Exercises in the higher banter with One of 26. Elsewhere called 'poet of adland'. By a whipple-squeezer. Find out why being beta is the new alpha: betarish at googlemail dot com
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Review: The Wikipedia Revolution
My review of Andrew Lih's book has been published in this week's Times Literary Supplement. Obviously, it's not online, so I've posted a JPG and PDF.
As it was commissioned a few months ago, I haven't touched on the flare up this week regarding the number of editors leaving the site. For what it's worth, I don't think that the exodus will adversely affect the development of the English site much - it has stablised, and this is what you'd expect to happen when a period of explosive growth ends, as it clearly has.
I think the central thrust of my review still stands, the role of the 'cognitive surplus' - which went oddly unmentioned on last night's Newsnight. Those loosely tied to the project have left to find a new hobby to spend their surplus time and labour on.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Commercial: You what?
Amelia's 'chatty packaging'. I think I just about get what Orange are trying to say. But only just. If I was the bag, I'd be having an existential crisis. Maybe the iPhone has gone to everyone's heads.
It's not helped by the little print, which says, "This bag's made from 80% recycled post-consumer fibre and 20% materials from a sustainable forest."
'Post-consumer fibre'? I'll leave you to make the 'shit bag' jokes...
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Reportage: Sunday at the Royal Court
She was – literally – all white rabbit armour and – he hoped – no chain-mail knickers. This wish was as close as he got to dropping the claim of saintliness he made on the back of his black and gold jacket.
‘More wine,’ she said, from under her blonde helmet. ‘I demand all the wine that you’ll drink in harvesting the confidence to ask me to bed.’
He looked the long lances she flicked our from under the table, clad in sheer black filo pastry. ‘A joust,’ he thought, ‘has never promised so much.’
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Video: Cook back in anger
So a few weeks ago, The Spectator ran a competition to submit an extract from a novel or a play where the title was changed by a single letter. At the time, I was reading John Osborne's Look Back In Anger. So naturally, I thought there was space for a spoof somewhere...
While I await to hear to whether I have persuaded the denizens of the Coffee House that it's worthy of some reward, I thought I'd have a muck around with the script, and turn it into a film utilising the whizzy Xtranormal service.
Isn't it amazing how 21st century you can make the kitchen sink 'drama'?
Monday, November 16, 2009
Crossrail pop up pop
James and me had a random twitter chat t'other day, lamenting the absence of the Astoria at Tottenham Court Road, to the (necessary) vicissitudes of Crossrail.
As is the way of these things, we thought we should try and do something.
Hence TCR Crossrail Pop up Pop.
What's the idea? Two elements:
1) A place to hold Crossrail and Westminster Council's feet to the fire, and make sure they keep their promises about being a live music space in the new development. It could even be a pop up venue; hence the name.
2) A place to share your memories of your great gigs and wild nights at the Astoria.
As usual, there's various twittery things you can follow too. Spread the word, and keep rocking.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Listorama: Facebook status updates vol 14
Invisible Cities. It’s been the theme of the week
will fall through the cracks today
last day of school!
Routine is so routine, dontcha think?
Heads. And maybe fingers and toes too
is preparing to emote
will have a mazzy day today
The Platonic ideal. Obviously
Congrats to Kelly and Simon, who are getting married later today
Drying out. In lots of senses
Thinking big thoughts hurts the head
will give you the extra life
Damnation comes in multi-octave runs
Enjoying the silence
is super satisfaction baby
is the definition of fussy
is the wolf at the door
ah the ol’ ‘thanks for keeping me awake party people’ feeling
Heavens, I have all that to do today?
Inspiration required for this space please
can’t decide between Alice or the white rabbit
Hello couch, my old friend
is in Liverpool. It is raining
is the lamb and the knife
Raise it up
should really write more things down
has forgotten what the question is
dreamed last night of an endless cricket pitch and a match that unwound like a carnival to eternity
last night dreamed of ambition coursing off the top of hills
This time, I was in a snaking queue of culture fiends, which wound round the city like an elastic band, waiting to burst
I saw the Big Brother house silently dismantled piece by piece,a nd for the last few hours of their incarceration, people asked to contemplate an expanse of grass and sky
Put the blame on mame, boys
doesn’t have any way of measuring that
Signal to noise ratio here is pretty much making it unusable
Heavens! We really must stop meeting like this!
Fears it has all caught up with him
Has a viral infection, is drugged up and under orders to rest
Seeing the sun and not being able to play. Boo
Darling, it’s a life of surprises
Bear with me baby, I’m a little behind
is a social object
Starting over. Or again, as it should more correctly be
If my night was any guide, I really have to start writing this thing
is in a corner, with a bottle of wine, wondering who’s next
is dead set on destruction
All this I’ve done for you
might hold a wake for thelondonpaper today. Or he might not
Getting ready for Day 1 of Open House London. Hope to see you out and about
Heavens to Betsey. And possibly Murgatroyd too
This is the killing of a flash boy
thinking about monologies
Slow motion meltdown
wants to be part of a farrago of show-offs
is in the office
needs someone to detonate The Wake-Up Bomb
What did the insomniac say to the pussycat?
The answer is sleep
Thank God that month’s over
Rage, rage against the waking at night
Who needs Mafia Wars when we still have The Godfather?
Head of dust, and leaves and sand
Will you look at that?
is painting the silence
Dialogue. It works, sometimes
Futile (n): eight hours on the road, for a two-hour lunch. Hello in-laws
suggests that being in a manufactured pop band really can damage your health
Dance, dance, dance to the radio
is an oyster fisher
Behind the cue ball
is primary colours
Drowning in newsprint. This is a good thing
Loins. Girded. Nose. Blocked. Bring. It. On
There’s a black ghost on my trail
Hamster. Wheels. Happiness? Go
Come on! Answer the question!
Packing, foxes, words, squid and spring. Yes, I didn’t win that round of word association
will be at Wembley later. It’s any given Sunday after all
Just met a viola player who was miming behind Westlife on The X-Factor tonight. No rock ‘n’ roll goss, alas
Heavens Betsey, what happened to you?
Another day of purdah
‘The tension mounts. On with the tea dance!’ was the rather unsuccessful first draft Ice-T presented to the rest of Bodycount
The beast still needs feeding
Hello boxes, my old friends
Day 1 of packing is over
is now just one day away from growing up
now owns a third of a house. And is living in it too
can hear Big Ben from the bedroom
Methinks with this Live / News feed distinction, FB wants to drive me away
Is it possible to have a pre-DIY flashback? If so, I could be in it. My very own painting ‘Nam…
is writing this from the desk he spent all afternoon laboriously assembling
Walls do tumble down
Beast needs feeding, beast needs feeding