Maggie, I Think I Have Something to Say to You

So many of my heroes have written screeds against Baroness Thatcher, or Thatcherism in general -- Billy Bragg, Paul Weller, Declan MacManus ... And most of it's been well vitriolic. I'm no Torry fan, and her philosophy of unbridled markets have been proved ... well you read the papers ...

So why was I so upset to hear that Margaret Thatcher is suffering from Alzheimer's disease? I learned from an interview I heard just last week with her daughter, Carol.

Of course, I could go on about the coincidence that both she and her "boyfriend," Ronald Reagan, got their just outcome or some such rubbish, but I'm not in the mood to go there.

Is it the fact that without her, my punk heroes would have nothing to be so cross about? That makes no sense. Is simply that an important figure from that period is in trouble? I don't know.

All that "Tamp the Earth Down" talk seems so distant at the minute.

So for the time being, please just join me in wishing the Baroness and her family well.

Treacle the Hamster

Nothing heavy today ...

Just had to note the silly story out of Cumberland. Apparently, last week, a girl in London Road in Whitehaven put her hamster in one of ball-shaped contraptions while she cleaned out his cage. The bugger escaped and started rolling up the high street -- reportedly moving faster than rush-hour traffic. I was once told by a office on an joint US/Royal Air Force base that the problem with England is that it's a country with 50 million people -- each of whom own a car. It must be pretty depressing to be sitting their in traffic and to have a four-inch hamster moving faster than you.

A good samaritan picked him up and owner and rodent were reunited just a few days later. He had been labled "Lucky" for not being run down, but he real name is "Treacle." So British. Why don't American kids call their hamsters Treacle?

Please note: picture is of a generic hamster and for illustration purposes only; couldn't find a public domain image.

Watching the World Wake Up from History

The whole monarchy thing does very little for me, but it is interesting to note that the Anglican monopoly on the British crown may be soon coming to an end.

Gordon Brown has initiated legislation that would overturn the 300-year-old law barring Catholics -- and Jews and Muslims and Buddists, etc. -- from the crown. It's been determined that The Act of Settlement is discriminatory.

Of course, the system also sort of discriminates against anyone not part of the House of Windsor, but that's different.

Let Him Be

Macca has arrived in Israel and people are going nutter about it.

Believe me, I'm not going to start a political discussion here, but it did get me to thinking about how much more keen they are in GB to boycott the Zionist entity. For instance, British academics are still shunning their Israeli counterparts, and probably will do for the foreseeable future.

I'm sure it comes from a good place -- the Brits have a great sense of justice ... it's one of the things I like about them. Where would all those NGOs be without adventurous and committed Brits?

Again, this isn't the place to work out either the wisdom or the efficacy of such boycotts. But this is different to the situation in South Africa in the 80s. And I do I need to mention the Balfour Declaration? The British Mandate? No one's hands are clean here. Except for peace loving Paul.

All Sir Paul wants to do is rock. He's not a political figure. Plus, now that he's with Nancy Shevell, shouldn't he be able to have a look at the Holy Land. After all, he (and those three chaps he used to hang out with) were banned from the place, and he's never gotten there since.

FOOTIE NEWS: Just a quick mention that Chelsea got knocked out of first place due to a tie game with Man U and because of Arsenal made short work of Bolton. Tottenham is still at the bottom of the table.

Do You Feel Like He Does?

So I'm watching a Peter Frampton concert on Rave HD, and he's doing his stuff with the voicebox (which I love) ...

If you don't know what I'm talking about, you probably weren't alive in 1977, when his patented effect, where he "talks" through his guitar, was everywhere you went because as the cliche goes, everyone owned a copy of Frampton Comes Alive! [Exclamation mark not mine.]

Anyway, in a surreal moment, through the talkbox, Frampton starts talking about *baseball*, and how he loves the Reds because he lives in ... wait for it ... Cincinnati! [That time the exclamation mark was mine.]

What?

I have absolutely nothing about Cincinnati or the Reds or any of it, but Peter Frampton lives in Cincinnati? I know a certain percentage of Brits come here, but I thought they were all in Santa Monica. Well, a few end up in Florida and even Oklahoma, like our new friend, Brit' Gal.

Of course, to me, it seems like, "Why would anyone want to move in that direction?" I mean, they are card-carrying EU citizens. What's more, it's bloody impossible to go the other direction. I have one friend who pulled it off, but the first question on most application forms there is "Do you have a legal right to work in the United Kingdom?"

I suppose as long as he lives near an airport, a famous musician can have a house anywhere -- Frampton's probably on the road as much as he is home.

But Cincinnati just seems so random.

The Chunnel of Love

How British not to mention it ... Actually not just the British, but everybody. Nobody seems to be even suggesting what I am thinking.

I waited a whole week to put it into words, because I didn't want to seem paranoid. But a fire in the Chunnel on September 11th? And all these days later, they still don't know what caused it?

Please, please someone make an announcement about some boring faulty wires or some git smoking where he shouldn't have done. Something.

They Said I Was Mad at the Academy

In spite of my last post, all about the world's best science-class satire, GB must have one of the best science-education systems on earth.

Maybe it's the tradition of the Royal Academy of Science, but think of it: Gravity, DNA -- and now the beginning of time -- all cracked by Brits.

With the opening of the Large Hadron Collider, physicists will finally be able to test the theories of Peter Higgs of the University of Edinburgh. Higgs reckons he knows what happened in the first billionth of a second at the start of the universe. If they prove these theories right, Higgs will go from being a very famous scientist to being up there with Stephen Hawking (another you-know-what, if my point isn't proven by now.)

Good on 'ya Dr. Higgs. And I'm glad you didn't open up that black hole and swallow the earth like some scientists thought would happen.

A New Discovery -- Look Around You

This might not be new to many of you, but it was a startling discovery for me.

Robert Popper and Peter Serafinowicz and a merry band of idiots started a show on the BBC called Look Around You in 2002. The most memorable episodes send up educational films of the 70s and early 80s. And it's spot on -- is you grew up in those decades, you'll definitely recongnize the style, even if you were trapped in New Jersey like I was. Take a look at just the first 30 seconds of the episode below. It's perfect.

I embedded the one on Maths just because I've always thought that "maths" was a more accurate way of abreviating "mathematics" ... just another way that British English is superior to American English. But they are all brilliant.

It's been on BBC America and it's also available on DVD.

Can you imagine such lunacy on American telly? Me neither. I've said it before, but even though the BBC's business plan seems strange -- even Socialist -- Socialism obviously has its charms because it produced some pretty amazing entertainment.

Katie Price is Really, Really Big in Britian

The title of this post is the same as the title of a long article in yesterday's New York Times Magazine. It detailed the glamorous life of Katie Price aka Jordan (during her career as Page 3 girl).

This whole idea of what it means to be famous in England is getting more and more interesting to me. This is just the latest in a slew of articles about how (fill in the blank -- Steve Coogan/Russel Brand/Katie Price) is going to be big here one day.

Just as most Brits can speak American, (or at least know that flashlight = torch) they also seem to know nearly all of our celebs ... while we hardly know any of theirs -- unless you're like me, and I'm trying really, really hard.

Of course, they probably don't know the names of local news readers or perhaps American Football and Baseball player below the rank of Bret Favre or Daryl Jeter -- but neither do a lot of Americans. I'd be hard pressed to name one English cricket star.

How many times have you heard something like, "Billie Piper was the Brittney Spears of England" (filling in the former and later names to make a simple identification)? I mean, in the case of Katie Price, she's the "Pamela Anderson" of Britain, but because they used to get Baywatch, so is Pamela Anderson!

It seems as though Brits have their famous people AND THEN have to learn about all of ours. Maybe that's why I find all this stuff intriguing ... it's a view into an alternate universe where they speak the same language (sort of), but Rowan and Martin have been replaced by the Two Ronnies.

Seems I Picked Quite a Year to Get Involved with English Football

Checked today's scores.

Chelsea beat Manchester City 3-1! And it was Liverpool over Manchester United 2-1 ! The result is the top of the standings have been virtually unchanged since the beginning of the season. Amazing.

West Brom beat West Ham ... sorry Russell Brand. Brand, it turns out, is a rabid West Ham supporter. He even writes a column for the Guardian about football.


What an interesting country. Stephen Fry writes about technology in his spare time and the bad-boy of British comedy writes about sport? That would be like picking up the paper and Robin Williams has an article in there about fine dining and Dane Cook has an Op-Ed about the management of the New England Patriots of something.

Celebrity seems to means something different there. It's more personal, like you can have a chat with even their most-famous countrymen. I'll have to explore this more in future.

I Refuse to Make the Title of this Post "Shaken Not Stirred" -- Ooops

I can take or leave the James Bond stuff, but I do recognize that it is one of the key "points of entry" for many an Anglophile.

The franchise does have its charms. It sort of brings back the British supremacy from an earlier age. And I love anything with Dame Judy in it.

Daniel Craig (he's the same bloke from the remake of Casino Royale, which I missed) seems a perfect choice for this generation of 007. If I'm not mistaken, he's the first one born post-1960? He's not overly handsome, but he's just cool in a old-school Prisoner/Avenger kind of way.

And the title music is bloody fantastic. The Guardian gave us an early peak at the Coke advert featuring the song. That Jack White was a perfect fit for a tradition that includes everyone from Paul McCartney to Carly Simon -- just like Daniel Craig was the perfect fit. And White takes the assignment seriously, producing a classic Bond-y sound, but one you can tell was produced in this decade.

Hmm, maybe I like this Bond rubbish more than I reckoned?

Imagine

Remembering all victims of terrorism today, so no daft post.

It's corny, but, "imagine all the people sharing all the world."

Palin for President -- Michael Palin

Well, someone was enterprising enough to search through years-worth of clips to transform a funny coincidence into a clever little dig on the latest atrocity in politics. It's a fun way of dealing with a plot-twist so absurd even the Pythoners couldn't have thought of it, even in their prime.

Well done. But they did miss one important point: As one of the world's most famous travelers, our Palin has had a passport a little longer that last year, when Sarah first got hers!

Enjoy.

I'm So Proud

So the other day, my 9-year-old daughter announced that she could now speak with English accent.

What did she say to demonstrate?

"Tahn right, then tahn left."

Read this to find out why that was so cute.

The Who at Kilburn

One thing that's nice about being in the generation following the baby boom -- and one of the only nice things about it -- is that their cooler stuff is suddenly "classic" and classy.

For instance, I was flipping channels a couple nights ago and PBS was featurn a Who concert as part of their fundraising campaign. And not just any concert ...

Picture this: It's December 1977. The Who haven't played together in ages, but this documentary is being done about them, The Kids are Alright. They realize that they controlled filming around them so well that there really aren't any decent performances of their famous songs, like Baba O'Reilly and Won't Get Fooled Again recorded for posterity. So they decided to do one show in Kilburn, London. Of course, that ended up being one of Keith Moon's final performances.

When I found the concert, I wondered why it all looked so familiar. After all, the only other concert film I'd seen of the Who was the Isle of Wight concert and that's mostly Tommy and they're wearing really weird stuff. Entwhistle is dressed as a skeleton, if I remember.

Then I realized that it was so familiar because I saw the documentary all those years ago. But it's so much better just seeing the uncut concert footage. Daltry in that midriff tight blue striped T-shirt is pretty dated, but it brings back so many memories.

If you live in the U.S., look for this show on your PBS station. If not, they have a DVD available.

Is it Steve Coogan's Time?

Steve Coogan's all over the place lately: He has major roles in Tropic Thunder and Hamlet 2.

I find his tactic interesting. Rather than using America to spread his entrenched British success, he's looking at it as a fresh start. It's as if Great Britain has been tainted with all those Alan Partridge appearances (that's one of his characters). You won't see Alan Partridge here ... in fact, you probably won't see any of his uncanny impersonations (he does a fantastic Al Pacino) or any of his standup/music hall schtick.

Coogan's positioning himself an an A-level Hollywood comedic actor. Often, he leaves his accent at the gate at LAX.

I'm not making any comment about the wisdom of that strategy. I just think it would be great if he at least did an HBO special so we can get a taste of what our cousins have been enjoying for years now.

Talk About an Accent

My accent would probably be like John Barrowman's if I moved to England -- all bullocksed up.

I heard an interview with him on the Steve Wright in the Afternoon show. I didn't know what to expect. I had figured that he was like Jamie Bamber -- a Brit who does a great American accent. In fact, he's a little of everything.

His Captain Jack on Torchwood is obviously American, but in real life, he speaks pretty much the same way ... with a few "ana-thing"s and British grammar thrown in. Hey I'd do the same thing, surrounded by Brits 24/7.

According to Wikipedia, he's Glaswegian but spent his formative years in Joliet, Illinois and then he moved to England. So, like Madonna, I guess he can choose the accent that suits him.

Here he is having a bit of fun with accents on *Matthew* Wright's show:

The Ugly ... Briton?

On September 11, 2001, when nearly every important figure was being asked for a comment, the one that touched me most deeply was from a person for whom I previously had no great affection: Lady Margaret Thatcher. She said about Britons and Americans, "We are the same people."

But is that becoming more true that ever before?

According to this article in the New York Times, which came out while I was on holiday, British tourism is way up -- and while the locals are happy to take their pounds sterling, they're not so thrilled with the seeming disappearance of the famed English decorum. In fact, English holidaymakers are acting more like football hooligans from 1970s than the sterotypical upper-crust adventurers with their traveling tea sets.

The article puts forth a cartload of theories about what makes the British so boorish. And I've got a couple of my own. Unlike the supposedly polite Germans and French, we all speak the current lingua franca and can expect to be understood all over the world. So no matter what trouble we get in, we're bound to be able to talk our way out. What's more, in spite of recent missteps in the the Middle East, we're hardwired to have nothing to apologize for. It seems our two countries can do what they wish (for now) in the far-flung lands, but it's not like we caused World War II or set up up a Vichy government. This might also be the reason why our two peoples are known for having outrageous senses of humor ... again, nothing to apologize for.

Then there's the fact that most Britons aren't sleek stylemakers from London, but regular "folks" as we'd call them here. On The Office, Gervais and Merchant had the Dawn's unsophisticated lout/fiance, Lee, move to Florida ... I said to myself, "Of course."

So, as long as the pound is up and the dollar is down we're likely to hear more about that new breed ... the cousin of the ugly American ... the ugly Briton!

Footie Goes Fourth

Third week of English Premier football.

Seems like there were less games than usual ... perhaps because there was a bank holiday?

In any event, Chelsea tied 1-1 with Tottenham, which means they remain on top. They've gone for ages without a loss. Liverpool had a nil-nil with Aston Villa, so they get to stay toward the top of the table as well.

Surprisingly, it's Man City who's third in the rankings -- Man U is all the way at number 9, but then again, they didn't play this week. Apparently, City got an emotional boost from the announcement that their club was just purchased by Abu-Dabi and their own acquisition of the single-monikered Brazilian Robinho.

But counting out Manchester United is a fool's game. As this big transfer weekend concluded, they finally secured the amazing Bulgarian striker, Dimitar Berbatov. If this bloke stays healthy, Man U will be keeping their cup.

Jag-You-Are?

Mrs. Phonybrit doesn't care a whit about cars -- but when she does point one out, it's inevitably a Jag. The boys and girls in Coventry really know what they are doing.

My problem is that I'm getting so immersed in British culture that I just can't help using certain British pronunciations. I've always laughed at people who say, "I play the pee-ah-noh." But now I'm no better, with my Jaguars, Pyou-mahs, etc.

Have I dived down the rabbit hole?