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Showing posts from January, 2012

Please Sir, oh, just please then

Right, fine, Sir Fred is now plain Fred. Backslaps all round. Justice has been served. Well done all. Some thoughts, though: whilst Goodwin (or possibly just plain FG these days, having forfeited even the right to an unabbreviated name) was clearly a colossal dick and is single handedly responsible for the misery of thousands, so were a whole bunch of people. I'm curious as to whether or not the chopping down of the man who's come to symbolise the venality of bankers will sate the public's bloodlust, particularly after the token humiliating of Hester; in which case an entire crate of penises will be breathing a big sigh of relief and cracking open the Montecristos. It needs bearing in mind that Fred Goodwin was not the banking crisis, and the banking crisis was not Fred Goodwin. It's also worth bearing in mind that he's still trousering a £375k p.a. pension, so whilst it may sting a little, I'm sure he'll lie back in his bed made of money and reflect that i…

Snark

and why not? the tea is bubbling away, Mrs Coastalblog is swearing at her planning, the offspring sleeping the sweet, inscrutable sleep of the indestructible and I have a moment, just a moment, to spare, so why not list five things currently getting on my nerves? After all, it's so fresh! Okay, fine, I'm bored.

1) Gove, obviously

2) Oh, Michael Kiwanuke, you come across in interviews as a thoughtful and pleasant chap, but for some mysterious reason critics have yet to notice that you make Jack Johnson look like Lemmy.

3) See also Lana Del Rey, cheer up.

4) The TS Eliot prize, which had they an ounce of integrity would have been called off after the credible part of the shortlist bailed

5) Yachts, all yachts, without exception

Web 0.3, possibly, 0.4 at a push

Oh dear oh doctor I really am not terribly good at the internet, as you have probably gathered by now. Or rather, I lack the inclination to be so. So here we are in 2012, when people have phones that can remodel their faces to attune to their mood, where children can create music from air, where even my ten month old son is using his iPad to start a record label to rep the ten month old scene, bruv. And I still have dear old Coastalblog, looking increasingly like the leathery uncle you can't pry from your armchair come Christmas. But, right, it has new links, see? Yes, it's only taken me five years to put the business on here, pretty nippy, I'm sure you'll agree. Oh, and twitter, for my sins.

And in this spirit of reckless linkage abandonment let me point out that sometime coastablog confrere, a Ms J O'Mahony, late of this parish, is continuing her stellar upward trajectory at a rate designed to strike fear and envy into the hearts of those who are still weighing up…

New year, new keyboard

New, new, new, all is new and shiny in the limping, wheezing world of coastalblog. Well, not overly so, but I can now do these !@? I feel so much mre expressive. And yes, I'm aware that I could have used a virtual keyboard, but frankly I couldn't be arsed. The main problem is re-teaching myself to type, I've gotten so used to caps-locking on and off at lightning speed, as well as avoiding most sentences involving either the declarative or interrogative for obvious reasons?! (you see?) (I've also avoided parentheses). Cheers Jim.

So much for that, you cry (and rightly so) we care naught for your sudden adoption of the shift key, and who could blame you? Not I. Do you have anything interesting to say? You cry, to which I can only reply no, not really, I am a very dull man. But, and this is crucial, I am a very dull man with a functioning shift key.