Veni, vidi, aesculus hippocastanumci

‘IT’S not just soldiers and scientists looking for Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Hans Blix displays shocking new find

The Times says that the hunt is very much on to find the right sort of conker for this year’s World Conker Championships on October 12th.

Not only are there too few conkers but what are around are too small and too soft. They are, to paraphrase the rail industry line, the wrong type of conkers.

Event organiser John Hardman is now stepping up his search. He needs at least 3,000 conkers, from which he will then select 1,500 prize specimens.

And this hunt has sparked a trade in the horse chestnut fruits. According to the paper, conkers are being offered for sale on the Internet at a rate of £4.50 for 15.

For more information go to www.snutkins.com, or visit a tree…’

Posted: 26th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Tongue Tide

‘TONGUE was on the menu at Clarence House last night as Jamie Oliver took his rag-tag bag of trainee chefs to cook for Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles.

Jamie accidentally flash fries his own tongue

The Telegraph has a lovely picture of Camilla talking to Jamie over a glass of wine.

She’s doubtless complimenting him on his tongue, and the generous portions thereof. Jamie is telling her its history, its life story.

Since all the food at the feast was totally organic, he’ll most probably be able to tell her what kind of life the radish in her appetiser had and if the raspberry on her meringue was despatched in a humane manner.

It’s the kind of getting-to-know-your-food conversation many of us commoners will soon be having with the contents of our fridge should Genetically Modified (GM) crops take hold.

You’d suppose that talking veg would be a hit with Prince Charles, who lists among his closest advisors Peter The Begonia and Camilla The Poison Ivy (one for you there, Your Majesty).

But he’s against it, as are 98% of us. As the Times says, only 2% of the 37,000 people who responded to a questionnaire about GM food said they’d eat the stuff.

Other key findings are that 95% of respondents are worried about the risk of contamination of non-GM cops; 93% say they do not know enough about the long-term health effects of the stuff; and 85% thought the so-called Frankenstein Foods would benefit the producers and not the public.

A further 81% were too busy tucking in to their glow-in-the-dark peas to answer.’

Posted: 25th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Two Plus Two

‘JOHN Prescott does nothing by halves. Rather he does them by multiples of two.

You can never have too much of a good thing

He has the famous two fingers, the beautiful and glamorous two Jags and has fathered two sons. He gives not two hoots for decorum, jabs with a swift one-two at egg-tossing farm workers and probably does a perfectly adept two-step as he goes for a number two.

But today we up the stakes a notch, and feature – as the Telegraph does – Prezza’s four homes.

The point of this article will come in a moment; for now, we ask you only to study the properties.

There is ‘Prescott’s Castle’, an eight-bedroom Gothic revival detached house in Hull’.

In London, he stays at a grace-and-favour apartment in Admiralty Arch, a sister residence to the Deputy PM’s official country retreat at Dorneywood, which stands in 2.14 acres of Buckinghamshire countryside.

And then there is the flat in south London, owned by the Rail, Maritime and Transport Union and rented out to Prezza for more than 30 years.

Given the nature of this Minister with Property Portfolio, it’s unlikely he spends much time in the place, which until recently has been occupied by his son David.

And so to the matter in hand, and the news that the RMT want their place back – and they’re prepared to go to court with the man who resigned his membership after a falling-out.

But there are two sides to every story, and we look forward to hearing Prezza’s reasons, as yet unstated, for wanting to maintain his grip on the flat.

But you can put two and two together and make of it what you will.’

Posted: 25th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

On Track

‘GREAT news for commuters. The Independent has been listening to Peter Field, the new rail director at Transport for London, and his hopes that within a decade over-crowding on London’s trains will be at “third world levels”.

The 9.15 to Mogadishu

It’s encouraging news for Londoners who have long hoped for such improvements.

But nothing happens overnight, and the full benefits will, as Mr Field says, not be felt before the decade is out.

And things will not stop there. Mr Field believes things can get even better and says that, with a £15bn spending programme, we can take our trains into the second world, and, who knows, perhaps even the first.

And this is good news for many of us, not just Londoners, since seven out of ten rail journeys begin or end in London.

Of the other three, two are outside Ipswich and one has stopped on the platform at Birmingham New Street

But to the bright and rosy future. The only problem is where to find that pesky £15bn.

There’s the private sector, but the fat cats will most likely want something back. Or there is the public, those customers the rail service carries to and fro.

Even that might not be enough, so it looks like it’s up to the buskers. Come on, guys, play up and play the game. And check down the back of the seats while you’re at it…’

Posted: 25th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Erasing Paedo-files

‘WHICH came first – the home computer or the paedophile? It’s the big philosophical question of our era.

Nine-year-old Kylie from Braintree goes shopping for a raincoat

Back in days of yore, your average run-off-the-mill pervert could be readily identified by his Macintosh raincoat, bag of sweets and blue Ford Anglia, with door ajar.

Now he calls himself Sarah, aged 13 from Staines. He’s got a hunched back from leaning into his monitor and a claw from gripping the mouse too tightly.

He is also, more likely than not, working in the police force or the entertainment industry.

In the Internet chatroom there is anonymity. But it’s about to end, as the Independent leads with the news that Microsoft, the big player in the computer game, is closing down its UK-based chatrooms.

It will also restrict access to chatrooms around the world, only allowing identifiable adults living in the same country to use them.

So our domestic depraved cannot talk to the little ‘uns in Vietnam and Thailand from the comfort of their own home.

Instead they will have to save up the money they would have spent on their phone bill and computer software and buy a plane ticket to Bangkok.

It seems Rachel O’Connell, director of the cyberspace research unit at the University of Central Lancashire, has a point when she tells the Guardian that the removal of chatrooms will ‘create a ripple effect and a far more complex set of problems’.

Like how to get the stain out of that raincoat that’s been hanging in the closet since 1995…’

Posted: 24th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Slap And Tickle

‘WITH paedophiles unplugged and safely returned to park benches and public toilets, the Independent turns its attention to other matters domestic and notes that one man in six is a victim of violence in the home.

‘It’s a boy. Get ‘im!’

Dame Elizabeth Butler-Sloss, the most senior female judge in England and Wales, told a group of legal types gathered at Downing Street yesterday that one in ten women think it is acceptable to hit their partner.

We have studied tapes of EastEnders and other fly-on-the-wall docu-soaps and can confirm the Dame’s findings. But why are men increasingly being targeted?

Earlier in the Independent there appears a story that could well be related to the Dame’s chilling find.

A clutch of research trials have discovered that four out of five births are now attended by the baby’s father.

Does the Dame’s violence include a quick dig in the head at the moment of delivery? Are the women’s screams and howls of utter pain part of the increasingly violent man-woman struggle?

The research, sadly, fails to address these pints, but we do learn from Professor Elaine Hodnett, of Toronto University, that women should leave their man outside and take a female friend into the delivery room.

As well as reducing the risk of domestic violence, evidence suggests that the presence of a trusted female mate raises the chance of a successful natural birth.

Just by being there, the man is adding to the chances that the woman who is pushing her nails into the bones of his hand and ripping aside the flesh will need a Caesarean.

And that he will need stitches and a vasectomy…’

Posted: 24th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Short Teather

‘WE are lowering our political standards. It’s an opinion illustrated by the Telegraph’s news that Sarah Teather, the newest and youngest member of the Commons at just 29 years of age, is barely 4ft 11in tall.

Proving that small isn’t always beautiful

Those who wanted to see the new MP for Brent East in the flesh descended on Brighton yesterday where she was giving her speech to the assembled Liberal Democrat believers.

To cries of ‘We love you, Sarah!’, ‘Stand up!’ and ‘Not in My Name’ (which is usually Nigel, Roger or Brian), the tyro took to the stand – and placed her nose close to party leader Charles Kennedy’s well-padded seat of power.

‘Charles came to the constituency so often we thought he might have to pay council tax,’ said she.

That was a joke. Of course he didn’t, since only local resident Ken Livingstone, weirdos and Tories pay council tax.

‘We won in Brent from third place with less than 11 per cent of the vote. I know if we can win there, we can win anywhere.’

Does anyone else feel a song coming on? Thankfully, no-one else did.

Instead, by way of celebration, the bearded mob stood up, waved their yellow Lib Dem sings and rubbed their facial hair in an interesting manner.

This is clearly a party with real swing, and interesting homemade cakes…’

Posted: 24th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Cleansing Soap

‘DO soap operas merely reflect the society they are designed to appeal to or are they meaningless parades of filth, violence and depravity?

The new Trevor McDonald

Of course, the answer could be yes to both parts of that opening question.

The human world is not such a wonderful place, especially when viewed through the lens of TV news cameraman.

The Telegraph has seen a study conducted by the Independent Television Commission, the BBC, the Broadcasting Standards Commission and the British Board of Film Classification and noted the finding that TV news is more frightening than soap operas.

Of course, this would depend on whether you get your news from Trevor McDonald or Al-Jazeera, and whether your soap du jour is Neighbours or EastEnders.

But to the report, and the news that young viewers are more likely to judge scenes as violent. We learn that some children aged nine to 13 even regard shouting as violence.

This is alarming, especially for the likes of Davina McCall, who, by this token, must be only marginally less dangerous than Osama bin Laden.

But having seen the problem, the BBC is seeking a cure.

Stephen Whittle, the broadcaster’s controller of editorial policy, says work is being done on producing a warning that will flash up on screen if viewers switch to programmes containing violence.

Swear words, shouting and the splinter of breaking limbs will be disguised by the sound of Tony Blair talking about his holiday in the Caribbean for 45 minutes.

Meanwhile, violent scenes will be hidden behind an image of Saddam Hussein, on whom all the frightening acts will be blamed…’

Posted: 23rd, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

I Swear To Tell The Truth

‘THE swear box at Number 10 might not be bulging at the seams, providing enough cash to plug gaps in Gordon Brown’s spending policies, but it does contain at least one coin.

‘It’s everything about him – his bald head, his puppy dog eyes…’

The Independent has seen the entry of July 4 2003 in Alistair Campbell’s diary and noted a use of the word ‘fuck’.

The word, a hangover from Campbell’s time spent as writer for the erotic publication Forum, appears in a statement about the BBC journalist Andrew Gilligan.

To give context to the profanity, the line suggests identifying Kelly as the Beeb’s source would ‘fuck’ Gilligan, who had broken the story about the Government’s misleading dossier.

For ‘sexed up’ we now read ‘fucked up’, a comment that might be pertinent to Gilligan’s career but one that seems especially relevant when discussing the Government’s credibility, given that the 45-minute warning was less than straightforward.

But the case of Dr Kelly is not all about one man – and that’s Campbell, not the dead scientist – but involves many figures.

And the Telegraph spots a man who is most likely thinking the word that Campbell writes so freely. He’s Geoff Hoon, and his political ambitions are getting a good seeing to.

Yesterday, the Defence Secretary was required to offer some more defence at his second appearance at the Hutton Inquiry.

In his encore, Hoon admitted to ‘approving the strategy to confirm Dr Kelly’s name’ to reporters without first speaking with Kelly.

The paper also hears him explain his reasons for not seeking our the same journalists and correcting their reports that Saddam Hussein’s Iraq could prime and launch weapons of mass destruction in 45 minutes.

‘I have spent many years trying to persuade newspapers and journalists to correct their stories,’ says Hoon. ‘It is an extraordinary time-consuming and frustrating process.’

Much simpler just to let Campbell write the stories in the first place…’

Posted: 23rd, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment (1)

Class Consciousness

‘THE middle class scramble to get Jack and Isabel into that top-ranking school is changing direction.

The day books first arrived at Bogside Comprehensive

Mum and Dad are now repointing the family’s executive people carrier towards Bogside Comprehensive, where even modest exam results should secure those desired places at a top university.

That’s the likely fallout from the Times’ news that a student’s background and school could be taken into consideration when university places are handed out.

The report by an education taskforce suggests the following: ‘Class rank means that if two students had the same grades, the grades of the student who ranked first in his or her school would be ‘worth more’ than those of the student who ranked last in his or her cohort.’ Discuss.

In other words, coming top of a class in a failing school would trump the efforts of the student who scored the same grades but came lower down the order at his or her establishment.

And already you can see the benefits. Since the country’s worst schools – soon to be the best schools – are more often than not in less salubrious regions, Veronica and Pete will soon be looking for new property in areas of acute depravation that fall within the school’s catchment area.

So much the better if there is high quota of non-speaking refugees, a facet that should enable little Joshua to come top of the pile in his English A-level.

And mean that mum and dad will have a ready excuse for not talking to the other parents.

So look out for property booms in Byker, Kirby and Sandwell, or North Hampstead, Richmond-on-Mersey and New Cheltenham as they are now referred to round the dinner table…’

Posted: 23rd, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Going Bananas

‘ILLEGAL immigrants are on David Blunkett’s mind. The baking hot weather and now the Telegraph’s story that bananas are growing in south–east London are signs that Britain is changing under their nefarious influence.

One in the eye for the cheats

Having made the weather hotter and caused tropical fruits to grow in Margaret O’Callaghan’s garden in Bickley, near Bromley – surely, all part of some dastardly plot to recreate a home from home – the illegals are about to be reined in.

But first the Home Secretary must discover how many illegal immigrants are performing their godless Sun Dance in our land. Problem is, as the Independent says, he doesn’t have a clue. “I haven’t a clue,” says he.

What with their many tribal sub-groups – “bogus asylum seekers”, “economic migrants” and those “illegal immigrants” – keeping a record of their exact numbers is proving tricky.

But the new scheme being talked about in Government circles is for all immigrants seeking residency in the United Kingdom to carry identity cards.

These badges of entry could even include an impression of the holder’s iris.

This all sounds very hi-tech and impressive. But when they offer up their heads for iris checking, why don’t we just brand them between the eyes instead?’

Posted: 22nd, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Wrist Action

‘IF the finger power of children playing video games right now were harnessed, it would produce enough energy to heat and light the entire African continent for a year.

Scientists found that Gavin ran all the way to school every day

That’s the kind of fact we are proud to bring you. And if it were true we could sell our research to the Times and see our story appear on the paper’s education news section.

“Playstation Power” would sit just below the tale of how a company which provides private education to children in the Middle East is planning to set up in Britain.

While we marvel at the school’s immense sand pits, the paper then tells us that children get more physical benefits out of walking to school than they do from PE lessons.

Boffins at University College London have found that walking to and from school five times a week burns more calories than two hours of PE over the same period.

How these figures were bought about remains something of a contentious issue.

1) How did the scientists find a child who walks to school? 2) How did they find a child who attends classes for the full five days a week? 3) Miss, what’s PE?

The brains further cloud the issue by saying how they fitted 149 children with motion sensors on their wrists to calculate the amount of energy they were using.

Knowing teenagers as we do, and all their revolting depraved habits, we note that “the advantage of walking over PE was clearest among teenage boys“.

Although nine out ten seemed to be walking rapidly in small, tight circles…’

Posted: 22nd, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Later Ron

‘“DEAR Maggie…”

‘Who are you and why am I here?’

It’s sounds like the opening line to a Bob Dylan song. But more likely those two words were what Ronald Regan wrote so many times.

How deep Ronald Reagan’s special relationship with Margaret Thatcher went, and perhaps still goes in his more lucid moments, we might never know.

Instead, as the Guardian reports, we have to make do with the 5,000 pieces of correspondence the former President of the US of A wrote, and which now make up the book Reagan: A Life In Letters.

Those who lived through the 1980s, when Ronnie “Rayguns” was the most powerful man on earth, may wonder what letter starts this weighty tome.

Is it a Sesame Street-style “Letter G” or a punchier missive to a dry cleaning firm?

As we’ve not read the book we’ll just see what the Guardian picks out.

And we note: “Even in marriage I’ve had a little guilty feeling about sex, as if the whole thing was tinged with evil,” he wrote to a friend.

He writes in another letter how his Star Wars programme was met with disdain by the then Soviet premier Mikhail Gorbachev.

“I did tell Gorbachev that if and when we had such system they would join us in eliminating nuclear missiles; we’d share such a defence with them. I don’t think he believed me.”

We can’t believe that semi-colon! Anyone who thought Reagan was an airhead can thing again. This man had style. And a pen.’

Posted: 22nd, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Lowering the Tone

‘WE INTERRUPT this message for an important message. Our great and super leader Tony has made the following announcement, reported in the pages of the Independent, under the headline: “Blair: I will abandon presidential leadership”.

Blair will never be President so long as Bush is in charge

Tony called a meeting of his “cabinet” – a loose grouping of followers whom he occasionally convenes in order to inform them of his latest edicts. Yesterday, they were thrilled to hear that the Leader’s new idea is to abandon his “top down” style, in favour of, er… something super that will be worked out at a later date.

“We will be more open to change when it is right to change,” commented a minister afterwards.

How sad that this exciting news was delivered to late to sink into the consciousness of the electorate of Brent East, who shamefully abandoned Tony’s earthly representative in yesterday’s by-election.

The Lib-Dems won, but the immaculately turned-out Anorak candidate managed to push the rather scruffy Tory into fourth. May we take this opportunity to thank all those who voted for us, and remind them that the special offer on our autumn leisurewear range still holds good.’

Posted: 19th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Too Much Of A Good Thing

‘“WE are now eating 28 million eggs a day,” says Mark Williams, the chief executive of the excitingly-named British Egg Industry Council. “It’s phenomenal, I have never known it like this.”

‘My son was in that film’

Phenomenal indeed. And this raises many questions. How many people are employed by the British Egg Industry Council? A hundred? A thousand?

Even if it employs 10,000 people, that would still be some achievement. By our reckoning, that would mean that each employee is eating 2,800 eggs every day.

Anyone who has seen the film Cool Hand Luke will never forget the sight of Paul Newman’s grotesquely distended belly – and that was after consuming just a few dozen.

Whatever the exact figures, the Council’s heroic stupidity is having consequences far beyond the bowels and bathrooms of Egg House.

Apparently, there is now a national egg shortage, and the Times reports that this is pushing up the price by around 20 pence a dozen. “There could even be fewer Christmas cakes on sale because makers are unable to buy enough eggs,’ warns the paper.

Consumer Editor Valerie Eliot says that the Atkins diet is to blame for the shortage, but she’s not fooling anyone.’

Posted: 19th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Stamp Of Greatness

‘ONCE upon a time, not so long ago, the royal family was happy to hob-nob with fascist dictators. Leading figures could be found taking tea with Der Führer, or sharing a latte with Il Duce. Didn’t do them any harm, did it?

‘I thought the Germans were on OUR side?’

But for some reason, people are a bit touchy about this sort of thing nowadays. So the Royal Mail has taken umbrage at plans by the far-right Northern League in Italy to sell British stamps bearing the face of its leader next to the Queen’s head.

A spokesman for the Royal Mail told the Times that the rules of the service prohibit “lewd” or political images being used on stamps.

The message does not seem to have made much impression on the Italian press. “Great Britain dedicates a stamp to Bossi,” says Il Giornale, referring to Umberto Bossi, the League’s leader.

It added that the stamps will become collectors’ items, and had been greeted with “mystical ecstasy” by the party’s bigwigs.

This sort of thing is typical of politicians, whose heads are always swelled by these meaningless gestures. As our resident punster warns them, philately will get you nowhere.’

Posted: 19th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Battle Dress

‘WE OFFER the following Daily Telegraph headline without comment: “When Sgt Major Joe said he wanted to be Joanne his men had only one response – to go on parade in drag”.

All the lads loved Mess Sergeant Barrett’s mince

Did we say without comment? Well, strike that. Something must be said. In what way precisely is this story in any way surprising or unusual?

The facts are simple. Sgt Major Joe Rushton became Warrant Officer Joanne Wingate, whereapon her colleagues all turned up in drag. This has upset Joanne, who is now seeking redress at a tribunal.

This raises the question of why Joanne believed the mass-drag act to be anything to do with her. After all, it is a well known fact that soldiers and sailors spend all their spare time dressing up in drag – often on the pretext of doing it “for charity”. So there is probably a perfectly innocent explanation for this particular outbreak of cross-dressing.

Furthermore, there is no reason why these fellow troopers –

or possibly “troupers” – would have seen Joanne as in any way unusual. To put it another way, when was the last time you heard of a transsexual who was NOT a former army officer? Exactly.

“The army found it very difficult to deal with the issue of transsexuality,” says Joanne. Hardly surprising really, given the heavy toll it has taken on its ranks over the years.’

Posted: 18th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Fairydown Under

‘WHERE do you suppose the average outdoorsy army cross-dresser buys his outfits? Not from Anorak’s mail order service, that’s for sure. Our rugged gear wouldn’t suit those types at all.

Zone’s new range of boob tubes and hot pants

Perhaps they shop at Fairydown, the outdoor clothing company that dressed Sir Edmund Hilary on his Everest expedition.

If so, they should be warned that if they ever find themselves in Australia, they should ask for “Zone” instead – for that is the name under which the company now trades in that great land.

The Independent reports that Australian men thought that the name Fairydown had uncomfortable connotations because of the “fairy” bit. Clearly nobody has told them that “Zone” sounds like a gay nightclub.

Hugo Venter, the managing director of the company that makes Fairydown clothing, thinks that Aussie men are being “ridiculous”.

Nonsense. If Australian men, who choose to wear boob tubes and hot pants while playing their “Aussie rules”, have decided that “Fairydown” is an insufficiently macho moniker for their red-blooded threads, then who are we to disagree?’

Posted: 18th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Cell By Date

‘CRIME doesn’t pay. Just ask Alan Hunt, who found himself clapped in irons after overstepping the boundaries of legality while taking part in an identity parade.

Police deny any bias against brown, black or other coloured breads

Hunt, 36, is a resting actor, but his role that fateful day was to play the role of the errant fool.

While waiting at the police station in Bournemouth, he took a cheese sandwich from a shelf and shared it with fellow line-up members.

Unfortunately, the sandwich belonged to PC Chris Biggs, who quite rightly dismissed the hapless thespian’s offer of a compensatory baguette, and promptly arrested him.

Hunt’s £10 fee was withheld and he spent more than eight hours in a cell.

He was then brought before the beak and accused of stealing the lunchbox, which also contained a nectarine, an apple and a small cake.

Justice took its course, and Hunt was ordered to pay £25 towards the prosecution costs, leaving him somewhat disgruntled. “I’m a 16-stone bloke and I’d had no breakfast and no lunch and I was starving,” he said.

Never mind. If he carries on losing weight at this rate, he’ll soon be able to squeeze into one of those slinky little black numbers that are so popular with our beefy fighting men.’

Posted: 18th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

You Can’t Get The Staff

‘ANOTHER day, another case of alleged bullying. This time it concerns Dr Edward Haughey, who lives at Corby Castle, and is described by the Telegraph as “one of Britain’s richest men”.

The master loved the feel of a hot iron on his pants

His housekeeper Linda Heaton says that he reduced her to tears over a missing gold menu holder, pulled her up over plans to use silver salvers for the meat course, and became “very stroppy” about her choice of vegetable bowls.

He is also said to have shouted (“at the top of is voice”) at the fish man. (That’s a man who sells fish, not a piscine-human hybrid summoned up in a feverish opium dream.)

Anyway, Mrs Heaton is very upset, and cried at yesterday’s employment tribunal. The paper reports that Haughey generally “raged” about standards of cleaning at the castle, and “interrogated a cleaner over how often she laundered his underpants”.

This last detail intrigues us. Was he complaining that his smalls were laundered too rarely or – awful thought, but it is our duty to face it – too often? We can only speculate privately, and we invite readers to do likewise.

Two years ago, Dr Heaton donated £1 million to the Conservative Party. This may or may not be significant.’

Posted: 17th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Unhappy Meal

‘WE love babies, but we couldn’t eat a whole one. That’s a funny old joke isn’t it?

Anorak’s range of meat-free breasts are just like the real thing

But don’t say things like that at the Rendezvous restaurant in Aberystwyth. It’s vegetarian, you see, so they don’t approve of eating flesh.

Then again, they don’t seem to be too keen on babies either. The management asked one mother to leave after she tried to feed her baby, and described the woman’s actions as “offensive”, says the Telegraph.

Hear, hear – we at Anorak are always in favour of banning babies from restaurants, but it seems that in this case it was not the feeding itself that caused offence, but the substance that the baby was given. And what was it? A jar of chicken baby food.

The mother, Sarah Graham, is astonished. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life,” she says. “It was not as if I had brought in a whole roast chicken and started carving.”

This is a difficult one. We sympathise with the baby ban, but then Mrs Graham has a point too. In the end, we have decided to endorse the ban, on the grounds that Mrs Graham’s baby is called Joshua.’

Posted: 17th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Worth Every Penny

‘ACCORDING to the broadsheet newspapers, their readers spend most of their spare time holding dinner parties at which the guests talk of nothing but house prices and school fees.

‘Anorak College made me what I am today’ – T. Blair

So you can imagine the excitement over at the Times by its big story about price-fixing among the country’s top public schools.

Now it follows up its initial bombshell with the good news that Gordonstoun has “thrown down the gauntlet” in the new “public school price war”.

Now, the term “price war” normally brings to mind phrases such as “PRICES SLASHED!” and “LOWEST-EVER PRICES!”. But the gauntlet thrown down by the Prince of Wales’ alma mater is slightly different. It is actually offering the “lowest fees rise” – its prices will rise by a mere 2 per cent next year.

The paper reports that this news is unlikely to be welcomed by other establishments, which are already under fire for big rises.

We are therefore delighted to draw our readers’ attention to an option they may previously have overlooked. Anorak College is holding its entry exams for next year’s intake, and a modest sum is usually sufficient to guarantee a sympathetic marking policy.

Fees are exceptionally competitive, and the usual Anorak policy applies: send two sons to our establishment, and the third will be educated gratis. (That’s Latin for “no charge”, as any classically-trained Old Anorakian will tell you.)’

Posted: 17th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

TV Hell

‘BULLYING may be on the way out in the police and the armed forces, where teddy bears and big huggy cards with lovely rhymes are compulsory for new recruits. But in the harsh world of regional TV news, it’s a different story. The Times reports that Laurie Mayer has told an employment tribunal that he became a marked man after protecting a colleague from a trio of bullying managers at the BBC’s Kent studios in Tunbridge Wells.

Staff were “frequently reduced to tears or made physically ill” – symptoms familiar to viewers of local news programmes, but previously unheard of among those who produce them.

The BBC says that Mayer was pompous, lugubrious and overbearing, and that his style of presentation had resulted in poor viewing figures.

But these qualities don’t appear to have hampered the careers of other BBC news presenters, and we reckon his claim of unfair dismissal is an absolute stonewaller.’

Posted: 16th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Sleep Of The Just

‘HAVE you ever wondered what your sleeping position reveals about your personality? No, neither have we. But some people have got nothing better to do with their time than researching this sort of thing.

‘Offside!’

Professor Chris Idzikowski is, the Telegraph informs us, “Britain’s leading sleep expert”. And he reckons that he can tell a lot about a person from whether they sleep in the foetal position, or any of the other options he has identified, such as The Yearner (suspicious, with a rational approach to life), The Soldier (quiet, loathes noisy social scenes) etc, etc.

Space prevents us from running through the full list, but we were particularly interested in The Adams (flat on back in pool of urine) and The Hitler (right palm held aloft) both of which indicate strong leadership qualities coupled with complex personal issues.

Most pleasing of all is The Anorak (arms folded, legs crossed, pipe in mouth).

This indicates reliability, common sense and an ability to watch golf on television for hours at a time, untroubled by doubts about his sexuality and happily oblivious to events in other, less agreeable parts of the world.’

Posted: 16th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment

Cutting Edge

‘THEY say that every cloud has a silver lining, and they may just be right.

If we promise no more war, will you keep your knickers on?

In protest at the political climate following 9/11, Yoko Ono recreated her 1964 striptease performance-art show Cut Piece in Paris last night.

The Guardian reports that more than 200 people queued to chop away at her clothes, taking turns to snip small pieces with a pair of scissors. The idea was that the pieces would then be sent to loved ones.

But the mood of the times is not what it was in the Sixties, and the audience couldn’t bring themselves to go the whole hog, leaving what the paper describes as “a modest display of matching underwear”.

But her experience is not unique. “These occasions don’t always end in nakedness,” explained a retired American schoolteacher. “When I performed it with a small group of students they left a lot of my clothes on.”

We here at Anorak can confirm this. Our only attempt at recreating the piece had to be stopped when even mechanical saws could make no impression upon our splendidly robust ComfiSlax economy trousers (£6.99 a pair or three for £20 from the usual address).’

Posted: 16th, September 2003 | In: Broadsheets | Comment