If you look at my playlist towards the bottom of the sidebar, you’ll see it’s got a bunch of stuff that I never usually listen to. Why? Because for the last week or so, I’ve been listening to all the UK Number One Singles from 1953-2006.

So far I’m up to track 381 in 1975: Bay City Rollers with “Give a little love” — yes, I’m listening to every number one, in chronological order! There have been few really dire tracks so far and it’s a really fascinating exercise, with loads of stuff that I vaguely remember hearing when I was growing up and not realising they were number one records. The sixties really did produce some amazing music.

Anyway, when I’ve listened to the whole lot, I’ll post again with my thoughts on the state of the UK pop music industry for the last 50 odd years. Should be interesting!

I just had a phone call from my tv/phone/internet provider, VirginMedia. The guy opened the conversation and said “Hello Mr Hill, I’m from VirginMedia, can I have your password please?”

“WTF?” I said. “No, you can’t until you tell me what this call is about.”

“I can’t tell you that until you confirm your password.”

“Um, well, until you confirm what this is about, you’re not getting my password. I didn’t ask for this call, you could be anybody.”

“I can ask you some security questions?”

“No thanks.” I hung up.

So I rang customer service, blah blah, anyway to cut a long story short I spoke to a very nice lady who confirmed that they did want to speak to me, but she also confirmed that the guy didn’t follow procedure correctly (although another person in the the chain earlier said he *did* follow procedure. Huh?)

I asked to make a formal complaint that the procedure sucks, is alarmist and arouses customer suspicion in these times where we’re supposed to be more vigilant with our personal details. Whether or not anything changes is anyone’s guess.

Anyone else experienced something like this?

Oh, and points to anyone who understands the title of this post… it’s not what you might think!

Spammers used to try and encourage personal growth — literally — by using subject lines that suggest you need a bigger, harder, more energetic trouser snake*.

So it’s kinda funny to see a new trend with the subject lines in my spam box: “What a stupid face you have here” and “You look really stupid”. Rather than trying to encourage us or flatter us, they are now using the opposite tack: insult us. I think this will probably work better — no-one likes people to think badly of them and I reckon a few bruised egos or insecure souls will be clicking on those links.

This is briefly amusing, though it does alarm me somewhat to wonder how far this could go. It’s not much of a leap from this to use subject lines that are bullying, intimidating and downright threatening. Maybe if this happens, catching and prosecuting spammers will suddenly become as important as catching terrorists — with all the curtailing of civil liberties that seems to entail.

I shudder at the thought.

*Yes, even you ladies.

*spoiler warning*

Harrison Ford clearly is still Indiana Jones. Only he’s not entirely the Indiana Jones I remember.

I saw the newest Indy film last Sunday: the child in me was stupidly excited, having waited the best part of 20 years for Indy to buckle his swashes, crack his whip and generally raise merry hell among crumbling ruins while chased by caricature baddies with dodgy accents. So it was with a little disappointment that I left the cinema after two hours of convoluted nonsense that was fun, but couldn’t hold a candle to the original three films.

The film has everything you expect from an Indy movie: Beautiful and ancient locations, mysterious artefacts, camp yet dangerous baddies, car chases, death defying stunts and those cheesy one liners. Set piece chases leave you breathless, great special effects make you feel you’re there and some great scenery-chewing performances from support such as Cate Blanchett and John Hurt make you gleeful of the ride you’re on.

And yet, and yet… while the film is undoubtedly fun, it’s somehow… flat. This is probably more to do with the plot than anything. It’s simply way too complex for this type of movie. I don’t mean that it’s difficult to follow so much as there is simply too much exposition required to keep the adventure moving. In the previous films, the stories were pretty simple and you could work out what was going on if you turned the sound off — not so here. I find it surprising that after all the re-writes that they went through to get a story they liked, they ended up with this turkey. It plays into the sci-fi world of X-Files and a hundred other theories about extra-terrestrial influence on early man. I think this was a bad call and the last act of the film that resolves it just left me thinking “WTF?” Indy has never been about aliens and frankly never should be.

As for the characters, well, they are all there, plus plenty of nods to previous people no longer in attendance. Yes, Sean Connery is in this movie… but only as a photo. The acting is a bit dodgy in places, but you generally don’t go to see Indy for Oscar winning performances.

I must comment on Shia Beef, the annoying twat from Transformers, called into play Indy’s son. He ends up undecided whether he’s Marlon Brando, Tarzan, or simply dazed and confused. The vine-swinging sequence was laughable, even for this type of film. Shia turned in a very dodgy performance. He’s not an action star, that’s for sure and has very little screen presence. The film hints that he could take on the mantle of Indy in future adventures: I sure hope not, he would destroy it.

Cate Blanchett was great as the Russian baddie, all chiselled jawline, intense blue eyes, short black bob and a mean streak with a rapier. It looked like she had great fun playing this role and is quite a departure from her more serious stuff. John Hurt added some credence to the preposterous proceedings, though he was very underused. I couldn’t work out if he had really good ‘old’ make-up or he really looks like that these days. If it’s not make-up, he really hasn’t aged well! It was great to see Karen Allen back as Indy’s love interest, though some of their chemistry was lacking.

The thing that really didn’t work for me was the lack. Of what? Well, just the lack generally. For example, there’s a sequence where Indy hides in a fridge and is blasted out of an atomic explosion (yeah, yeah, I know…) — when he emerges, you expect a quip, but there’s nothing. Even the music was missing. And in a sequence where our intrepid team are braving three consecutive waterfalls, there’s no music at all. It made what should have been a tense, exciting set piece into a dull “get on with it” montage. As for the title: “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” — didn’t anyone tell Lucas that less is usually more?

I’m not entirely sure if all my criticisms are justified, or if it’s simply that as an adult, this new adventure simply can’t hope to hold up to my memories of the originals. Regardless, the film is fun and is worth seeing if you’re an Indy fan, just don’t expect it to be on a par with Last Crusade.

Hello again. It’s been a while. How have you coped without me?

Not having blogged for some time, I thought I’d just write something and see where it led me. I’m in a very weird place at the moment. The last few months have been very odd. Depression kicked in again around February and workloads went to practically nil for nearly three months (and thus all savings have also now gone). On top of that I split with my girlfriend. Safe to say I haven’t been too happy.

Yet it’s Saturday afternoon, it’s sunny, I’m listening to Dusty and about to head out for the domestic chore known as food shopping. It would be nicer to be able to do something with friends. But since moving to London (and my recent split), I still don’t really know anyone enough to just call someone up. Finances lack too.

But, you know what? It’s OK. Work is beginning to trickle in again. I’m getting better at promoting myself. Enquiries are coming through the website and referrals are more numerous. I have plans to get out there and meet new people. I’ve started daily exercising (ouch!). Onwards and upwards.

The next few years are going to be tough. I feel like I’m starting my life over. But it will be worth it.

Bring it on!

Now this is why we loved Knight Rider. Outrageous — and not a seat-belt in sight.

This is what you get if you fail to put the Beach Boys in your top selling music game.

I work from home most of the time, so any outside noise is an unwelcome distraction. It’s been especially trying over the last few weeks with gas men digging up the road, tree fellers at work and my neighbour having his flat ripped out and refurbished. But by far the most annoying is the lazy leaf blower.

These lovely maintenance men come out in force with their oversized hair dryers and proceed to blow leaves ineffectually about for a couple of hours before tiring of their sport and finally leaving them in a big pile. If they’re feeling a bit energetic, they might actually take the pile away too.

What I dislike about these damn devices, besides their incessant buzzing, is the fact that they are a massively wasteful tool. Not only do they require significant materials to build them, but they also need fuel. In this day and age when we should all be conscious of our energy consumption, it’s rather absurd.

You need three things to clear up leaves: Rake. Broom. Elbow grease. That’s all.

UPDATE April 8: Another guy is out there today and I got a good look at his setup: It’s a goddamn backpack mounted petrol driven engine the size of a large portable TV! Fuckin’ insane….

I’m not funny or clever enough to make up a good April Fool, but quickily trawling the web this morning reveals the first few for your day one amusement. Big fat warning: if you like to be surprised by April Fools, I’ve already ruined these for you. Add more links in the comments as you you find them please!

• Flying penguins
• Google FutureSearch
• Betamax to HD-DVD converter
• Virgle — Men on Mars 

Here’s a quick follow up to the recent post I made about my neighbour and his complaint about my noise.

I went to see him a couple of days later to clear up the situation. It was odd to say the least. ‘R’ invited me into his flat and I ended up there for over half an hour. He turned out to be a pleasant enough guy but wetter than a haddock in a bathing suit. By the end of the conversation, he’d all but retracted his complaint, agreed that he’d handled it badly, told me I was the bigger man and finally said that in fact, the noise wasn’t that bad at all! It was awakward and embarrasing, for him. And at one point, I thought he was going to hug me.

I told him that I wouldn’t change my behaviour regarding my girlfriend but that if the noisy pump was a problem, I’d be more mindful in future. I left, went shopping, and when I returned home another note had been put through my door. It was a thank-you, an apology and a retraction all in one. We’d just done all that, why did he need to confirm it with another note?

People are strange. I feel a song coming on.