Hooray for technology!

There were rumours, but finally Google put up their hotly disputed Street View pictures for a whopping 96% of UK roads. You can even go as far as the Shetland Islands with this thing.

Now, call me a nerd (okay, once is enough…) but I love it. I know it took a while and caused Google a royal pain in the arse when people kicked up a fuss about privacy and all that, but tools like this are amazing. No questions asked (Well, I’m sure one or two of my lecturers would).

Since they released it’, I’ve lost hours looking round places I know and places I’ve wanted to visit. Of course I’ve visited my house, but I’m not going to show you that – this is the Internet after all.

But thanks in part to Timi, we’ve already found Jordan coming out of NSB and Jake’s mum, but I’m looking for the cock-ups. The dogs being run over, the bloke entering the porn shop, the house on fire. You know what I mean. If you find any, leave a comment or something, and I’ll love you forever. Promise.

So what does this sort of thing throw up? I mean, great for technology. You can now get a proper look at houses without actually going there (obviously not inside – Google aren’t that sophisticated/creepy yet – but Microsoft are) which isn’t simply its ‘best side’. You can look at landmarks from home. You can give someone better directions to a meeting. The list is virtually endless.

But then you’ve got the other side of the coin. The “Oh, it’s an invasion of privacy” crowd. Okay, if they were taking a picture of your face up close, blowing it up and putting it on billboards around the country with a “LOOK AT THIS TOSSER” subtitle, I’m inclined to agree with you. But when they’re blurring your face out, you’re essentially part of the landscape. You shouldn’t be doing stuff you don’t want people seeing in public, should you. At least, not when El Goog are around.

So go spend some time in the new, in-depth UK Street View and lose a couple of hours. Let me know if you see yourself!

It was a pretty awesome movie and I suggest anyone who hasn’t seen it see it soon. But if you’d like I’ll sum the whole idea up for you here. Don’t want the plot to be spoilt? Well, you’re watching the movie for the wrong reason. Shunned.

Essentially this bloke here – Craig Schwartz – is an out of work puppeteer and so goes to apply for a job at LesterCorp, situated on the quirky 7 1/2th floor. When sorting files, he (quite conveniently) finds a portal which, when passed, will allow whoever went through it to see through the eyes of John Malkovich himself for fifteen minutes, before being chucked out at the roadside. 

I could ruin the plotline further by saying he falls for his co-worker Maxine, who then falls for Malkovich when Craig’s then-wife Lotte embodies him, therefore forcing Craig to embody Malkovich to spite Lotte and finally be with Maxine, but then she gets pregnant while Lotte embodies Malkovich so it’s technically her baby. But anyway, I wouldn’t do that.

Throughout the movie everyone who goes through this portal – despite Malkovich himself, obviously (because that’d be weird) – feels untold happiness after being able to embody someone else, let alone it be famous actor John Malkovich. So it raises several interesting questions, which essentially boil down to this: Would you?

If you found a portal to become John Malkovich, would you go through it? Would you enjoy it? It’s an interesting question, and it’s one I’ve always really pondered through life. Wouldn’t it be weird if I was just instantly famous? Wouldn’t it be weird if I could see myself? Wouldn’t it be weird if I could influence another persons actions as if I was them? Obviously, being a famous person would be amazing. In the film it’s capped at fifteen minutes, which is probably best. Any longer and you’d go crazy, right?

But enough of the questions. When I was growing up, it was more of the idea of embodying my friends. I know that sounds kind of dodgy, but bear with me. Of course, I am me. I’ve never experienced what it’s like to be anyone else. My internal persona may not be how I am perceived by others.  “Am I normal?” is a very typical question asked by those growing up, and the answer is “You’ll never know, unless someone invents a John Malkovich portal.”

Then you’ve got to think what you’d do if you had control of another body. I’m sure many of you are instantly thinking of pervy things (much like in the movie itself), but I suppose that’s only human nature. There’s no point going to make a cup of tea, watch TV or just Facebook rape them – you’re John sodding Malkovich!

But alas, now let’s move on to a more theoretical side of things. I know, my lecturers are loving this. Are your actions as another person real?

I mean, of course you’re physically doing these actions as this person, so in that sense it’s real. But how much is seeing through our own eyes real, let alone someone else’s? Their experience of the world could be far contrasting to your own, so embodying them does that bring you into their real? Ah, so many unanswered questions. Where’s Claudia when you need her? (Oh, right…)

In short, I won’t bore you with the details of that theory – it would take well over your attention span and besides, I can’t remember their names off hand – but I’d like to pose a question if you’ve stomached it this far: What would you do if you could be John Malkovich?

2. Student Elections are on this week.

3. Steve’s so badass he forgets he puts his wallet in his shoe.

4. Nothing pleases the flat inspection lady.

5. American’s don’t like frosty nipples.

Unless you’re some uptight little snob, like the Queen, the Pope or… God or someone, you probably do your own shopping. Some of you may even like doing it. But grocery shopping? Seriously?

Ladies, when you’re not making sandwiches, talking about shoes with your “girlfriends” or busy conforming to any other stereotype, you love shopping. Even in supermarkets. Supermarkets being where all the crazy people come together to form some sort of honorary mental asylum. You’ve got the bloke who seems to follow you everywhere, the old couple who debate which kind of rich tea biscuit is best, and that woman who always reads the back of every packet even though she knows she can’t have it because of her wheat intolerance and should really stick to the stuff she knows without getting in the way when you try and get something off the top shelf and she’s in the w-… yeah. You love them.

Blokes, you don’t. You go in, you go out. Even if it’s a beer run, you’re in and out. Sometimes you look to see if there’s any offers on what you want, but nothing more than a minute. I just can’t fathom how some people can browse in supermarkets. You can’t browse at… milk, can you? (Although supermarkets, we know the milk with the best date’s at the back at the bottom. Oh yes. We’re on to you).

But my problem is this. I’m a student. Already saying that, you imagine spending all my money on Pot Noodles, vodka and drugs, because you’re a sucker for the media. But no, I just get screwed over by Student Finance.

Student Finance, you might be wondering what that is if you’re not from the UK. So I’ve outlined my problem with them with a metaphor. Domino’s Pizza. See, all I want is three Pepperoni pizzas and possibly a sweet chilli dip. How hard can that be?

*RING RING*
Hello?
Hello. Hi. Is this Domino’s?
Yes, it is! It’s your one-stop shop for all your pizza-related metaphors. We can give you all the pizza you need to get you through your three years of party, get-togethers and-
Okay, whatever. I just need a few pizzas before my guests arrive.
Certainly, what would you like?
Urm, just three large pepperoni pizzas please. Keep it simple, you know.
Ah, sure, okay then. Hang on one second.
*WAITS*
Okay, hello?
Yes, hi! Okay, how much is that going to-
Sorry before we can give you your pizza, we just need to know how many people are at your party, what their annual income is, whether you live with any of the guests, if they own their-
Woah, hang on hang on. Why’d you need that?
So we can work out how much pizza you’re getting.
But I need three pizzas. And a sweet chilli dip. That’s what I ordered.
You may have ordered that sir, but your situation does not warrant that much pizza. We’re willing to give you two Texas Barbeque pizzas delivered in three instalments throughout the evening.
Hold up, why are you giving me two pizzas I didn’t even order?
Well from our records, your current situation means that you don’t need any more pizza than that.
Well my guests aren’t going to give me their own pizza, it has nothing to do with them. I need three pepperoni pizzas and a sweet chilli dip to get us through this evening.
Sorry, sir. We can’t give you a sweet chilli dip. Our records show you have more than enough already.
So what do you expect us to do, starve?
That’s not what we’re aiming to do, sir. We’re trying to award the pizza to the people who are in need of it most.
Oh, so that’s why next door can throw out unused pizza, is it? How can he afford to go out drinking all the time when I can’t even afford Sainsbury’s basics ready salted crisps?

…okay, I might have slipped out of metaphor…

But that’s my point. I just don’t get what I need from Student Finance as it is. It seems they’ve got some serious flaws in their system. If it wasn’t thanks to my parents for setting me up a savings account from when I was a wee one, I would have been screwed by now. So if you’re listening Brown, Cameron, Clegg or… god forbid Griffin,that’s what you need to get my vote (and, in the case of at least one of you, stop being a racist mofo).

It’s also annoying that Mr Sainsbury’s has the balls to give me a “£3 off when you spend £30 or more in store” voucher. Thanks for rubbing it in, dude. If it wasn’t for your Nectar card, you’d be receiving an angry letter… or something…

Essentially, my point is this. My proposal, dragons, is to create a chain of stores made especially for students. Everything inside it is £1. You could put them where all the Woolworths stores were and while everything inside it will be inherently sub-standard, it’s cheap, and that’s what students love. In fact, put them in nearly every town in the UK and everyone will love it. We’d become, like, a Pound… Land!

(Just a quick thing, I’m having to steal people’s pictures from Facebook, seeing as even I’m smart enough to not bring my camera to Carnage, but know that other people are much more brave than I am. Love you people! )

As a quick summary to all you people who don’t come from a Carnage-equipped dwelling, Carnage is essentially the student night where you buy a shirt, dress in appropriate fancy dress and get heavily intoxicated. A giant piss-up, Bournemouth style.

The theme for this one was Beauty and The Geek, which as I’m sure you’re well aware by now – thanks in part to reading a blog of mine – that I’m pretty much geek already. Don the mandatory 3D glasses with the lenses popped out and a loosely tied tie and you’re ready to drink.

But first you need to get a shirt. Carnage is pretty popular, so getting a T-shirt can sometimes be a challenge, it seems. But fear not, as I ordered mine a long time in advance to collect from the Litten Tree on the day. Bit of a queue, but I’m British, I can deal with that sort of thing. But when I got to the bit where I got my shirt, the guy gave me three. I wasn’t going to question it.

Pre-drinks at Toms was your generic pre-drinks-at-toms. Full of alcohol, Ring of Fire and lip-syncing videos which will never see the light of day. Got to love it.

In my stroke of quote-unquote ‘genius’ while I was in the Lansdowne area and while they were open, I decided to get me some drinks. Kind of bored of drinking beer, I went with my Steven Kay-induced love of vodka red bulls, just with ASDA brand energy drink. It’s nice, but has a bit of a problem, as we’ll come to in a minute.

Then Carnage happened. Essentially, a night out in Bournemouth, dusted with more bar-hopping than usual. Yates’, Toko, Bliss, Lava. While let’s not mention what happened in Bliss with Ash and Joel (or indeed anywhere with Tom…), it was a great night out. Loving all the Facebook pictures.

Didn’t realise how much of an effect the ASDA energy drink had, though.

I know I have a fairly low tolerance to energy drinks anyway. But generally the first time I drink it I get a buzz, but the rest of the time it doesn’t effect me. That was until it came to going to sleep.

Ash was kind enough to let me and Steve (and Aleece, too. She just can’t get enough of us…) sleep over in his kitchen. I nabbed the sofa, while the rest casually used the mattresses. I preferred sleeping on the sofa. Don’t know why.

We talk, we laugh, we try to sleep. Well, they manage to sleep. There’s me lying there at half four, still awake, with a couple of songs on loop in my head. I’d need to get up at 10 to get back to Poole and to uni on time. Ehh, never mind. I managed.

So all in all, a lovely little night with the IMPs. Saw my flatmates out, too. Couple of photos with them until we speedily exited Bliss. Never mind. All in the name of fun =]

Northamptonshire – which is where I’m from, for all you uni peoples – is to be rebranded as “North Londonshire” to get Londoners to move there, thanks to a two-year advertising plan funded by the Government (Well, technically, almost half of it’s with your money, so…).

What’s this £1.3 million scheme going to achieve, I hear you hypothetically ask inside my mind. The answer is bring investment and people to Northamptonshire – especially North Northamptonshire – who want to live in London, but want a rural setting. We’re only an hour or so away from there, y’see.

There will be poster campaigns as well as radio advertisements around London promoting North Londonshire as “the best of both worlds”. Oh, how nice and kind of you. Thanks for the compliment.

Most of the Northamptonshire MPs were unaware of the decision until very recently, which is why we’re only hearing about it now.

However, group spokesman Simon Evans says that it’s a good thing it’s caused so much controversy as it get’s people talking outside the county boundaries. Well, no it’s not a good thing, and anyone who doesn’t live in Northamptonshire (bar me, obviously) isn’t going to give a monkeys.

Needless to say, it’s ruffled my feathers. North Londonshire makes us sound like that bit only the ruffians go to. You can imagine people saying “Oh, don’t go to North Londonshire. Certainly not without some sort of automatic gun…”. Please clean the brush before you tarnish us.

Steve quite graciously picked me up some time before 7. There was a bit of a panic as nobody could get hold of Aleece, who we were supposed to be meeting up with, with her friends. Steve and I just decided to go in anyway and see if we could spot her coming in.

We ourselves got in just as the first support act was finishing. When we got in there there was a little quote-unquote “mosh pit” going on in the centre involving about ten 16-year olds a little to hyped up on their Panda Pops.

There was another support act, who for the love of god I can’t remember the name of, but they were quite good, albeit quite lacking in the variety of music they played. The wee ones kind of calmed down a little. Sugar high had ended.

Then, of course, Hadouken came on. (Well, you’d kind of expect them to, to be fair…)

They played their songs (again, like you’d expect them to) and I was expecting to hear a bunch of songs I’d never heard before seeing as it’s a tour to sell their new album, but no, they played quite a few songs I knew, actually.

But then it ended. In perhaps the most shortest set ever – under an hour long – they’d run out of songs to play. Great. So I essentially just wasted my money? Well, kind of.

Hadouken gigs are something you just have to experience, I guess. There’s nothing about their music that hints towards a nice, sombre listening experience. Of course not. Their songs instantly give the young ones a second wind of excitement thanks in part to their love of Kinder eggs. There’s no stopping them.

Seriously, I felt sorry for Aleece’s friends who had come down to Bournemouth to come see them play, because I was behind the guy behind them, who just wouldn’t stop jumping around on everyone. I know that was kind of the consensus for everyone, but this guy took it to the max. Seriously. He went at it like one of those wind-up teeth that you let go and it just keeps nattering away…

Then there was this little guy who liked jumping up and down just to hit my chin and give me a mouth full of his waxed hair. Thanks, kid.

There’s also this guy who insisted on waving his arm in my face and elbowing my cheek at nearly every other beat. That was until he was taken out by a security guard whilst getting rid of another person. Hey ho.

That’s another thing – I’ve never been a particular fan of the security at the Old Fire Station. It’s like someone’s given them a brief of “…just make sure nobody breaks anything, and get them out of the room as soon as the gig’s finish, mmkay?” and they do little else. A fight broke out in the middle of all the people about half way through and they just stood there. People fell on the floor and couldn’t get up. Grr… what do you get paid for?

Alas, anyway. Carnage on Sunday. That should be a laff.

Hadouken! on 12seconds.tv

Can you imagine waking up on a beach, with no idea who you are, let alone where you are? No money, no phone, nothing? Well spare a thought for this man who had that happen to him.

Yesterday, Police sent out an urgent appeal to find out who exactly this person was. The man in his 20s or 30s was found unconscious on Brighton beach near the pier by a passer by. He had clothes on him (well, thankfully. It would’ve been that little more awkward had he not…) but little else. Nobody knew the person, neither did he. All he knew was that he’s now in Brighton for some reason.

It wasn’t like he was homeless or poor or anything. He was described as being well-dressed, spoke good English and unfortunately suffering from hypothermia (but I can kind of guess where that came from…).

After his picture was released to the news services, today his identity has been  “95%” confirmed and someone’s coming up from London to try and figure out what exactly happened.

But imagine that. Just appearing randomly on Brighton beach, or anywhere for that matter (because Brighton’s just a bit too scary to randomly end up in) with no idea who you are, let alone how you got there. Not knowing anyone, no money, no form of contact. You’re essentially born again, but in the body of a 20-something. What would you do?

The case mirrors another one that happened in 2005 where a German man called Andreas Grassl somehow ended up in England, at a beach in Sheerness. He refused to talk when found and when given paper, drew a piano. When they gave him a piano, he then continued to play music such as The Beatles for about four hours until hospital staff took it off him.

Other times, he drew a Swedish flag and when shown a map, pointed to Oslo. However his identity was revealed to be German when one day he woke up and “just knew who [he] was”, after speculation printed in The Mirror as to his identity.

Creepy as. But what would you do if you were in this sort of situation – Woke up with no idea who or where you were?

2. Live bands are epic.

3. All the work I need to do ends up needing to be done at one time.

4. The sun reminds me why I chose to live in Poole, when it comes out.

5. I’m waiting for Lara Croft’s Back Passage jokes.