Occulomency

Changes

I've invited a select few to be guest authors, the reason for this is that their comments are invariably funnier than the posts than spawned them, so this is going to become a little more communal.

I'll deal with you later

An explanation:

3-2-1 was a show that ran for years on ITV (that provider of quality entertainment).

Divided into three rounds, this was an uneasy mix of variety show, comedy sketch show and game show.

In the first round, three couples (the 3 of the title... do you see what they did there?) took part in a quiz, having to name up to ten things that belonged to a particular category, alternating answers and Ted letting the female have the example as their first answer. Partners could help but in mime only. Something the judges felt didn't fit or a repetition ended the round prematurely, which would cue in a quick "joke" from the resident "comedians".

Anyway, each couple were given two rounds of ten questions, their money being equal to ten times the first round score multiplied by second round score.  At this point, I should mention that the contestants were invariably morons. during my research for this post (all three minutes of it), I found the following transcript:

Rogers: "This is a composer. German by birth, English by adoption. Best known for an oratorio published in 1741. It was called Messiah. You're bound to know his handle."
Female contestant: (presses buzzer) "Oh God, I used to have it at school... Handel's Water Music..."
Rogers: "So who's the composer?"
Female contestant: "Chopin?"
(audience shrieks in disbelief)
Rogers: (shrugs shoulders and turns to other team) "So I can offer it to you."
Male contestant: "Beethoven?"

See what I mean?

In the second round, the two highest scoring couples survived to play either a 'Generation Game' style challenge, or more inexplicably, the Atari VCS version of Breakout.

They were also subjected to torture and trial by ordeal, courtesy of The Brian Rogers Connection (an unfortunately named dance troupe). The two surviving couples were brought various cryptic clues by cabaret acts, including magicians and comedy acts, well I say comedy, I mean Les Dennis and the Krankies.

After three clues, a tie-breaker question was read out and the winning couple went on to receive two more objects to which  clues were attached. The trouble was, the clues were so cryptic, that no-one could possibly guess what the frak they were about.

The final couple then  had to try to solve the clues in order to keep the star prize (usually a British Leyland car) but eliminate the booby prize, Dusty Bin, which signified winning a brand new dustbin. It was a lottery, and lets face it, you'd probably be better off winning a bin than an Allegro, so it was a case of lose-lose.

Fay ce que vouldras

I mean, what's not to like?

She drove a Lotus Elan.

Four Sixty Eight

Years ago I remember driving through Norfolk and having a poke around this very strange black domed structure.

I always wondered what it was for, and despite having a keen interest in  World War II bombers, I could find no reliable information as to what these domes were used for.

Well, a bit of digging about on the interwebs has revealed the probable use of these strange structures.

These domes were in fact a simulators for training air gunners and navigators.

The gunner was seated in the centre of the dome inside a four-gun turret simulator. For daylight training, moving images of aircraft flying were projected on the interior of the concrete dome, for night training, and this is the clever bit, small lights fastened to the interior, imitated the night sky. By switching some of the lights off in sequence, the impression was given that a plane was occulting the stars. The trainee gunner was supposed to spot this and fire at the plane.

For Navigator training, the dome was effectively used as a planetarium.

There, mystery solved. I wonder what happened to the buggered up old car that was in the thing when we looked in the late '70s?

Forth of Firth

Peter Firth did indeed appear in Equus.

Here he is being presented with an award by Princess Anne.

BTW Click here for "Here Come the Double Deckers", it is hard to believe.

The world is far more complex than I had imagined.

Peter Firth.
That man there, on the left.
Yes that bloke from Spooks.
You know, he was the bad Russian that Sean Connery killed in the Hunt for Red October.
Yes, that's him. He was the one with the Russian accent.
He did a pretty quick lap in the reasonably priced car too.

Well, it turns out that in the early 1970s he was the leader of the Double Deckers.

Yes.

That show with Melvyn Hayes.

Melvyn Hayes, by the way, was married to Wendy Padbury.

She played Zoe Heriot, companion to the second Doctor in eight stories.

Which proves that it is a small world, but also indicates that Melvyn Hayes may actually have been an actor.

Zoe was hot.

I just can't let it go.....

I was watching the BBC breakfast show this morning, and Tessa Jowell, our illustrious Minister of Sport said, and I quote:

"... the reason we don't have world class gymnastic facilities is because, until this year, no-one has medalled in gymnastics...."

Oh Tessa, I find that very hard to believe.....

Where fore art thou, Cherry Ripes?

I have a real craving for a Cherry Ripe, or even better, Cherry Ripe Ice Cream, or even better, vanilla ice cream mixed with chopped up Cherry Rip bars that have been marinaded in brandy.

It's one of those 'craving for things you can't have' days today.

The Olympics wear on (don't they) and even though Team GB has done more medalling than your average scout jamboree, I am starting to lose interest. The tipping point came yesterday when the British Media (or Gits GB) ignored the acheivements of Mara Yamauchi,whose sixth place represented the  best finish in the Womens's Marathon (soon to be known as Snickers) by a British woman.

The reason for this? Paula bloody bleeding I've got a poorly leg and I need a shit by the the road Radcliffe. My theory is that she isn't actually human, but is a 1978 Austin Maxi. This would explain why she can't go 26 miles and 385 yards without breaking down. Why run anyway? It seems to be pointless unless you are being chased by a man with a stick, and even then a car is going to be your first choice.

And do you know why the Marathon is 26 miles 385 yards? Eh? What's that? Pheidippides? Battle of Marathon? For a start, the distance between Marathon and Sparta is 153 miles.

Anyways, the reason it is the convenience of the Royal Family. As it should be. In 1908 the Olympic Games were held in London, and the starting line was placed outside of a window at Winsdor Castle, so one half of the Royal Family could watch, the finish line was placed in front of the Royal Box (no Princess Maragaret wasn't born then, don't be rude) at the White City Stadium where the rest of them were camped out (no, Prince Edward wasn't born either). The distance between the two points was... 26 miles, 385 yards, and it's been the standard ever since.

In previous games it was just around 26 miles, so they didn't meddle too much. A bit like Paula Radcliffe them.

If this be a natural thing, where do it come from, where do it go?

So, last weekend I was involved in a deep and meaning conversation (rare) which involved the question 'who was born by Immaculate conception?'

The answer is Mary.

The Immaculate Conception refers to the birth of the Virgin Mary, not the virgin birth of Jesus. The confusion stems from the doctrine of the virgin birth by which Mary became pregnant with Jesus through the Holy Spirit. Under the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, Mary was granted immunity from all suspicion of sin the moment she was conceived.

Unfortunately, the Bible makes no mention of this occurring, and it only became official Catholic Dogma in 1854. Many theologians believe that the doctrine is unnecessary as Jesus redeemed everyone anyway.

It's not the only sex scandal connected with the Bible either, I picked these up recently from cracked.com:

Lot had drunken sex, in a cave, with his daughters (Genesis 19:30-36)

The Song of Soloman is mainly about boobies, and if you can come up with a clean, printable meaning for 5:4, "My beloved put his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him", you should win a prize of some sort.

Now I feel kind of dirty.

A hole in the Universe exactly the same size as .......

Right Children, it's been a while and quite a lot has happened so you lot are going to have to sit up straight and listen.

Are you sitting comfortably? Good then we'll begin.

One Wednesday nearly nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, I was sitting in a small office in Rickmansworth wonder how we were possibly going to fit all of our associated junk from our old office into our new one. This was achieved without having to nail anything to anything.

The office move went well, but I was away from home for 3 days.... Boo, hiss etc.

On the plus side, near the office is the metropolitan line, served by an ex-Great Central Station, which puts central London only 22 minutes away. Yip!!

Then I did a bit of a Continental sojourn starting on Friday and ending on Sunday. I went to the rather fascinating little country of Belgium.

The name 'Belgium' is derived from Gallia Belgica, a Roman province in the northernmost part of Gaul that was inhabited by the Belgae, a mix of Celtic and Germanic peoples. Trouble is that by the time Belgium was actually formed in 1830, most of the Belgae lived around Winchester (Huguenot related stuff, I am lead to believe).

I am amused to note that it is known as the "the cockpit of Europe", a referance to the amount of time it has spent as a sodding great big battlefield.

Anyhoo, my visit there was quite pleasent, and a special mention must be made of the shower in the place I stayed. It was, quite definitely, the best shower I come across in my many years of staying in various types of travellers accomodation around the world. Quite exceptional, well done Belgium.

I travelled entirely by rail, and that worked very well also. The Eurostar was fast, smooth and on-time, the British stuff was on-time and comfortable and the station in Brussels is a shit-hole from the eigth layer of hell.

I returned from my journey in time to see my lovely children at a birthday party for one of our friend's kids.

A lovely, although extremely tiring weekend.