Firearms and firey legs: A Camping Tale of the Unexpected

At the weekend 15 of us went camping on a farmers field. The facilities consisted of a toilet block which was 200 yards down the road and that was it. I didn't discover that toilet block until Saturday.

It was our first chance to use our new tent outside of our garden - see picture above in which I have included a 2pence coin to show how big it is. Unfortunately it was an enourmous 2p coin and I also have a very big thumb. I thought the other two families were camping experts that we could learn from, but it turned out we were all quite new to it - especially to the type of camping with so little facilities.

Soon after we arrived, at about 7pm on Friday night, I set off back out in the car to find water. The sign at the gate of the field said pay at the farm and there was an arrow to the left. I drove down the road and a very short distance there was a sign for a farm and I turned onto a very bumpy track that nearly wrecked my car. I passed one house that was for sale, it didn't look very farm like, and then another that looked too posh to be a farm and then the track got even more bumpy. I wondered if I might get stuck but was feeling a bit gung ho so I ventured on.

Finally I arrived at a ramshackled set of buildings that were definately a farm, there was a dog barking its head off but otherwise the place was eerily deserted. I walked around the fenced garden of the farmhouse, trying to calm the dog as I went and walked up the mud track a little further. I heard a snuffle in a delapidated barn and turned to see a single pig lying in the dark. I thought maybe the farmer was out and I would look round for some water but I couldn't find any so I headed back to my car - with the dog barking all the while.

Just before I reached my car I heard the creak of a door behind me and swung round to see a woman with matted grey wild looking hair and a shotgun under her arm. "Whatchoo waant?" she barked like her dog. "I just came for some water" I said slightly raising my hands (I had learned what to do from the movies!). "I thought we were camping in your field" I added.

"Caamping? Pergh!" she said - "You should be back there" she pointed with a gnarled finger "go to 'da howse at de end of me drive on the left".

"yes - sorry" I said, well it is hard to remember what I said, as I was very scared. As I drove away I slightly ducked my head down as if my headrest would stop the shot from the gun (I also learned this from the movies).

The house I should have gone to was the one that I thought had looked too 'posh' before. I pulled into the drive and tentatively called out hello - there were dogs barking at each other here too. I saw someone up on a balcony or roof terrace area of a property that was opposite the main house and I said "Hello, I think we're camping on your field?" "No, I wish" said the guy in shorts - "we're just renting this place from them and they've gone to the pub". I explained that I wanted some water and the guy replied that the farmer had said there was an outside tap down where I was standing. I found the tap, filled the two water containers and headed back to the field.

Despite the lack of facilities and the life threatening neighbours, I still had a good time. The best thing was the fantastic views of the Derbyshire Peaks from the high vantage points. We went climbing up high and ate wild blueberries while the children played on the rock formations, which made them look just like baboons you might see in a safari park.

There was a downside, I did feel an underlying bed of tension that I would imagine happens in the Big Brother house. Mainly was absoutely my own problem, because I was worried about what other people were thinking about how much I was helping out or the lack of facilities. I think I spent 20% of the time I was awake washing up though, so some contribution there, but I was always worried that I was making myself cups of tea without offering everyone else. No big deal, but I think I measure myself by being able to make tea for other people.

One advantage of not having lots of facilities on the camp site was that we were able to have a real fire. Although all the signs said no fires, barbeques only. The signs actually said BBQs in drippy paint and they were placed everywhere you might go to collect wood, if you were prepared to brave what must've also been the natural emergency toilet areas. But we had approval from the farmer to have a real fire, as long as it was raised off the ground in a fire pit, which we had.

On saturday night, everyone was quite tired and went to bed fairly early but I stayed up to watch the fire and make my selfish teas. Earlier in the evening the grass under the firepit has ignited and I'd had to stamp it out in a hurry, burning my leg in the process. I felt a bit like this event had worried one of our number as they slept in their tent, near to my fire, and I think they might have sent their husband out to make sure I was going to put it out.

Anyway I had a lovely chat with this fellow who I think might have been sent out to check on me, somehow we got onto wondering how man or his ancestors discovered fire as we watched.

In the absense of the internet I started proposing my own theories. I say without internet but if the battery on an iPhone was any better than useless I could have enjoyed the glorious 3G light that the farmers field was unexpectedly bathed in.

Fire had obviously existed naturally and probably been something to be feared my mans ancestor to start with. It might have occured from lightening storms, forest fires or (most controllable) areas where lava was close to the surface.

My first theory was that it was an accidental thing - some cave men types would probably have discovered a crispy deer in an area where there'd been a forest fire and thought "Ug this is goood stuff" - "Ug I need that red fire." "Ug - I'm tired of monkeying around."

[About that Jungle Book song - Louis the Orang Utang is obviously an ape rather than a monkey and to sing 'I'm tired of monkeying around' would be at best inappropriate and at worst downright racist and inciteful to his kind.=

Then I thought it was unlikely that man chose to harness the power of fire just to cook food. Surely they had it for warmth and protection from the animals who remained fearful of fire, and the discovery of cooking food came from someone carrying food tripping and dropping the food in the fire. Then all the others said

"Ugg DAVE! Ug I can't believe you dropped all the flesh in the red burny"
and then they beat Dave with a club and pushed him in the fire - later good flesh and crispy Dave was enjoyed by all. Later after much fun and dancing, much goo was spashed up the wall. (callback to a previous post Sperm Wars).

As we mused about how fire was discovered I suddenly realised there was someone standing behind me - "harvin' a good toim?" It was the Farmer. We chatted for a while about what we'd been up to and paid the farmer for our stay (very reasonable £2 per person per night).

It transpired that the house I had gone to for the water wasn't his farm at all - he was further down the main road. I explained where I got the water from, "the new looking brick house down that track" you could see the beginning of the track from where we were.

"Oh yes, the one at the end" said the farmer "Well no - not quite at the end" I said "the track keeps going after that house and there's another farm there".

"Oh yes" he said and then he paused, I could here him breathing through his nose.
"Well there used to be, but noone's liven there since crazy ol' Dorothy Frederick died"

Now I don't know if the farmer didn't know that someone was living there now, or if I'd seen Dorothy on Friday night but I wasn't going back to find out.

I did a little dance in front of the fire that night. In the style of Tales of the Unexpected.

Freshly Pressed Jeans at the RHS Tatton Show

Today my wife and I went to the RHS Tatton Show and had such a great day.

In the morning I was very nervous about what to wear because I thought it was probably a bit posh - The RHS the Royal Hoitytoity Society perhaps?

But then I put my mind at rest, telling myself that it's about flowers and gardens so there would probably be some rustic gardener types there, so I wouldn't stand out as an oik. But then I overheard my wife telling a friend on the phone that there was some kind of dress code "Freshly Pressed Jeans and Wellies!" so the pressure was back on, and so was the iron.


Eventually I thought I'd do and we set off to crawl through the traffic that was already building up on the way to the show. We drove through the incredible Tatton park with it's magnificent views of rolling green fields, woods and lakes; sheep and deer and arrived at the show.

I was constantly checking out what people was wearing in case I was too scruffy and, although many people were in their English Sunday best, there were enough people dressed similar to me to stop me worrying.

SILVER GUILT
When we got through the gates we found a tent where there were flower design displays, one of the main reasons we'd come was to see flower designy things. There were about ten large display stands and I noticed there were awards on them Gold, Silver - I didn't see any Bronze but we were walking past a display with a 'Silver Gilt' award and I thought maybe Bronze was too distasteful so they used 'Silver Gilt'. I remarked to my wife "What's silver gilt then, worse than silver?" At which point a woman spun round and barked "no it's BETTER than silver, Better." This woman, who was obviously connected to the display, calmed herself and proceeded to tell me that silver gilt was 'very nearly gold' and that it would have been a gold award if only they'd send them the right colour carpet for the stand. I could tell this was very serious business so I duly complemented her on the work and moved on as soon as politely possible.

One of the stalls (Verdure Floral Design) had a very impressive set of designs inspired by the work of famous artists. Pictured above are two of them: The yellow one in the background is inspired by Banksy and the one in the foreground that looks like a close up of Kermit's anus is imspired by Barbara Hepworth.

From a quick trip to the portaloos at which I learned that posh people still piss on the floor and flower people's toilets DO NOT smell of flowers - we moved on for a look round.

NODDY AT THE FAIR
The atomosphere was really good, there was a band playing in a Pavillion with a man doing super speedy trombone playing to the William Tell overture. The announcements coming from the main PA system were done in such a old England, 'Cricket on the village green' kind of voice that it reminded me of a record I had as a child, in which Noddy had a sports day and the announcer commented in a similar voice "and Bigears has dropped the egg in the egg and spoon race..." I love it when sounds and smells transport you back in time like that.

I had a check round for how freshly pressed other people's jeans were.

We had a look round and found...

The German Tourist Board (random).








A lawn lower stall manned by the Jeremy Clarkson's of the gardening world.









A plant called Laurus Nobilis (hee hee - Deedpole purileus)
COFFEE STALL CHAOS
I could smell coffee coming from the stalls and I had to get some while my wife went on to find the British Floristry Association tent.

I joined the queue at a coffee stall. The stall had three window sections each headed with a different sign saying what the stall sold. One to the left said 'SOFT DRINKS' the centre section had 'SANDWICHES AND CAKES' and the one on the right said 'COFFEE AND TEA'.

This is important to describe, because there was chaos at this stall as it was very busy and the polite English clientele had decided between them that there should be three queues, one for each window. I joined the middle queue. After a while a rumour jumped from queue to queue that you had to join the queue with the sign that said what you wanted to buy, and 'how ridiculous' this was and 'what if I want a drink and a sandwich?' exasperated comments went round but nobody spoke up to ask what we should be doing.

I craned my neck to see the front and realised the middle queue, which by now I'd nearly got to the front of, had no cashier at it and then I heard the guy behind the counter say 'there's actually only two queues' (of course he meant 'there's only supposed to be two queues - there was in fact still three).

Word went round again and we split into two queues - I worked out that (as I had suspected) the signs were just general advertisements of what the stall sold and not instructions about where to queue for what goods as the earlier rumour had suggested. This hadn't been realised by some other customers, who were still grumbling and joining one queue while sending their friends to the other queue - to ensure they had all the food and drink types covered.

Luckily this chaos, that on any other day might have quite stressed me out, was delighting and entertaining me, as I watched people trying to fathom out the system and all the while being so polite and gracious to each other.

HELLO MUM I'M AT THE FLOWER SHOW!
Coffee and cakes secured, I went on to find my wife in the very professionally organised marquee run by the British Floristry Association. This housed the "prestigious" Eurofleurs competition, in which young florists from across Europe compete.
There was a big stage with a cat walk coming out of it with a QVC infomercial-style floristry demonstration going on. I was genuinely impressed with the production and presentation skills of the 'anchorman' - who was like Dale Winton and his roving reporter (only roving as far as the other end of the Marquee to report on the eurofleurs entries), who was like a slightly camp Gene Wilder and kept talking about magnificent pionieses (sounds like penis but are flowers).

The TV show cut from the main demonstration on the big stage with the (as yet unused) catwalk, to the roving reporter who was talking us through two countries at a time from the Eurofleurs competition. The camera pictures were being beamed onto giant screens at the sides of the main 'catwalk' stage.
When the demonstrations had finished, bizarrely some scantily-clad dancing girls came out and started prancing around to music (pictured). I couldn't really make the connection with flowers but I suppose it was just entertainment to get people into the tent, or something for the men?

Later, I managed to walk behind some of Europe's up-and-coming florists being interviewed on the camera and give a little wave for the seated crowd's benefit and to embarrass my wife (after all, she had dared me into it, by calling my bluff when I suggested I would go and wave at her on the big screen).

GOLLY FLOWERS
Later we went to see the prize fruit and vegetables. I knew this was taken particularly seriously by gardeners. I learned how to make carrots go even more orange and happened upon what was described as the "Most Meritorious Dish Of Vegetables Judged In The Competition" as we looked at these amazing collies and remarked how white they were, a woman behind us said in a posh voice "yes, they're not Collie Flowers, they're Golly Flowers". I bet she says that every year and really looks forward to it. So rarely do you get to hear a joke that relies on a pun of the word 'Golly' - I love the Tatton Show for this! I would like to have said "Yes and that's not just Maize, it's fucking amaizing" that would have given her a new joke for next year.





LUNCH AT FORTUM & MASON

We had booked to have lunch at Fortnum & Mason which was very good but not without complications. Firstly they tried to say that we were too late for lunch but we argued our way into a late sitting since we had booked and the staff were very good about it. Then at the end of the meal when it was time to pay there was a long queue and the card machines weren't working well. There were lots of people in the queue complaining about long waits, wrong orders and not being able to have the lunch menu they'd booked (as had nearly happened to us).

Having to queue to pay seemed to be a bit of a nolvelty to some of the customers (who must have never been to a Wetherspoons or a Bernie Inn) and some were threatening to leave without paying if they had to wait any longer. I did feel sorry for the staff that were fending off and dealing with the complaints, but I felt a little proud that the English, notorious for not complaining, had found their mettle and were getting stuck in.

Our own problem was having to wait about twenty minutes for the payment to go through. At one point the internet connection was lost and I had to put my PIN in a second time. I made them check that my payment hadn't already gone through. Now we've got home we have found that we have been charged twice. We are now complaining and hopeful of getting a full refund of both payments or a free meal on another occassion. They certainly seemed very responsive to complaints and making amends. It's one of those companies that prize customer service but their systems really let them down today.

It didn't ruin the experience though because we weren't really in a rush. This was typical of the whole day, it was such a good atomosphere that any glitches that might otherwise have been a problem, just looked like an 'experience' to me of what life could be like if we all just freshly pressed our jeans, queued nicely and said Golly just a bit more often.

Mysterious Power Cuts

We have been having mysterious power cuts at home. What makes them mysterious? Well they're power cuts - power cuts are always mysterious aren't they?

Our house is a bit isolated so it's easy to get paranoid. I wouldn't be paranoid if it wasn't for the fact that everyone in the entire world is out to get me. But there are some more specific things that are strange about the power cuts too.

Firstly the power cuts always happen in fair weather, previously I've only ever known them happen in stormy weather when you can assume that a tree has blown over and broken a power line or something.

Related to the fair weather, is the fact that the power cuts only last about two minutes or even less. If there was a proper old fashioned power cut from the olden days, which I have based my entire knowledge of power cuts on, the power would be out for hours and we would definately need to find some candles.

Another thing is that the street lights go out at the same time. On the basis of a half remembered facts from years ago, I thought that street lights were on a completely different circuit and it would be impossible for both our house and the street lights to go out. So that, and all of these reasons, make me suspicious.

There can only be one explanation - I just don't know what it is.
But it could be one of these:

[A] - We are going to be attacked by living humans.
(1) We are going to be attacked by baddies who are very organised and well equipped baddies (like off of Spooks or 24 or one of the Tom Clancy books or films)
(i) They are attacking us because they have mistaken us for someone else who knows something or is a goodie spy.
(ii) We have not been mistaken for goodie spies or people who know something, but we do know something or we are spies. Either my wife knows something and hasn't told me, maybe she's a sleeper? Or maybe I know something and I didn't realise how important it was at the time I learned it. I don't think I am a spy though - if I am I'm a sleeper in a very deep sleep.

(2) We are going to be attacked by goodies. These could be CIA, MI5 or MI6 or maybe some maverick goodie who's had their licence revoked or been double crossed by a mole in their ranks
(i) We are about to be attacked because we've been mistaken for baddies - maybe they'll torture us because they know we know something, but we don't know anything. But people who know things would say that wouldn't they, so they'll keep torturing us and oh what a pickle we'd be in then. In the end they'd have to kill us because if nothing else we'd be witness to a terrible injustice.
(ii) We're going to get attacked because we are baddies - in fact see [A](1)(ii) above, the implications are similar.

[B] Ghosts are causing the power cuts

(1) Trapped souls are lurking about - like on 'The Others' [SPOILER] they don't know they're dead (come on you must've seen that film by now).
These types would be causing power failures and surges without even realising it I reckon. They would probably be nice ghosts - I don't mind them until they start moving my tea bags.

(2) Malevolent mischievous conscious ones - like those ones who are a bit nasty to TV's Yvette Fielding from Most Haunted (especially back in the day when Derek Acorah was there being really horrible to her - funny how when she got rid of Derek the nasty, woman hating ghosts didn't seem to come so often).
Ghosts seems to like the dark better don't they? So they would want to turn the lights out so they can bump things and make shapes in the shadows and spook us out. That would be yet another plausible explanation to add to our list.

[C] Aliens

Fucking Aliens again! I knew it. There is no other explanation. We live next door to a corn field where they like to make circles, another neighbouring field has cows in it, we know aliens like to molest cows. In fact the aliens were probably trying to get the lighting right for a bit of cow loving, dirty bastards. Well case solved. At least they're not after me and from the look of those cows, they like it. You should see how erect their teats are.

Anyway these power cuts are putting the willies up me (there's a new theory - someone is causing power cuts so they can put willies up me - I bet it's the aliens, dirty, dirty aliens).

Free Schools (with pics of male and female models)

Michael Gove, UK Education Secretary (not pictured) is pushing forward the Conservative policy of allowing people to set up their own schools, 'Free Schools' based on the Swedish model.

I am all for Swedish models (the picture above is probably of one) but there seems to be a number of problems with the citation of success in Sweden. Not least of these is that there is no evidence that free schools do better. Another problem is that, whereas the policy idea is for free schools to plug the gaps in rural communities, but Swedish free schools are predominantly concentrated in three urban areas. Finally 'Free Schools' don't come for free - in an environment of spending cuts, the funding for free schools could very possibly mean mainstream school closures. Otherwise free schools will make education cost more not less.

'Free Schools' of course doesn't mean we'll be getting them in our cornflake packets for free. It refers to the fact that they are liberated, unshackled from the rules, regulations and good governance (pehaps?) and support of Local Education Authorities and the like. This implies that the level of burden on non-free schools is unduly arduous to the point of them being imprisoned. So why isn't the policy to remove this burden from all schools? This would possible improve the schools and save public money.

Giving busy bodies a bigger say under the 'Big Society' agenda is one thing but don't let them set up their own schools from scratch. They can just gt more involved in existing schools.
Enough of the political ranting it really was not my intention. I wanted to consider five schools that might be set up under this new initiative.

1) The School of 'ard knocks
This would be set up by all those people who reckon a bit of bullying never did them any harm and consequently there would be a bullying policy in place.

Under this policy, anyone caught not bullying would be given an atomic wedgie by the Head (case) Teacher in front of the whole school. (bullying UK website)

This schools would have special links with, and act as a feeder to 'The University of Life'.
The school of 'ard knocks would lead to two possible outcomes for it's students.

To support this, careers advice would be limited to [A] - Becoming an amazing, against all odds, rags to riches Entreprenuer. Or [B] - becoming a criminal.

2) The School of fish
Fish are experts in schooling so why not give them a chance to set up a free school? Subjects would include Fishstory,

give me a minute...

Bass-ematics

You can also study Fishical Education and Fishics (Thanks to @grahamtcousins) and before you graduate you will be offered work Plaicements (Thanks to @JackiePatie).

Finally you will learn that, although things to do with Fish are supposed to be easy to pun, at 2am it is hard to generate many fish puns without good friends and a Twitter hashtag called #fishschool.

Oh and if you feel Eel you can see the school nurse (leave it).
phew!

3) The School of Rock
No, Not the fish 'Rock Eel' (enough with your fish puns- ten-a-penny).

I am talking, of course, about a real life version of the Movie 'School of Rock'. Only Jack Black would be allowed to teach and at this school we would only admit uptight posh kids who have perfectly (prefectly) good prospects of becoming an obnoxious lawyer or something, and then turn them into personable, likeable, soulful kids, you know really nice kids like all kids are underneath - who haven't not a hope in hell of getting a job in the current economic environment. I mean even established talented rock stars have to work their asses off on tour now the performing right gravy train has ended. That will show your stupid posh parents - send them to my private schools of Rock!

Moto: "We can make them nice and rock and roll, but they're coming back home and going on the dole."

4) The School of Thought


There would have to be more than one 'School of Thought' and some of them would not agree with the idea of free schools at all. Children in schools of thought would all develop the same attitude to a subject as everyone ese in that school of thought, which would make the debating society completely boring. Lessons would take the form of quiet reflection on a subject that everyone agrees with and no questions would be permitted.



In order to work effectively different schools of thought would have to organise exchanges through the internet, during which total chaos would break out and the children would fight and argue and would never be able to agree. They could never agree if they stay in their own Schoold of thought because they would be arguing from different premises.


5) The School of the Swedish Model
The Swedish model of free schools is the one that supposedly works. I have to clarify this would be an adult school - I am not sick, just a bit excited by the prospect of a lot of Swedish models together.

The teachers would all wear swimware, the furniture would be simple classic design and lovely wife of Tiger Woods could just be there, looking all nice. ahhh.

Here's some pics - even some for those who prefer their Swedish Model's male.

How to teleport using a Pot Noodle in a carrier bag.

I was away on business once and rather than eat alone in a restaurant, I did that terribly unhealthy thing of smuggling stuff back to my room to eat. I had trecked up to a McDonalds that I'd seen earlier in the day, but it was closed, so I had ended up getting pot noodles and junk food, which I was carrying in a plastic carrier bag.

On this journey back to my digs I started wondering, if "cold hands, warm heart" was true, were all hand characteristics opposite in heart terms? Small Hands, Big Heart? Trembling Hands, Still Heart? Are all heart attacks caused by defensive hands? I thought I could start making my hands very unhealthy to save on my Shredded Wheat bills and ensure a long life.

Perhaps, I thought, the "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" is a more appropriate basis for a rule that could be extended and transferred to other scenarios. So I had a look in a bush, but could only see two disgarded carrier bags - then I realised there was one carrier bag in my hand, and presumably no carrier bags in my heart! There could be something in this.

Then there was "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" to consider. I was absent from home so as my heart was growing fonder for my home and family. It follows that my hands were getting 'less fond', and meanwhile in the bush, fondness was depleting at twice the rate it was in my hands (two in the bush to one in the hand).
Then in an instant, the vacuum created by the rapidly depleting fondness in the bush, sucked air into the bush, blowing out one of the carrier bags.

This made half the amount of air suck into my hand making the carrier bag split exactly in two (because there was now only one bag in the bush, so half in my hand). The pot noodle and junk food spilled over the floor.

For some reason though, this didn't get me down. This was probably because now that my hand was empty, my heart was full, reducing fondness and all of a sudden I was transported back home - I was no longer absent.

And that was the day I discovered how to teleport using a carrier bag, a pot noodle and a certain homesick feeling.

"Home is where the heart is" they say, and this was now literally true.

Sperm Wars - A New Hope

I wish I had the internet in 1998 - Or took the time to read more widely.

I picked a book off the shelf in the study today that I'd bought while I was at University 12 years ago. I suddenly remembered one particular part of it that had stayed with me in the back of my mind.

Sperm Wars
I recalled something from it about womens' bodies being able to pick and choose, without the woman's concious knowledge, what sperm it wanted to fertilise it's eggs.

A further scary revelation was that, if they were ovulating, the poor helpless women, with the best of monogomous intentions, couldn't really help wrapping themselves round a stranger while they were ovulating in a nightclub.

Obviously this must have been a poorly remembered version of what this scientific book had said, so I was keen to delve in to see what the hell I had read over ten years ago.

These days I am much better at critically analysing things and picking holes in them. I was sure on a second read all these years later I would find the flaw in the theory. As I was now the stable husband type in this half remembered scenario, I was offended by the suggestion that any old handsome buck in a night club could pull my wife just because she was ovulating, and all in spite of her resolute faithfulness too. I'm sure she'd be all the more offended herself.

The book is 'Anatomy of Desire - The science and psychology of sex, love and marriage' by Simon Andreae. The writing is very balanced and the author points out the limitations of all the research throughout. So I am not criticising Andreae, per se. I can't remember why on earth I bought it. It certainly wasn't to do with what I was supposed to be studying at the time - I think it must have caught my eye in the University Book Shop.


I suppose I was more brave and more curious then. If I'd bought something with a title like that today, I'd probably feel quite self concious - either 'dirty old man' or 'man with problem', or both. But of course I have the internet for that kind of thing these days.

So today, after all these years, I dipped in the book to find the right bit - and correct my knowledge. This is what I found. (please forgive the distasteful nature, I am paraphrasing the book).

• The particular study referred to in the book was by biologists Robin Baker and Mark Bellis and was based on their book their 1995 book, Human Sperm Competition.




• The study revealed that women's privates do spit out the sperm of their stable partners and suck up the sperm of their sexy lovers, through what they termed 'flowback' and 'upsuck' respectively. Charming.


• Linked to this was the discovery that if women orgasm about the same time as the man (which they are more likely to do with the lover than the partner) there was less flowback, because 'upsuck' is caused by orgasm.


• The book defines a woman coming 'close' as having an orgasm beween one minute before the man up to to three minutes after. (Three minutes after is presumably after man is asleep, watching tv or making a cuppa - ho ho macho joke!). Not close could be either long before male orgasm or long after.


• Women masturbate more the more sex they're getting. The reason they give is that, subconciously the women want to kill the sperm of their stable partners, so they masturbate to create a hostile environment for sperm to survive (makes it mildly acidic).


• The size of balls in a species is an accurate indicator of the level of sexual promiscuity of the female of the species. I believe this point. But rather than supporting their argument, I think it supports the argument for the level of human female promiscuity being controllable. (Erm - controllable by the female I mean, minefield!) But perhaps the authors had bigger balls than me (the smaller the balls the less promiscuous the females are).


• [Can I side track here? - I just love the image of macho male animals with big 'ol balls, thinking they rule the roost - not being aware that all the while, that their females can't get enough of their buddies big balls as well.]


• And yes there was this bit about women while ovulating being less faithful, although this might have been part of a different study. I suppose there's something in it - just not the way it's all written like an animal instict that the woman can't control.


• Finally some estimates of female promiscuity were set out as follows: 47% of the women in the Baker and Bellis study had 'double mated' (slept with more than one man within a five day period). Outside of Baker and Bellis Andreae back this up with other research on wives having affairs: in late 1940s 8% of under 35s had affairs; 20% by age 35; In 1980 it was 50% of under 35s and 70% of over 35s.

Counter argument - A New Hope

I reiterate, I wished I'd had the internet more readily to hand back then because on the basis of a quick google I have found a bit of criticism in an Independent Newspaper article by another author (Tim Birkhead) which has put my mind to rest.

Although I was sceptical about the idea's in the book back then, I was also impressionable and I quite like theories of uncontrollable animal desires in humans. Blaming insticts could let you off the hook after all, a convenient way to think sometimes.

I was optimistic though. I thought that, even if there was some primal truth in this theory, my future relationships could beat these odds. I still think so, in 1998 I found a love so strong, that no hunk sniffing round my ovulating woman would get a look in. I married her too.

[By the way there is a whole load in this book about men which I may review another time, I am sure isn't any more flattering.]

Exploding sperm

The Birkhead article summarises the work of Baker and Bellis and points out something from it that is not in my book.

"Their most extreme idea was "kamikaze sperm" - sperm which, on contacting those of another male, exploded and killed both themselves and their rival.".

These guys are crackers - I love the idea though, and aparently it happens in other species. Other species more likely to gang bang as a matter of course I expect.

Size of Balls (again)

The article goes on to criticise the survey evidence as being self selecting and having too small a sample size and it refers to later experiments that failed to replicate the 'exploding sperm' (surprise) and certain paternity test evidence they used. You can follow the link if you're interested. The important thing is that we can so quickly find information these days.

The article also refers a bit more to this size of balls hypothesis, using the two extremes of
Gorillas and Chimps. Gorillas have small balls and have faithful wives, Chimps have big balls (10x bigger than Gorillas' using measures relative to body weight) and have slutty slutty wives.


Humans are in the middle of the scale, but far towards the Gorilla (faithful) side of the spectrum, with balls that are only twice the size of Gorillas' using the same relative measure.

So there we are, women are twice a naughty as gorilla girls but only 20% as slutty as chimpesses!

Cave loving
Finally I'd like to return to my book to study a passage at the end of the relevant chapter, which leaves a fantastic image with me that I must share.

It refers to 'flowback' which was Baker and Bellis's term for what we now call the wet patch or drippy cream pie (depending on how uncouth you are). The book says that "Tim Taylor, an archaeologist from the University of Bradford, has suggested that flowback may have been even more crucial in our evolutionary past, when regular strenuous excercise (and notable lack of chairs) equipped our female ancestors with strong and controllable pubic muscles. Early women may have been able not to just let sperm drain out, but actively to expel it."

Now imagine, cave man and cave woman, approaching the climax of rocking the cave.

Caveman "UG UG UG UG uuuuuggg ahhh." Cave man is satisfied, he has a cave smile on his cave face and then he hears a strange sound....."SQUELSH - SQUIRT-SPLASH!"

and a trickle of his cave load running down the cave wall.

Caveman "UG? YOU SQUIRT OUT MY JUNK?"

Cave woman "UG. NO! - IT JUST THE RAIN - YOU GO SLEEP NOW - I GOING OUT TO CLUB. DON'T WAIT UP."

Caught by the fuzz

I was driving home from work today, wondering what I might blog about tonight.
I was listening to the Adam and Joe Podcast for Glastonbury (Day 3 - with the football commentry - very funny).

All of a sudden I noticed two police women in yellow high visibility vests stepping out into the road and the one in front was holding her palm out to tell me to stop. She was directing me into the car park of the pub she was stood in front of.

My first thought was that there was danger up ahead and they were protecting me. Then I thought maybe they were looking for someone and as I was sure I wasn't who they were looking for, so I tried to calm myself down. Then I thought I might be mistaken for who they were looking for so I started panicing again.

OK- the police officers didn't look like this, but 'safe search' is off on my google images and the internet has more images like this than of real police - damn you internet, grrr *shakes fist at the sky*

I pulled into the car park and turned the engine off - my heart was beating through my chest at the thought that I was in trouble. I thought of financial penalties, my family's reaction, my boss's reaction (it was a company car).

I opened the door and the police officer was coming towards me. She started what it turned out must have been a well rehearsed script for her day.

"Do you know why we stopped you today sir?"
"No" Luckily, I realised it was best not to start guessing things like:

• Am I drunk?
• Is it the drugs?
• The guns?
• The body in the boot?
  

"It was your mobile phone, sir"
I knew she was right - I was two models behind now on the iPhone and that must be some kind of offence in Cheshire.

My captor continued "This would usually mean a fine and points on your licence but what we're offering today is to raise awareness we would like to show you a film"

"Not Avatar is it?" I said "because I'd rather take the wrap"
"No, sir"
"Police Academy?"
"No, sir"
"Police Academy 5?"
"No!"
"Aw shame, well what then?"
"It's an information film to raise awareness of the dangers of driving"


I thought I was going to have to attend some speed course, I'd heard they do that these days. I thought I'd have to attend an evening class to watch this film but the police officer lead me back towards the road. They were going to show me it there and then.

Although I was already late home, I thought this was a pretty good deal so I said I'd go for it. I hesitated for a moment thinking I should phone home, but I couldn't find my phone and thought I probably shouldn't really mention my phone - it was the phone that got me into this trouble.

As we got to the road side I started my excuses.
"Not that I think this makes it okay, but I was only listening to a podcast"
*silence*
I continued to fill the silence "...so is that the same? I mean, it's just like the radio really isn't it?

"...except I suppose the radio is in a fixed place and I also have controls on my steering wheel so, no I don't.....suppose....

...podcast?"

"Pod? Cast? is that like texting is it?"
"No I'd just be sort of pushing play" I actioned pushing play on an iPhone for her.
"Well I don't think that would really make any difference, but you could try your chances appealing in court."
"No...I probably wouldn't"

I felt like I was moments away from her twisting my arm up my back and shoving my face into a police car bonet - so I shut up. I've seen the Traffic Cops documentary. I know what they're like.

Funny thing was, she was so young and so teeny that I would have quite liked the novelty of getting wrested by her. It would be like playing with the kids. I took this as a sign that I was getting old and shook it out of my mind.

She helped me cross the very busy road, which made me feel even older.
I thought at the time, this was much more dangerous than whatever I had been doing in the car as we had to stop in the middle of the road while large lorries passed either side. I should have offered to show her a video of the dangers of crossing the road when there was traffic speeding past.

"Is this film going to be gory?" I asked "Is it a shock thing?"
She didn't answer - I am sure she thought I talked too much and wanted me to fit into her two choice system - (1) watch the film or (2) take the punishment.
Further she only expected one answer - (1) Watch the film please.

Once across the road, I was directed to a van type vehicle, I went round the back and discovered about four other sheepish looking motorists.
Wow! I thought, it's true this campaign that I heard about so many people using their phone while driving. It was rife.
I later realised we were in for all sorts not just phoning, speeding, eating, unfashionable hair the lot.

I was relieved that the woman who was showing the films was a fire officer not a police officer. So I felt in slightly less trouble. I was also pleased that she beckoned me into the fold of naughty drivers without making me wait for the next showing.

The films were effective and I do think I needed to see them.
I was a bit fond of using my phone while driving and I am repentant.

Afterwards I filled out a form that asked if I would share the information with friends and family - I circled the box [MAYBE] and thought about Read Pole - so here are to two films I saw - just for you.


Back across the road I went and safely back to my car.

I wondered where my phone was and then I suddenly remembered. When I'd first seen the police woman, I knew I had my phone in my hand and without thinking I'd unplugged it from the lead that made the sound come out of my car and thrown the phone into the footwell.

Was I really prepared to lie to the police about having a phone?

I found the phone and unlocked it.
To my guilty surprise, I hadn't been pushing play on the podcast at all, of course I hadn't. I was already listening to it so I didn't need to press play.

What I was doing was having a look at any new followers I had on Twitter - which was completely unnecessary.

I do feel guilty that I'd got into the habbit of using my phone whilst driving. But what is worse, only a moment after getting caught, I had completely denied it to myself.

I drove home without even calling to tell my wife I'd been detained - I didn't even want the police to see me with the phone even in a safely parked vehicle.

This experience completely worked on me and I appreciate the police for doing it.
I hope one or two of you readers think again as well before picking up the phone while driving.

UK Big Brother 11 #BB11 Odds on Ife is a gonna

Why anyone is on the edge of their seats on Big Brother Eviction night is beyond me.
You can usually be pretty sure who's going to go by looking at the betting odds.
To stop speculation during Big Brother 7, during which Pete Bennett remained the favourite throughout the entire series, I used to post a chart on the wall in the office showing what was going to happen - I was almost as reliable as Paul the Octopus in the World Cup.

I think there was a couple of occassions when it was close and I got it wrong, but this is a pretty good method.

People who bet on Big Brother determine the odds. People who bet on Big Brother make a fairly reliable sample of thos who vote on Big Brother. There are two main reasons why the betting odds would not indicate what would happen in the phone vote and these are:

A - Gambling types have different preferences to the phone vote audience at large.
B - A contestant does something out of character late in the week, that goes against the previously established opinion of their character (e.g. racist, sexist, violent conduct etc)

For UKs Big Brother 11 (2010) - The current chances of winning the series, as implied by the betting odds are as follows:

Josie is the favourite by this measure - but there are plently of housemates still in the running. In particular Andrew is thought to be bringing up the rear and the series could still be won by someone who has not yet shown their true colours, or even someone who has not yet entered the house.

Of course, the odds for Mario, Corin and Ife in the above chart are currently distorted by them being up for evicition. I have also calculated the implied chances of being evicted for these three and it doesn't look good for Ife who has a 72% chance of going:













So what can Ife do to beat the odds? Not much I think it is more for the others to throw it away. I haven't been watching that much but Ife seems alright to me. My interest is purely statistical, and in the fact that Steve is a bit like my gardener - but with less legs and eyes. Hold on! Steve could be a pirate (see post on pirates on this blog). Hmm what are the chances of Steve being a pirate? I can feel a chart coming on....
D.P.

Was it something I said? You sexy things? Jesus likes boobs.

I was really pleased at the weekend that my 'followers' on Twitter were steadily increasing after the round of #Followfriday recommendations without a lot of effort from myself.

I thought maybe it was the positive influence of this blog - well I hoped. Or I had reached some kind of exponential growth level.

But over the last two days I seem to have lost almost all the followers I gained.

I know you're not supposed to care about numbers of followers - I still feel dirty from the time I went to a 'followback' pimp and picked up a load of followers who I didn't really understand and who only ever tweeted about following.

I also feel guilty from the early days when I would say thinigs like 'follow me - I am funny', 'please follow me'. Well I couldn't get started - more of which later.

I was reading an article about how the average number of tweets by each Twitter user is - one! That means those of us who stay on and use it are dwarfed by those who register and can't get off the ground with followers, Tweet once, and give up.

Perhaps these single tweet users never go back or perhaps these users are content to watch the Tweets of famous comedians, or watch the timelines scrolling by on various trending topics.

When I first signed up, I couldn't get going and I nearly gave up. I had a handful of random opportunist followers (waiting for me to follow back) that I was too timid to talk to. I thought they must have followed me by accident.

The reason I first signed up was because I saw Michelle G Mone OBE talk at a conference and I thought she was great. She said she had recently signed up to Twitter and I wanted to follow her.
As it turned out @MichelleMone hasn't really got into Twitter too much yet, seeming to favour facebook. But Michelle's activity has picked up recently and four days ago Tweeted:

"I just discovered what LOL meant, next time I won't ask as my face is bright RED!! Thanks all from a very embarrassed Michelle x "

So not a big social networker but Michelle is a very impressive and inspiring individual - and she makes boulder holders. Check it out http://www.ultimo.co.uk/ and http://www.michellemone.com/

What you wouldn't get from these sites is Michelle's incredible life story - but that's another, er story.

So there I was with no followers. I remember Tweeting that, since no-one was following me, I was showing my arse. I didn't realise there was such a thing as the public timeline.

The only chance thing that boosted my interactions and increased my followers enough to hold my interest was the http://www.fifa.com/ world cup sticker album. I was following the brilliant @EmmaK67 (Author, Actor and Comedian Emma Kennedy http://www.emmakennedy.net/ ) who I had been listening to on Richard Herring's podcast 'as it occurs to me'.

One day @EmmaK67 was going crazy about this virtual sticker album with such enthusiasm I had to get involved. It was fun and through what came to be known as #worldcupswapsies I got my first bunch of great followers and most are still with me.
Here are some of them:
@davidshawmcr
@lottedh
@quackwriter
@TheShaw2009
@wombat37
@statts247
@KingRichard76
@WillJTudor
@captain_doodle

Thanks you all - you changed everything, just when I was going to walk away.

It seems (TEAMFOLLOW please note) that Twitter works better when it has a purpose.

Tonight I've been exploring these anaytical tools that tell you various things about the way people use Twitter.

Before I start I want to say to everyone I know none of this really matters, you can use Twitter how you like, it's what you say not how many hear it, and so on...

but this is what I've learned about myself:-

followcost.com
I am potentially quite 'annoying' - updating on average 20 times per day lately - so taking up a lot of my followers time lines.

I checked this once before and it had me as 'Gold' - which sounds good but is bad - then again I discovered what it means which is that 10% or more of your Tweets are GOLD i.e. have exactly 140 chars I was 20% - so since then I go for 139 and now 0% of my recent Tweets are GOLD.

tweetstats.com I tweet more between 8pm and 1am (when I'm not at work - shock!) least on a wednesday and most on a friday. 40% of tweets are @ replies and these have been mostly to:

@Elle_LeRenard, @janeprinsep, @AngryWillie, @waichingliu81, @Starchildcoop, @oliverphillips, @CD70, @MsMeanor, @Ita99, @Mooley, @shaunsayers, @wombat37, @captain_doodle

Twitalyzer.com Impact score is 1.9% - doesn't that sound good, but is 70.8th Percentile (reflecting the many inactive accounts I suppose).


I am a 'spider' - meaning I "have mid-sized networks and are socially connected "











Tweetanalyzer.com There's tons of analysis in this one. But interesting to see that my unique reader reach was steady at 573 (my number of followers) until I launched this blog.

Then the post "accountants have sex" boosted this to 746

The post "The day I signed a uni student's boobs" pushed it up to 808

and yesterday's post "what really happened before Jesus was done over by the Romans." took my reach up to 1252, reaching double my own followers.

www.tweeteffect.com was really interesting - this tells you when people followed and unfollowed you and what you were tweeting at the time - so was it something you said?

It seems that the reason I increased followers was because I tweeted five people who mentioned coco-pops in their Tweets in the preceding hour. I might have to do more irrelevant random acts like that.


I was thinking of coco-pops because I was remembering one of my Tweets that I was most disappointed did not receive any re-tweets. It went: "Coco-pops and Rice Krispies, live together in perfect harmony, side by side in my breakfast bowl look, oh fook, why can't we?".

Then I waited.....

come on.....

gimmie some feedback Twitter...

... I know that was funny - oh maybe people think it's racist or something, maybe everyone's too young to get the reference, maybe no-ones looking, should I send it again....

Yeah, I know - all this doesn't matter, but it sort of does, as a secondary consideration.
I suppose I sort of take it as feedback that people won't give you directly.

I will watch with interest the reaction to this post - but one thing I have learned is to put sex, boobs or Jesus in the title. Hope you weren't too disappointed.