a British woman to jelly.  Indeed, as the night progressed it was clear that Jaques (not his actual name) was indeed raising the blood pressure of many of the female attendees - and maybe a few of the men as well.  Even the inscrutable Herself did admit that the rakish accent stirred some deep feeling.

Which made me wonder what it is about certain accents and countries that makes people appear sexually attractive?  French, Spanish, Italians and even Greeks have reputations as great lovers, but Germans with their clipped tones, and us Brits, do not.

And what of Americans?  Are they sexy, with their confidence?  Do their accents lead the men and the women of the world to collapse into a quivering wreck, or do they leave us running for the shower?

Other interesting accents include the Australian accent, where every sentence seems to end on an up note, as if asking a question - so a simple "I fancy a cup of tea" is transformed into "I fancy a cup of teA?"

Sadly the most unsexy accents I could think of were all British:

1) The Lahndahn (London) accent - or Britticus Cockney-Bowbellius - the cor blimey guvnors, as infamously portrayed by that most rare of species: the lesser spotted DickvanDykeius (co-species Marycus Poppinsus)

2) The Am-yam Buuuurmingum accent - or Midlandium Flatticus-prononcicus, so called because of the habit, in some areas of Birmingham, by starting a sentance "Am-yam ooolroit?" (are you alright)

3) The Liviirpewl aCCent - the McCartneyus Beatalicus - to be fair Paul McCartney et al had the flatter Liverpool accent and not the one that sounds permanently vexed and on the point of aperplexy

Our accent where I live is no better either - its very flat and we tend to drop "t"'s  -so the word "City" transforms into "ci-iy".  Hard to imagine Casanova doing that, now isn't it?

NB: apologies for the Latin.  Scholars of the language should probably note that merely adding "us" onto the end of an existing word does not actually transform it in any shape of form

Any examples of accents, sexy or otherwise, muchly appreciated

The Long And Boring Song (with apologies to Paul McCartney

The long and boring song

Tha-a-t just goes on and on

And never seems to end

Just goes on and on

It keeps on going on

A-and on, that boring song

That never seems to end

It just goes on and on

Many times, you thought that I

Had nearly reached the end

Then you reach another bit

To drive you round the bend

And still it's going on

Tha-a-at long, and boring song

It never changes pace

Nor varies in the least

It's not our greatest song

Tha-a-t long, and boring song

It's kinda obvious

We'd run out of ideas

And yet another bit

To the long, and boring song

Tha-a-t never seems to end

It just goes on and on

The Wisdom Of Others (Next Blog >)

Today I want to offer you the wisdom of others in a number of ways.

Firstly as an experiment over the last few days I've been trying the "next blog>" link in an attempt to find someone who was brand new to blogging and offer them much needed support.  I didn't find anyone who hadn't been posting for at least a couple of years, but what was more saddening was the amount of unique voices who now seem to be silent.

Still - amongst the religious propaganda, blogs about families, blogs trying to sell me things and blogs that had been deleted there were a few gems and I'd like to start by offering you a link to two that caught my eye:

1:

http://linea32.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog

Whos wonderfully obscure fascination with the Number 32 bus routes of the world amused me on several levels

2:

http://fati-smsjohorkluang.blogspot.com/

Who may be in a language I don't understand, but surely have the best family photo of all time?

Doing this was an interesting experience for me - there were countries on there that I never imagined blogging and it made me slightly ashamed I had never taken the time to learn about their language so I could interract

The other way I want to offer the wisdom of other is in that the other week, for various reasons, I bought a headset/microphone for my computer and suddenly found myself wondering if it would make a good recording mike.

So to find out, and in the spirit of the fact that this song pretty much sums up how I've been feeling recently, here's a recording.  Some of you might recognise it

Working class hero by Don't Feed The Pixies

Lest We Forget

I can't believe that I've known y'all for all this time without introducing you to my constant friend and companion.

What is it now: 3, 4 years?  Doesn't time when you're having fun?

Still, you'd've thought I would have mentioned my Super Hero Double Identity by now - even in passing and yet here we are...

I'm not suggesting, of course, that of an evening I dress in tights, put my underpants over my clothes and go thwarting ner-do-wells - my superhero ability is a slightly unusual one at best and, over the years, I have come to refer to this secret identity as Captain Paranoia.

Many of you will already be familiar with the Captain and feel that you too are visited by his late night whispers in your ear that tell you to go and check the front door that one final time just to be absoultely sure that you did indeed lock it. 

Extreme sufferers from his presence, those for whom he has set up a comfy chair between their eyes and watches everything they do, suffer from OCD - but every one of us have a small room marked VACANT in our brains that always has a bed prepared for the Captain - just in case he should arive with his megaphone and start yelling "YOU DIDN'T LOCK YOUR DOOR" just five minutes after you got into the one-way system contraflow that will take you half an hour to get out of, go back and discover that yes, you did indeed lock the door - only to find that Captain Paranoia has vacated the building to avoid the forthcoming knuckle sandwich

Worse still, however, are the occasions upon which the Captain choses to stay silent - like today, for instance, when a healthy bout of "Did you remember to pick up your works pass today?" would have saved the resultant half an hour of waiting in reception whilst the Security Guard sorted out a visitor pass, then the rigmarole of getting a temporary payment card so I could get a coffee

Or come to that Mr so-called Captain Paranoia where were you the day I cycled seven miles to work, got to the changing room/shower and had to come out and make an apologetic call to Herself to bring me the pair of trousers that were still lying waiting at home?

Didn't have much to say for yourself that day, did you?

Minor Earth, Major Sky

So a while ago I decided I was going to try and do a self portrait.  I'd already done one from a photo of myself playing the guitar and it had turned out vaguely human - so I thought: let's go for it, only this time playing the Saxophone.

The end result of the painting was like a 2 dimensional version of those Morlocks from The Time Machine - and the less said about the Saxophone the better.

So eventually I decided I would paint over it and tried to do a seascape from a Bob Ross DVD with some new Acrylic paints - designed to mix like oil paints.  Only the designer had failed to mention that although they had tried to make them mix like oil paints they had totally failed and what I ended up with was something not dissimilar to the sky in "The Scream"

And then I saw a photo taken from a plane of Mount Hood, posted by Writerquake and thought that it looked like an interesting subject.

So there it is, reproduced in Acrylics on canvas.  Hardly Van Gough (hey, I'd settle for Van Driver) but probably the best I'll get from this canvas as it's now been used three times.

The only problem now is what to do with it.  I have totally run out of wallspace and these days usually only do a painting if I know I can give it away as a present.  Mostly the response to which is a slightly strained smile and a "thank you" between gritted teeth, but then Van Gough never sold any either :)

New Light Through Old Windows

Some years ago, longer ago than I care to remember, me and my friend were on a photography course.

We were out taking photos, looking for the shadows: the things that other people might not notice when we came upon the remains of an old factory.  Little more than a few bricks that marked the passing of a few hundred working lives: lost forever now.

And as we were taking pictures of brick piled onto brick a man approached us and tried to sell us on God, saying that it was the work of Satan that we were focussing so much on destruction and that if we followed this path then surely there could be no salvation for our souls.  The only solution?  Come to his church meeting next Sunday.

Now, even as a kid, I knew that this man was talking from where the sun don't shine, but I guess that I was still to young to really tell him why.  So, my friend: if you're still out there - here's why.

In every abandoned brick there are a thousand grains of sand.  Tiny atoms of creation that have come together in this place.  In every piece of destruction there is the hope of resurrection: the birth of something new.  Every abandoned building, no matter how decrepit, has a story to tell.  What lives were lived in this place?  What happened for the building to get into this state?  If God did indeed create then surely it is equally magnificent that he can destroy.

To look on all that wonder and only see evil?  Now that's what I call the loss of a soul

What Is Buckingham Palace For?

The Royal Family: titular heads of the nation since time immemorial.  Despite being mostly germanic these days Queen Elizabeth can trace her ancesty all the way back to the first Queen Liz and probably even before that.

But boy do they have a lot of houses.  Queen Elizabeth herself chooses to live mostly at Windsor Castle and Balmorral - which rather begs the question: what is that big house in London Town doing to earn its keep?  No actual royals live there, it's only open at certain times of year to the public - what does it DO???

So, in an unusual twist on my List O' Fives postings I'm going to bring you a list of five things that Buckingham Palace could be used for, probably should be used for and almost definately isn't used for.

Please feel free to join in the fun by suggesting your own...

#1: The Cornflake Testing Room
As you may or may not know any produce used within the Royal household is allowed to carry the Royal crest.  This is, at the end of the day, a slightly subliminal method of advertising.  The Queen uses it: so you should as well.  Kellogg's Cornflakes are amongst said approved produce.

However, as the head of the Empire (which once spanned the world encorporating the Americas and India and currently consists of two bemused sheep in Devonshire both called Simon) I'd like to think that QE2 applies her exacting standards and frequently checks that said items are still up to her approval.  This is where the Cornflake Testing Room comes in - where she, or a minor royal, are required to spend one day a month sampling jams, breakfast cerials, toasters and the like.

#2: The Conveyor Belt Room
For various reasons I was looking on line at the list of Queen's Birthday Honours - and boy, that's a hell of a lot of sword wielding the poor woman gets through.  Obviously it's not just the Queen that does it.  Prince Charles also takes his turn and therefore presumably some of the minor royals as well (You'd probably feel a bit cheated if you turned up to get your Knighthood and it was Eugene or that one that does the showjumping that gave you your badge)

So to cut down on time and effort for Her Majesty the Royal household recently installed one of those revolving luggage racks that they have at airports and installed a throne at one point.  The various dignitaries pile into the room in groups of fifty or sixty, line up along the conveyor belt and then the Queen trundles through on her moving throne passing out the awards with a polite, but frankly slightly strained smile.

#3: The Anti National Anthem Lounge (Or A.N.A.L. for short)
Let's face it: at some point in every musician's career you will hear them complain about being sick and tired of "that song" that made them famous and they have to play at every single concert.  For Elton John it's probably Your Song, for Barry Mannilow it might be Mandy and so forth.  Being Queen for fifty plus years must be a strange lifestyle: wherever you go everything is clean, everyone is extraordinarily happy to see you and they always play you the same piece of music.

Let's face it "God Save The Queen" is a dirge and there must have been times where the Queen has had to fight the urge to shout "if one hears that piece of music again..."

So, and in kindness to other world leaders, she had the A.N.A.L. room set up as a refuge to Kings, Queens, Prime Ministers and yes, Presidents, to go as the one room in the entire world where it is 100% guaranteed that they will NEVER have to hear that music

#4: The Embarrassing Relative Room (aka The Prince Philip Suite)
Aside from the recent Royal wedding when was the last time you saw Prince Edward in public?  That's because the Queen is still making him live in the Embarrassing room as a punishment for his involvment in theatre and specifically for organising It's A Royal Knockout (a misguided attempt to make the Royal family look "hip" and "down with da kids" by involving them in a TV game show)

Since the Queen is no longer allowed to lock people in the Tower of London she keeps the Embarrassing Relative Room for all the times when Philip says something embarrassing (about once or twice a day)

#5: The Royal Robot Room
It's a little known fact that in the twilight of her years the Queen Mother was often not up to the task of public apperances and was frequently replaced by a robot.  Hence you never saw her speak in public.  The same is true for all the Royals who, lets face it, have a hectic schedule and can't be everywhere.  So for all those embarrassing moments when Prince Charles is supposed to be picking up the kids from training academy but has double-booked himself with opening a new factory somewhere they have a room where they keep robot duplicates.  Sometimes this is also used as a changing room for Lookey-likeys (people who bear close physical resemblance to a royal), all of whom have signed the official secrets act.

#6: The Wave Practising Room
With all that polite waving she does its a small wonder that the Queen doesn't suffer from Repetitive Strain Injury - and the reason for this can only be that she has a special wave practising room stuffed full of mirrors where she can go and practise waving as well as lift weights designed to strengthen her wrist as well as receive a relaxing hand massage

NB: We were going to add a seventh room: where all the photos for the stamps and the money are taken - but we rather suspect that one actually does exist.

Any further suggestions are welcome as always