The all singing, all dancing blog of Alex Guite

Monday, November 21, 2005

Simpson Comments

I was privelged to receive the following comment by e-mail from the famous Simon Simpson which I think also doubles as a public service announcement:

Hi Alex,
Out of boredom and a desperate desire to procrastinate, I wandered on to you blog. Having scanned though a few of your postings I felt like commenting on one of them, only to discover that only people with a blog account on can comment. How, stupid is that... Now obviously if you don't want people commenting that's fine, but then I fail to see the point of anyone being able to read what you have to say.
Any way I won't let that stop me.
In reference to your post on 29 Oct.
Finding your funny bone isn't too challenging. Simply bend your arm, and feel you elbow. You should notice that in addition to the main point at the end of the elbow there is also a smaller extrusion on the side pointing away from you. The ulna nerve which as I'm sure you know is responsible for the curious sensation, can be found at the end of the humerus, the medical term for the funnybone. This is rather an ironic name since most people don't find it very funny to strike thier funny bone. More precisely the ulna nerve is runs in the channel that is formed by the two aforementioned extrusions on you elbow. So in order to strike your funny bone simple bend you elbow and knock it gently into something like the edge of a table such that the edge contacts with the nerve. Although it is certainly an interesting sensation to experience I'm not sure I'd recommend doing it deliberately, as this nerve carries some of the signals for motor control and sensations for your lower arm and hands. The consequences of damage to this nerve are therefore not to be taken lightly.

The moral of this story is this: get a account.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Breaking News: Evans Shuns Guite Over Hair

Cardiff- In a statement this evening Evans announced draconian action against Guite in a scathing indictment of the recent hair cutting controversy.

The brief statement made by short message service at approximately 20:30 Wednesday, outlined Evans' grievance: "dude, you cut your hair".

Evans continued his statement to disclose the details of the punitive measures he plans to enact against Guite. In a direct address to Guite he explained "you are no longer welcome in my house".

The statement is the first formal reaction to Thursday's hair cutting event, in which over 6 months of hair growth was cut short.

Guite was unavailable for comment at time of press.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Dude, where's my hair?

Hair cutting industry analysts will probably already be aware of what happened on Thursday: over six glorious months of unrestrained hair growth were bought to an end when I had my hair cut.
I know I'd been planning to let it grow until Christmas so I could have another shot at getting a ginger afro (or a g-fro as I like to call it), but it was all just getting too much (especially drying my hair after a shower).
The biggest changes thus far: my ears are cold and my bike helmet needed in depth readjustment to fit tightly onto my head.

Last Wednesday, finally managed to get over to cheapskates at the Moonlighting Club. It was as good as the rumours suggested, although they were abit stingy with their mixers. I also managed the impressive feat of setting a meeting point in a pub, only to wait in a pub around the corner wondering where everyone was. The pub I'd suggested we meet in perhaps?

In other news, I've just realised that I haven't yet linked to, a site which I have found to be fairly educational.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Angry music: leads to bad programming habits

Had a fairly busy time last week: mostly working on my computational physics project until 16:50 on Friday (deadline Friday at 17:00). For some reason Pete and I decided that the best way to rest after getting about 4 hours sleep between us on Thursday night was to go to Kings Union. I think Martin might have had something to do with it by suggesting the idea to us. Anyway, it was awesome. Thank you Red Bull.

I managed to catch Battersea Park Fireworks last night from Battersea Bridge after coming back from Jazz Aid at Imperial. The Big Band played some new stuff and although playing in the Great Hall was more formal than in the Union it was quality stuff.

I had an article in Felix this week in response to a column the week before. Neither of the articles are online as the website hasn't been updated since the start of term. Absolute disgrace. Mine is pasted below. Enjoy.

There are worst things than missing Neighbourghs

‘Foreigners should be sent back to their own countries for their own governments to deal with them as they fit’ urged Iain Heaton on these pages last week as he took a break from his characteristic whinge that he had not been able to watch Neighbours since graduating. His column started innocently and inanely enough by offering us his candid opinions on the latest Darkness album, before taking an inexplicable right turn into a full on collision with the rights of asylum seekers.

Heaton highlighted the case of two Albanians and a Lithuanian convicted of trafficking Eastern European girls into Britain and forcing them to work as prostitutes. Expressing more outrage that previously two of the men had been granted asylum from persecution than at the crime itself, he went on to outline his solution to crime in Britain: deport all asylum seekers who have committed a crime.

Never mind that only a tiny fraction of crime is committed by asylum seekers, a fact that even Heaton grudgingly admitted later in his column, his remedy is dangerous and prejudiced. The right to asylum from torture, unjust imprisonment and execution is an inalienable human right common to all people. It should never just be abused in a crass attempt to fill up column inches. As with every other nation, we have an international responsibility to welcome asylum seekers, not greet them with Heaton’s contempt. The choice they had to make was between staying in their own country, facing persecution and possibly even death, or leaving everything they had to seek asylum.

Disturbingly, Heaton swapped loosely between writing about asylum seekers, immigrants and foreigners as if the terms were interchangeable. The reality is that they refer to very different things: there is a huge difference between the political activist seeking asylum from persecution and someone seeking to immigrate for economic reasons. Whether Heaton would deport ‘foreign’ tourists he didn’t make clear.

When Heaton argued that asylum seekers should be sent back to their own governments to be dealt with as they see fit he conveniently glossed over any consequences. In countries from which asylum has been granted, being dealt with as the ‘government sees fit’ means being sent back to torture, persecution, unexplained disappearances and death.

Glibly repeating that old calling card of hysterical journalism, that Britain is somehow ‘at bursting point’ unable to accept anymore asylum seekers, Heaton demonstrated a remarkably loose grip on facts. In Britain we take fewer asylum seekers per head of population than our European neighbours; and although we cannot hope to welcome unlimited numbers, the reality is that we are not being swamped or inundated. In truth it is developing countries, close to the world’s flashpoints, which host the greatest share of asylum seekers; 8 million alone in Africa with uncounted numbers internally displaced.

Asylum seekers do not come to Britain out of choice, indeed many desperately want to be repatriated to their country as soon as it is safe to do so. South Africans and Chileans who fled to Britain during the 1970s left to return home as soon as they were able, more recently Iraqis and Zimbabweans have been heading back to their countries.

For Heaton a bad day might be missing Neighbours, but Iain out there around the world things can be a lot worse than not getting your daily fix of the classic Australian soap.