Wowing the crowds at this year’s Farnborough International Air Show is “The Bloodhound SSC” (where SSC is short for SuperSonic Car). The Bloodhound team are aiming “to confront and overcome the impossible using science, technology, engineering and mathematics”, by which I think they mean “to achieve the possible…”

I have to admit, the car looks pretty snazzy:

Snazzy yes, but SuperSonic? No. It turns out that what’s been wowing the crowds isn’t the Bloodhound SSC itself. It’s a model. The Bloodhound SSC doesn’t exist. They’re just hawking for backers. The latest, according to the Bloodhound Team is that: “50% of the fuselage build now secured thanks to key product sponsor Hampson Industries”. All that exists right now is a snazzy model. And a sales pitch. Which makes me think that I should be over in Farnborough wowing the crowds and rattling a tin myself, with my design for the UltraSpeedMAX-FLASH, a wave-powered supercar that can do 10,006 mph. Check it out:

Damn, I forgot to label the leather driving wheel. Oh, and a should say, 50% of the leather driving wheel funding is now secured.

Oh my. I’ve gone all giddy. I’ve got butterflies (like it was in those early days with Armin Meiwes). I’ve fallen in love again, and this time it’s with Stuart V. Goldberg — the criminal trial attorney, author and screenwriter, who has just become Lindsay Lohan’s new lawyer (having, I presume, just finished representing the ghost of Liberace in the Case of the Rewired Sunbed):

Immediately do this – go to his website, and watch his video, in which he explains how he grew up in fear of an exploding water tower, how he taught “ediquamentally handicapped kids” (?? – it’s a word I’m not familiar with), and how he yearned to represent the “have nots” as a lawyer.

The video explains how lawyering wasn’t feeding Goldberg’s soul in the right way, so he sat down and wrote “for 568 days straight”, and produced his novel, The One and Only. But how? How did he manage to create such a masterpiece…?

“and it was this Leonardo de Vinci moment. They asked him ‘how did you make those statues?’ and he said ‘I just put my hands in the clay and they came out’.”

I think that’s roughly how he applies his make-up in the morning.

This is Goldberg musing over his typewriter (which, if it’s not in the Smithsonian by now, surely must be on its way):

And here he is, looking every inch the trustworthy defence attorney:

Stuart V. Goldberg. Top trial lawyer by day, top romantic thriller author first thing in the morning. And by night…?

Tonight, if the sky is clear, look up into the orange, and there amongst the stars you’ll see it sparkle, placed there anew by the trembling hand of Lucifer, bright as a hooker’s eye, more beautiful than all the other stars in heaven (it thinks), shimmering like a hooker’s shoestrap, a silver drop of infected semen to shine down upon us forever, for alas – the thinkable has happened – Ô blasphème de l’art! ô surprise fatale! – Sebastian Horsley is dead.

L’éclat de ce soleil d’un crêpe se voila! as Baudelaire put it, thinking, no doubt, of Horsley as he wrote.

So that’s it. Game over. Horsley, the fool, has gone to shoot up with Jesus in the big whorehouse in the sky. And the world just got a little more boring. Although, on the plus side, there’s one fewer enormous arse living in it.

Damn, I’m actually sad. I can’t believe I’m sad.

I can’t quite figure out why. But perhaps it has to do with Horsley only just now turning his life around. Laying aside the crackpipe, putting down the hookers, and earning an honest living. The ink upon his contract with ExxonMobil barely dry. And only one tie-in product out on the garage shelves: a litre bottle of Horsley Ultra -

I will buy it tomorrow in his honour.

And drink it.

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I look forward to that.

So – Barrack Obama – tasked by a weary nation with cleaning up the White House. Not the first black man in history who’s had that job. I’m so relieved I could spit. It’s been a long one. Giddying. I was up all of Tuesday night. I think it was the scallops. They were reduced, but they smelled sort of ok. They go lilac when they’re cooked, right?

People are saying that a tired Obama looks a good 2 years older now than when he began campaigning, 2 years ago. But he must be feeling energized, and I can’t wait to see what he almost manages to get done. I want to know details. Obama has so much promise but will he fulfil that promise? – and if he does, I want to know exactly how many bullets will strike him, and in which city? Not long now, I guess. But it’s the waiting…

Oct 162008

This may work. We’ll see. I’ve just made a podcast using technology (mainly) and some other stuff (I had a Double Decker halfway through). It’s a bit ramshackle, and… well, it’s my first one so I’m cutting myself some slack. It may not even work anyway.

I’m going to try and upload it.

THE NEWS WITH BRIAN LAYCOCK.

Does that work?

[I can't quite tell if it has or not. I've either totally wasted the last 3 hours, or almost totally wasted them..]

Hang on – this is the same thing as an MP3 file, without the nice picture of the bus:

THE NEWS WITH BRIAN LAYCOCK (MP3).

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What a boring tie. If my head was on upside down I think I’d wear a fancier tie, to distract. Or a buttonhole. A jaunty handkerchief, even.

Something like this:

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this is what I see looking back whenever I look in a locker room mirror.

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what do YOU see?

nb this is actually a photograph left on the computer in the Pousada we’re staying in for another 2 nights. What I see looking back when I look in a locker room mirror is generally the man standing next to me, stepping into his shorts, wondering why I’m photographing him, which is never for any sinister reason. I just like to take a photograph of everyone I see. Glimpses don’t count. I have to see the full face. Then I record it, print it, paste it in my files, and test myself at monthly intervals. 

Life is good at the British Potato Council.

I mean, not only do they get all the potatoes they want, and get to call themselves a Council, they also have people pay them money:

We are funded through a statutory levy on 5,500 potato growers and potato purchasers and we aim to stimulate, develop and promote the GB industry to consumers and our customers.

And what do they do with this money? Well, mainly this:

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Which, in practical terms, means doing things like getting Sharron Davies to tell us why she thinks potatoes are like the best thing ever and what her favourite potato is:

“Potatoes epitomise British food, they’re versatile, they taste great and they are healthy too. They are perfect for making quick, simple and nutritious meals – for me nothing can beat a delicious baked potato. An Estima is an ideal choice for a baked potato.”

So. Sharron Davies likes the Estima. That much we know. Does that come under Research & Development?

Yesterday, in the afternoon,
I rested my eyes, and saw
A man with hair inside my room,
He said the number “4″
And pointed at me, in my room,
And said again the number “4″.
And touched his hair, and left my room.
And that is all I saw.

That’s the statement I gave to the police. I sat for a while with the police sketch artist, and we came up with a reasonable likeness:

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I remain on the look-out.

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