Television today

Radio 4 went to Blackpool and Morecambe this week and as part of the programme they did they talked to someone whose name I missed but he said something profound and maddeningly true.

In the old days, talented people used to appear on television so that ordinary people could be entertained and informed in their homes.

Today the ordinary people are on the television while the talented people are at home.

That sums up the modern obsession with this ridiculous celebrity TV nonsense I am constantly avoiding now.

DW

Orang Utan Nonsense

Who are these ridiculous people they put on the telly?

 

I caught the second half of tonight's programme on BBC 1 on Orang Utans. They are following the work of an Orang Utan sanctuary in Borneo where they find baby OUs and so on and rehabilitate them then release them into the wild.

 

So this goofy woman took a baby OU for a walk through the trees and she was AMAZED when the OU climbed a tree. How did it know what to do?, she asked.

 

Then they came across a fully grown OU that had spent its life in a cage, poor thing. They released it into the wild immediately and then went back for a look see the following day. This woman was ASTONISHED to see the thing up a tree behaving as if it had been living there all of its life.

 

I'm sorry, woman, but these are wild creatures and they just know these things: sheep dogs know how to look after sheep without being told; snakes know how to eat mice without being told and turtles born on a beach with nary a mother nor a midwife anywhere near, know that they need to get into the sea and then do their business.

 

Can they put more intelligent people on these programmes? People who are neither AMAZED nor ASTONISHED when wild animals do what wild animals are meant to do.

 

DW

True story

How about this for a bit of nannyism?

Mr X was shopping at Tesco and when he was asked at the check out whether he wanted the vouchers for schools. He said no but the lady behind him in the queue could have them. That lady declined so the check out operator pointed at someone in another queue and said he could give them to her.

Mr X replied, 'Look at what's in her trolley. I'm not giving the vouchers to anyone who can buy that rubbish.'

I kid you not!!

DW

Vienna

So, I was in Vienna airport yesterday and because I had around five hours to kill I wanted to use their CAT train to get to the city sentre within 16 minutes. The instructions were entirely in German so found it a challenge. A knight in shining armour coming towards me: a member of the local constabulary.

Me:     Sorry, do you speak English?

Plod:   (Head goes down, pace of walking increases) Nein! (Walks off!)

That sorted that then.

I wandered on and found two more machines nearer the station but neither of them worked so I took it as my cue that I shouldn't bother. So I didn't. Pity; but I'll go next time!

DW

Dubai Story Two: Tarts in a Bar II The South African in our party had been with his wife and parents in law to an Indian Restaurant a few months ago and they said we'd enjoy the experience as it was fascinating. We went: he, his wife, the news reader, the psychologist and me. Excellent food. Horrendously loud singing all night from two men and a woman. An enthusiastic backing group too. Some catchy tunes but all of the songs were all in Hindi or Urdu so following the lyrics was a challenge. Then around a dozen very attractive ladies paraded onto the stage in a line: none was ugly and some were stunning beauties and all from the sub continent. The singer called out three names at a time and those three girls would remain on stage and would then dance, almost in time to the music, for the duration of a song. Then they would call another three girls to do the same. And so it went on. Then a chav approached the front of the stage and threw what looked like a fistful of business cards all over the stage. A man went onto the stage and swept them all up. Our psychologist announced that he knew which of the girls was sleeping with which singer!!! More singing and dancing and the odd bout of business card throwing. We all cackled at the thought that we were in with a chance with our favourite young lady ... usual man's rubbish talk. The news reader announced that he was in love and so was his chosen one. At some stage we started referring to her, perhaps uncharitably. as number 19. The South African sought out the owner of the bar and asked what was going on: who were the girsl, what was the chav doing (he had the baseball cap with the sinble biggest nib you've ever seen, by the way!) by flinging the cards ... The girls were ladies of the night and in order to spend some time with one, you had to remain there until the show was over and you had to throw your card onto the stage generally and one or even more of the girls would call you to arrange a date. Alternatively, throw your cards at your favoured girl, let's say number 19 for example; and if she liked the look of you she would call you. Good food and good company and the girls were lovely but we left at a commodious hour and as alone as when we arrived. DW

So I've done another successful stint and then in a hair raising dash to somewhere else to present a three day Train the Trainers workshop that went well too I believe. I am going to give you a few stories from that trip that include

• Tarts in a bar I
• Tarts in a bar II
• The quiz that was fixed
• It's only 16 minutes to Central Vienna ... Oh no it's not
• Thick with dust Tarts in a Bar I

There were seven or eight workshop leaders this time and one wife of a trainer. We went out for the evening to a bar/restaurant near the airport: eat all you can, drink all you can ... I think Lions would have been over faced by the amount of meat on offer to be honest. Veggies like me had little to choose apart from their glorious puddings. There really was an endless bar too but that was of no interest to me either. So I was happy with the ambiance and the company: apart from the loud and outrageously gay men on the table next to ours. Why do these kinds of gays have loud and lispy voices and mouths the size of the Channel Tunnel? Trouble is, although we were there until late, so were they!

There was a grump bucket in our party, sitting next to me of course, who tried to get me to leave with him at 11 pm. Not that he's gay, just that he wasn't enjoying himself and being far too tight to pay the entire £5 taxi fare, wanted someone to share it with. I stayed and so did he: like a cat on hot bricks he was too. There was a mainstream psychologist in our party and at times like that, it's best to put on a brave face on your personality can be laid bare once you've left the room. Wonder what he really thought about me? Paranoid perhaps?

Anyway, everyone left apart from three of us: we decided to go to the bar next door for a night cap and I had my first alcohol of the evening there: a pint of lager type stuff. The room was wall to wall ladies of the night with the saddest collection of flabby, old, foreign men I have ever seen. The girls were all in clumps of Russians, Chinese, Filippinos and others. One or two were very attractive but others were aggressive, not so pretty and were smoking like chimneys.

One young man found a very pretty young thing to dance with him but as he listed first to port and then to starboard, she resisted his attempts to maul here. I suppose he felt he was being amorous and as he might be a paying customer, it was fine by him. She clearly wanted his business but not his advances and whilst she left him soon after that eposide, she did go back to him but his neck was still listing at 45 degrees from the vertical so she left again.

One of our party declared he was in love and she was in love with him: the news reader we called him as he reminded us of a news reader from BBC World! The psychologist gave us a running commentary on what was happening hither and yon and I was eagle eyed at never having been in such a situation before.

The newsreader was in no fit state to test his hypothesis although I did try to teach him a few key phrases in Russian so that he could communicate with his would be paramour but his mouth lost consciousness! So we left and headed back to the hotel with the place still heaving: we had to pay to get in too but that included a free drink.

The news reader staggered from the car to the hotel with, believe it or believe it not, one of his leather flip flop type sandals on back to front. A miracle! You try it!! He headed off to the bar for yet another night cap astonishingly and he did make it to his 9 o'clock start seven and a half hours later.

See next messages for further instalments!

DW

The cheesemakers have arrived

Remember the Monty Python team lauding the cheesemakers? Blessed are the cheesemakers they said: Life of Brian, wasn't it?

Now, you might not believe it but it's true: there are two web sites that will allow you, I kid you not, to watch a cheese maturing in the way that it is sometimes said to be more interesting to watching paint dry or grass to grow or listening to a coffin warping.

Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVMt9ECdOjA (this is time llapsed and is over very quickly) and http://lbx.cheddarvision.tv/ as far as I can tell this is real time television on the web. At the time of writing the cheese has spent 103 days and seven and a half hours maturing.

Ifyou're mad enough you could even find out about the cheese making going on over in Ambridge as Oliver and Helen try to come up with their own brand new cheese from the milk from Oliver's dairy herd.

It's all go isn't it!

DW