A Breakup Letter To Thailand

Dear Thailand,

Our time together has been short, but neither of us can say it hasn't been memorable. You are undeniably beautiful and I must admit that I was completely taken with your cool, laid-back attitude. You've shown me incredible things, from your stunning cliffs to your sweet coconuts. We have had a wonderful time together, soaking in your emerald sea, laughing at the wild monkeys running across the hotel rooftops and, yes, even eating plenty of delicious foods that didn't poison me. But, as with all things, there was a darkness beneath the wonder that would inevitably come out - and this time it came out of both ends. I don't want to lay all the blame on you - though you do deserve most of it. I ignored warnings and gave in to temptations like your deep fried fish and mango salad, which - though delicious - turned out to be the catalyst for this message.

Thailand, you are not clean and I think that I and all your other visitors deserve to be notified. A deep fried fish and mango salad is much less appealing now that it has journeyed in more than one way through my digestive system at frankly unnatural speeds. Im writing this in bed feeling hollow, empty and betrayed. The pain you put me through is unfair, when I gave you nothing but love.

This is not the first time you have hurt me. My first day here you burned me and yet I still accepted you, accepted that it was simply your nature and I should have been more prepared for it. Do you hear me Thailand? I blamed myself for your abuse! Well I won't be doing that any more. This is it, Thailand. I've had enough of your shit. And, God knows, I've given you enough of mine. Well I can see you clearly now for what you are and it's time for a few uncomfortable truths, Thailand. I suggest you listen to them and take them to heart.

1. You smell. I mean you really stink, all the time. Like raw sewage and, well, bad fish. The two are probably connected. I suppose I even contributed a little of that to the bushes outside my cabin. I'll take the blame for that one, Thailand, but you're a big place and there are worse smells than what I left. Please get yourself seen to by a specialist.

2. You're not as cool as you think you are. Oh you put on a good show of it, and you've got everyone convinced, but deep down there's nothing really there. You brag about your "authenticity" with your shacks and your bad wiring and your comfy trousers and your (seemingly) fresh foods. But we all know it's just a show, put on to convince innocent travellers that they're getting a "real" experience.

3. You're lazy. You lean back on your good looks and you wave away anything else to pass yourself off as cool, easy and uncaring. But in the end, what do you really achieve, Thailand? A string of empty relationships with travellers who say they love you, but ultimately all go home.

Sort yourself out, Thailand, because there are plenty of other places out there who treat their visitors better, without abusing them and making them ill. I've seen pictures of Vietnam - that's right, your sister - and she is at least as beautiful as you. Or there are plenty of stunning, fun, clean places closer to home. I never had this problem with Spain. Or maybe, after all this, I'll just go home. Because home may be familiar, it may be cold, it may even be a little dull. But it's safe, Thailand. It's clean. It always takes me back and accepts me.

Goodbye Thailand. I will try to remember the good times we had, but I will not forget the pain and disgusting discomfort that you put me through in one fateful night. Maybe one day we can get together again, when we are older, stronger, more experienced and (in your case) disease free. But until that can happen, this is it for us.

Nick
X

A Guy I Kind Of Knew Died.

His name was Chris and he passed away earlier this week. I didn't know him very well. I only found out this morning - and only because it popped up on my facebook feed. Someone who knew him better than me had liked a comment made by someone who knew him better than her on a post that someone who knew him better than her had made. So I'm pretty far down the line as far as personal connections go. But I met him and spoke with him and knew him briefly at university. And now he's dead.

I'm not sure what to do with that information.

On my second week at university I joined the snowsports team and went out with them on their first social of the year. I didn't know anyone else on the team at the time, but it was the beginning of the year and one of the points of the night was to get to know everyone else. The other point was to get drunk. I probably met Chris in the club at some point during the evening, but I mostly just remember getting a taxi back at the end of the night. Everyone was leaving and splitting up in to various groups at the taxi stand, and he said his house was close to my halls so I went with him and another guy. We chatted on the way back and he mentioned that he and his housemate had a case of beer and asked if we'd like to carry on drinking back at his. So of course we both did and we went back to his house and sat in his living room playing stupid drinking games and making daft jokes. Everyone was really relaxed and friendly the whole night and it turned out to be a lot of fun. The sun was up when I finally left.

That was really the only time I spent with the guy. I saw him a couple of other times at team things or in the pub, and we'd say "Hi", but never really spoke much past that.

Other people knew him a lot better than I did, and I'm sure he meant much more to them than to me. To me he's really just someone I spent a night drinking with a few years ago. But he invited me round, and he was really friendly, really funny and really nice and it makes me very sad to think that he doesn't exist any more.

#EverydaySexism

A conversation I semi-regularly have with people I don't know that well:

Person: "How long have you and your girlfriend been together Nick?"
Me: "About 6 years."
"Ooh. Any plans to get married?"
"Ha. No, we're not planning on it."
"I bet she wants to though."
"Nope."
"Oh, of course you think she doesn't, but she really does. You'd better hurry up, she's not going to wait around forever you know."
"No, she really doesn't want to get married right now. Neither of us do."
"Of course she does! Trust me."

So you think that:
(A) You know my girlfriend, who I've been with for six years, better than I do - even though you've never met her - because;
(B) as a man, I am too dumb to understand that;
(C) all women want to get married as soon as possible, but just won't admit it.

And (A) means that you have to inform me of this, otherwise she will leave me because of (C) and I won't understand why, due to (B).

Well it's a good job you know your stereotypes better than I know my girlfriend.

Progression

An average day at 14.

Arrive at school for 9 am. 

You will begin the day by reading Shakespeare for an hour, and discussing his use of language, ensuring you take detailed notes on everything that is said. After a short break you will go in to a different room where you will spend an hour speaking and writing in French. Then you will be given a series of increasingly complex equations to solve until lunchtime. 

After lunch you will look at diagrams of World War One trenches, and précis a chapter of a text book in to a short essay on soldiers' conditions. Then you will create spreadsheets full of fictional information, which you will present as a range of different graphs and charts. Finally you will get changed and play a quick game of rugby before the day is over.

Finish at 3:45 pm.

You will be given extra work on each topic of the day to be completed in your own time. You are encouraged to take part in any of a range of extra-curricular activities available in your spare time.

Tomorrow will involve:

An hour spent speaking and writing in German. An exploration of the origins of Judaism. A continuation of a term-long project to design and build a small wooden toy. A collection of poems to be read and analysed, line by line, with a full written description of what each one "means". More equations to be solved. 

An average day at 24.

Arrive at work for 9 am.

You will read and respond to a few emails regarding the sale of bedsheets. You will print off some labels, stick them to parcels of bedsheets and then move the parcels from the warehouse to reception for collection. You will check that listings for all bedsheets being sold online are up to date, and fix any issues you encounter. 

You may be required to print a few other things, or move some other boxes. 

Anything you are asked to do will revolve around the sale of bedsheets.

Finish at 5 pm.

Tomorrow will involve:

The same. 

Introducing The Marikar Scale

As humans we are storytellers. From going home and telling your partner/parents about your day; to thrilling your friends in the pub with the tale of that time you fought off fifteen ninjas while handcuffed to a pipe, we love to tell stories. Unfortunately we're not all good at it. We've all been there when a friend or acquaintance has been carefully explaining the finer details of a story we're just not interested in. Or a story that starts well but goes nowhere.

A few years ago my friend Preston and I were told one these terrible anecdotes by a pale faced, lanky friend of ours named Matthew Fear. Inspired by this exercise in insipidness, we developed the Marikar scale - a way to rate the banality of your friends stories and anecdotes.

We named the scale after our old Biology teacher Mr Marikar: the subject of Fear's story who, at the time, was due to leave for a school in Manchester - the same city Fear would be moving to the following year. As I write this I'm suddenly struck by the unfairness of attributing the scale to Mr Marikar - who, as merely the subject of the tale, probably doesn't deserve to have his name immortalised as a measurement of dull anecdotes.

The Marikar scale goes from 1 to 10. 1 would be an engaging, enjoyable anecdote that you would happily hear again. Fear's story, still the most pointless story I've ever heard, is a full 10. The complete, unabridged tale goes like this:

"I saw Mr Marikar the other day. He said to me 'I'll see you in Manchester.' 
And I said 'OK.'"

Anything that is more interesting, entertaining or informative than that story gets a lower mark. Anything less interesting, entertaining or informative than that story doesn't actually exist.

Use the Marikar scale next time someone tells you a story. And consider it the next time you start one. Remember, anything above a 5 isn't worth telling. Your friends will thank you.

The Riddle of my Employment

In September 2013 I had two interviews for a 3 month job with a textile wholesale company in Manchester. For purposes of this story let's call the company "Manchester Textiles*". I was interviewed by a lady called Valerie, who was to be my manager if I got the role. The interview went well and I had a positive feeling about my chances of getting the job. I then went three months without hearing anything.

In December I was told that the company had gone in to administration and been significantly downsized to a staff of just 7 people. They'd also moved to smaller offices in the town of Haslingden. Nevertheless they still wanted me and asked me to start in January, on a permanent basis.

When I started I learned that the company had been bought back from the administrators by the original directors, but had been renamed "Haslingden Bedding". After rebranding, the company sold off the last of its old product ranges and I was to focus solely on the new 2014 collection of duvet covers and pillowcases.

Two days after I started Valerie moved to Australia. She told me she'd still be involved in the company and would still work closely with me through emails and skype. I received two emails from her in the couple of weeks following this, and then nothing.

In April I was called in to the boardroom and told that Haslingden Bedding had been sold to another company that operated out of the same building. Though the Haslingden Bedding brand was to continue, it would now be a subsidiary of Mill Textiles. The existing directors would become silent partners with no input in to the day-to-day running of the company.

So that's (A) a permanent role in (B) a different town, for (C) a different brand with (D) a smaller staff, owned by (E) a different company, where I work with (F) a different product range, and have nothing to do with (G) the original directors or (H) the person who conducted the interview and hired me.


So my question is:

At which point did I start a job that I didn't interview for?




*All names of people and companies have been changed in the interest of not pissing off my employers (whoever the hell they are).

The Age Of Parrots - Epilogue (Or: A More Optimistic Note To End On)

"We seldom realise, for example that our most private thoughts and emotions are not actually our own. For we think in terms of languages and images which we did not invent, but which were given to us by our society."

- Alan Wilson Watts.

My Age of Parrots series was originally intended to have 3 parts, but when I got to the end of it I found that there were a few more interesting points that I'd been unable to get to. I didn't want to do a full "Part 4" for these points, because I think the other three covered all the major areas that I wanted to talk about. But I also didn't want to lose them. So this piece should serve as a kind of epilogue to the series, a bit of further reading as opposed to a chapter itself.

First a quick recap:
Part 1 - In which I looked at the term "Grammar Nazi" and how, even though it makes little sense, it has become a well known and accepted phrase. This is just one of many words and phrases that just get picked up in modern culture by people repeating them without giving any thought to what they are saying.

Part 2 - In which I looked at the Harlem Shake meme - in which people would upload videos of them dancing to a song in exactly the same fashion as millions of others. It's almost an attack on creativity the way that videos like this will become insanely popular, and get a ludicrous amount of views even though they present nothing new or interesting. People see something that they like, so they do that exact thing. And others still seem to like it.

Part 3 - In which I looked at the effects of all of this. How repeating memes and stupid phrases so much throughout popular culture means that we refuse to recognise something that doesn't include those things. They get forced in to places they don't belong, where they'll then be discussed with more passion and more detail than the thing they were forced in to.

It's interesting to me that a lot of people will not agree with the things that I've said in this series of essays. They might argue that copying things in the way that I've been complaining about is really just joining in. By talking the way others do they establish a shorthand, a connection between people. Why does it matter how they say things as long as everyone involved can understand? Similarly, by repeating memes, they're becoming part of something bigger and more exciting. They're joining in with other people. In cases like Harlem Shake they're getting friends and colleagues together to all do something silly as a group. It's harmless and fun, and what's wrong with that?

And it's hard to argue with that, because it would be like telling people that they're having fun wrong. It just seems ridiculous. But when you try and look at these things objectively it's hard not to wonder about them, and it's hard not to wonder about the effects of them. And there will always be people who see these things in different ways. People who will say and do stupid things to be part of a group, and people who will look at the group and not understand why they'd want to be part of it. And you can argue that it's all just fun, and that being included is better than sneering in from the outside. But when you come across a person who everyone is convinced is "just so funny" when all he does is shout Anchorman quotes at you, it's hard to be in the group that supports him.

___________________________________________

Something I wanted to go in to in every part of the series, that I had to leave out each time because I always felt it would take too much attention away from the main thesis of the individual essays, is the argument that we've always been doing these things for as long as we've had a society. The English language is a mongrel bastardisation of several much older languages, that has developed massively over centuries of people picking and choosing the way they want to say and write things, and by copying the way other people do it. And the creative output of the modern world, at least in part is based around copying concepts as basic as the three act structure or the twelve bar blues. On the less positive side, you can't talk about people mindlessly copying the words and thoughts of others without your thoughts straying to religion and the effect that it's had over the world*.

My point is that maybe the Age of Parrots isn't a recent thing. Maybe it's not just something you come across on the internet, but something that has shaped the entirety of our cultural history. Maybe now that technology has enabled us to connect to each other, it becomes more noticeable. We may parrot to a greater extent, but we also get tired of it much more quickly. The part of this series that looked at the Harlem Shake, for example, is already dated because we - as a society - are already over that particular meme. Maybe we're not looking at the beginning of the Age of Parrots. Maybe we're not even looking at the continuation of the Age of Parrots. Maybe, now that we can see what's happening more clearly, now that we can understand the way these things play out, and now that we can actually get over these things in a matter of weeks, we are actually looking at the end of the Age of Parrots. An age that's been going on for as long as we have.

And that's a nice thought.



*Now might be a good moment to take a break from this and listen to John Lennon's "Imagine". 

The Age Of Parrots, Part 3 (Or: Why You Shouldn't Read Comments Sections).

Read Part 1 and Part 2.

"I've been imitated so well I've heard people copy my mistakes."

- Jimi Hendrix

There was a recent article on the BBC website about gap year volunteers, and whether they do more harm than good. It was an interesting article and the writer, Daniela Papi, clearly put a lot of work in to providing a strong, detailed case about a topic she cared about. What I found strange about the piece though was the headline: "Is 'Gap Yah' Volunteering A Bad Thing?"*. Just in case you were confused by the title, the website helpfully added a panel to the side of the article that explained the premise of the popular 2010 sketch, including an explanation of the central jokes - so you know why you're supposed to be laughing, even if you still don't quite get it. Apparently the BBC is now that annoying friend who always interrupts stories to tell you about a new Youtube clip that you have to watch as soon as you get a chance (because, oh my god, you have to see it, it's SO funny). Nowhere else in the article is it referred to as a gap "yah", and the article itself does not mention or refer to the gap yah sketch. So why is it presented this way in the headline?

It's common knowledge that journalists do not usually write headlines to their own articles - this is left to the copy editor or layout designer - and from the content and tone of the piece in question I do not expect that Papi would have used the term "Gap Yah" in her title, had she written it herself. So what's happened is that someone has actually decided that the best way to draw readers to this considered, serious piece of writing is with a reference to to a three year old comedy sketch. Is this really necessary? Do we need to know that an article will feature a familiar punchline before we'll click on it? Will we only read things if we think they have something to do with a funny video that we've seen before?

In this series I've tried to highlight ways in which people unthinkingly copy others - we change the way we speak to take on terms that others use, we find entertainment and creative satisfaction in making facsimiles of other peoples output - and given the trend a name. But now I want to look deeper. I want to look at the effects of this.

Because I found the titling of the aforementioned article so strange, I went to the comments section to see if anyone else had pointed it out**. The top comment was from a man named Richard Gledhill, who said "The problem is with any person whom pronounces it a 'Gap Yah' it really is as simple as that. A gap year is time out to travel between life stages. A Gap Yah is a time for pretentious pillocks to spend mummy and daddies inherited wealth." Richard Gledhill is a man with strong, and sometimes controversial, views on things like third generation inheritance and the correct usage of the word "whom", and feels that we should all be aware that as long as you don't talk like people in a comedy sketch, you can do what you like. Richard Gledhill also feels that reading more than the title of an article is not necessary before commenting on it.

Similarly - and I'm sorry if it seems like I'm always attacking people who say mean things about me but it fits nicely - some cowardly dimwit who didn't leave a name commented on the first article of this series to inform me that Nazi really meant fascist and that the rules of grammar were just a viewpoint held by a few people who try to force it on everyone else. Now not only is this person clearly an idiot for thinking either of these things, but also I think it was pretty clear that the point of the piece wasn't that I was confused about the existence of a punctuation holocaust. It was - well - the parrot thing.

Now neither of these internet comments involve copying other people, but each is part of the deeper problem. Both Richard Gledhill and Nameless Twerp publicly commented on an online article without at any point referencing the main thesis of the piece. Neither took the time to consider what the author was actually trying to say; what was more important to both was sharing their own pessimistic, reactionary views. And both of them defended the use of the terms they did reference. NT attempted to widen the definitions of the individual words in "Grammar Nazi" in order to protect the phrase's right to exist. And Richard Gledhill supports the usage of the phrase "Gap Yah", because it allows him to identify people he hates. Both of them cared this deeply about a pair of phrases that only came in to existence in the last decade. And of course the original copy editor of the BBC editor promoted the phrase in the title of the piece - despite its associations having nothing to do with the article it preceded.

This is where the Age of Parrots becomes dangerous. Not just for the people mindlessly copying everything, but for the people who exist in a world full of those copies. People become so used to seeing them everywhere they look that they don't recognise anything around them. Half the world are putting old covers on new books, while other half won't open the books because they don't like the covers.

The Age of Parrots affects everyone. It represses logical thought. It drowns creativity. And it forces the simplification of everything to it's lowest, most basic form.





*It appears that, since I started writing this piece, the BBC have changed the wording in the title to now say "Gap Year". I won't speculate on what made them change this, I'm just glad they decided to. Even if it makes my article look silly. The description of the sketch is still on there.

**It says something about the state of the internet when I feel that I have to make excuses for why I would read comments on a news website. Or maybe it just says something about me. It's hard to be sure.

The Age Of Parrots, Part 2 (Or: Why I Hate The Internet)

Read Part 1 here. 

"It seems to me that more and more we've come to expect less and less from each other, and that's got to change."

Aaron Sorkin 

 In August 2010 I wrote an article on this blog called "The Mad Men Drinking Game". As an actual game it was as poorly thought out as it was terribly written, and was never a piece that I was particularly proud of. But just over a month ago I found out that someone had discovered my stupid drinking game while (presumably) searching the internet for Mad Men articles before the new season began, and had posted it to Reddit. Suddenly this silly little article that I wrote three years ago was being read and commented on by people on the internet. And they didn't all hate it!

The reason I'm telling you this is because at the time that was a huge thing for me. This was an article that I had completely forgotten existed that had been found by a stranger who enjoyed it enough to share it with other strangers, 83% (according to Reddits voting system) of whom considered reading it to be not a complete waste of time. 17 people commented on it and discussed it as if this was a real game that I had really invented with the intention of playing, and I wanted to meet and talk to and thank every one of them for treating this as something written by a real writer. This was really, genuinely exciting for me.

Now I'd like to show you this:



That's a Harlem Shake video. It's not the original. It's not even one of the first ten Harlem Shake videos made. It's probably not even one of the first hundred Harlem Shake videos made. It is just one of over 40,000 Harlem Shake videos that were uploaded in February 2013*. And it has 30 million views. Thirty Million. And it's not even the highest viewed. A Harlem Shake video made by the Norwegian army currently has EIGHTY-ONE-GODDAMN-HARLEM-SHAKING-MILLION VIEWS. For one video. And even that was not the original.

And I was excited about 17 comments.

How many individuals have had to watch this video how many times for it to reach 30 million views? How many times can one person watch this video without getting sick of it? And how many other Harlem Shake videos have the people who contributed to that figure already seen?

Making a Harlem Shake video is like going on stage at a comedy club open mic night to tell the same joke as the guy who was on before you, and expecting the audience to like you more because you did it while wearing a hat. And the guy before you was telling the same joke as the guy before him, but waving a golf club at the same time. And this has happened forty thousand times, with a joke that wasn't even that good to begin with.

A man dances while everyone else in the room ignores him, then the beat changes and we jump cut to the same shot, but now everyone's dancing in different ways with previously unseen props. OK the quick transition is kind of funny the first time, but it's essentially the same on every one of the Harlem Shake videos on Youtube. Yes, the location and the people involved are different, and there are variations on the props and wacky dances, but come on. It's the same joke. Forty thousand times.

All of those people. All of those forty thousand people with cameras and internet connections and Youtube accounts and the ability to round up enough friends and colleagues to participate in these things. What if all of those people had put just a little bit more thought in to what they were doing and decided to create something new? Something that wasn't just a direct copy of someone else's video? Something that wasn't a rip-off of someone else's joke? Why is it OK to put time and effort in to perfectly replicating something created by someone else, and why is it OK to watch and share all of those copies as if each is individually entertaining?

I've been focussing on the Harlem Shake, but this is true of all memes. Whether it's a sarcastic comment pasted over a picture of Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka, a club full of people doing the Gangnam style dance, or a Rage Guy cartoon - we're putting more effort in to copying someone else's ideas than creating anything ourselves.

What's more is that many of these don't acknowledge the original in any way. I didn't know which Harlem Shake was the first until I looked it up on Wikipedia. There was certainly nothing on Youtube that helped me find it. In fact there are quite a few different videos online that claim in their title to be the "Original Harlem Shake". Do you know who made the first Rage Guy cartoon? Do you know where the condescending Wonka, or the squinting Fry started? Do you know where the Chuck Norris facts came from? Maybe if you've lived on 4chan since 2003, but for most people these are just ubiquitous internet jokes to be adopted by anyone.

It's not just that the creators of these things are missing out by not having their name attached to each copy. I doubt "Filthy Frank" (who uploaded the first Harlem Shake) is complaining about the 40,000 variations of his video. It's the attitude of the consumer. We don't care who Filthy Frank is, we only care that people see the version that we made. Because you can be damn sure that every single person who made a follow up video shared it on Facebook, Twitter, blogs and anywhere else they could so that everyone they knew could see how funny they were. No-one made these just for the fun of making them. They made them so that they could get the same attention as everyone else, and each one feels entitled to the millions of page views that the others got, even though they've contributed nothing new to the joke. They want to be credited with doing something funny on the internet, but that doesn't mean they'd ever credit the guy they're stealing from.

I began this piece by talking about another blog post that I wrote in 2010. The reason for this isn't because I wish that piece had the same success as that Harlem Shake video, because I don't (I can't stress enough how stupid I think the piece is). It's because at least this is something I created. At least I put some thought and effort in to it. At least it's original. And when one person decides to share it, or seventeen people comment on it, then I can be happy that someone liked something I made. Not just something I copied from someone else.

The people who created the Harlem Shake deserve to feel great about their stupid video, because an unimaginable number of people loved it enough to even love cheap copies of it. But the people who made the video posted above? They don't deserve anything. They got 30 million views, and they didn't do a damn thing to earn it.

In the age of parrots an unoriginal work can be watched 30 million times. A video can be mimicked over 40,000 times in 10 days, with each copy being uploaded and shared online. And we fully expect to experience the same level of success as someone else by directly copying their work.



In the interest of sharing some original work, and because I now have a Harlem Shake video on my blog and feel terrible about that, here's a great video from BriTANicK that is far, far better and far, far funnier than the Harlem Shake and most other things.






In Part 3 I look at the ramifications of The Age of Parrots, and why we act this way.




*Over 40,000 Harlem Shake videos were uploaded between the 5th and the 15th February 2013 [source: http://youtube-trends.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/the-harlem-shake-has-exploded.html]. At the time of writing, searches for "Harlem Shake" on Youtube show 8,240,000 results. Many of these, however, appear to be repostings and compilations of already-existing Harlem Shakes (which, if anything, strengthens my overall point). No information appears to be available at this time to determine how many individual Harlem Shake videos currently exist online.

The Age of Parrots, Part 1 (Or: How To Insult All Your Friends In One Blog Post).

Carl: Homer, if it weren't for you, we'd be at the mercy of weekend philatelists.
Lenny: You know, why didn't you just say stamp collectors?
Carl: 'Cause I'm tired of dumbing myself down for you.

The Simpsons - The Little Girl Who Slept Too Little 

While planning an event in a recent Facebook message thread a friend of mine excused himself by writing "Sorry guys n gals Im in leed's"[sic]. Those of you who aren't illiterate should be groaning right now. Naturally I could not let the incredible stupidity of this apostrophe misuse slide (though I did let him off the "n", because sometimes three letter words are too much effort even for the best of us), and I pointed it out to him. For this I was called a Grammar Nazi.

Don't worry, this isn't going to be a long complaint about someone calling me names. And it's not going to be a thousand word exploration of the phrase "sticks and stones". The intent - though misplaced, and we'll come to that in a later post - doesn't bother me in that way, mostly because it's exactly the sort of response I was aiming for. I'm not going to pretend that I spent the rest of the message thread pointing out his grammatical mistakes and telling him that he should stop being wrong because I was trying to teach him a lesson or because I deeply cared about his mastery of the English Language. I was doing it because I knew it was annoying him and I knew he'd keep rising to it and, well, it was too funny to not do it.

But I'd like to look at the phrase "Grammar Nazi". A term that - to the best of my knowledge - originated on the internet* and has been picked up by web users to become a commonplace term for anyone who takes it upon themselves to point out spelling and grammar errors made by other people. The earliest definition on Urban Dictionary - as reliable a place as any for web-based phrases - comes from November 2002 and describes the Grammar Nazi as "someone who is addicted to the correct usage of the English language...". Since that time there have been thirty-one more definitions added to the term, because Urban Dictionary is ridiculous. Not one of those definitions explain what the word "Nazi" is doing there. There is no etymological information to let us know when "Nazi" became synonymous with "addicted to the correct usage of...". It is objectively a meaningless phrase and this is where my issue lies.

This is not an unusual case. As a society we adopt the language and terms of our peers, picking up colloquialisms and accents along the way. Now that the internet has increased the range of people we interact with every day by an incredible degree, terms and phrases such as this are picked up by more people at a quicker rate than ever before. Soon they become part of the daily lexicon of people who have never considered what they're actually saying. And phrases like "Grammar Nazi" become commonplace.

It shouldn't be unusual to consider the meanings behind these things. It shouldn't have to be pointed out to someone that a term they use on a daily basis doesn't actually make sense. And it especially shouldn't be common practice for someone to ignore the literal meaning of what they say and continue to use it in the same nonsensical way, regardless. The internet gives us new words and phrases every day. It's time to start thinking about them before using them.

Why is someone who corrects grammar a "Nazi"? Why is a night out "cheeky"? Why the person responsible for something you approve of a "lad"? Why is "fail" now a noun? And why, why, why does a picture or description of your dinner have to be followed with "omnomnom"**?

This is the age of parrots. And it will continue until we learn to think about what we're saying. 

In Part 2 I look at the way the age of parrots has affected our creative endeavours online, from original works to viral videos to memes.

*Feel free to let me know if I'm wrong about this. It would be interesting to see if the term was in use before the internet.

**This is something that especially needs to die. Mostly because of the image it conjures of the person who wrote it opening their mouth as wide as possible between chews as they spray their greasy, mushy food all over the table while inviting you to stare down their throat at whatever stayed in being digested in their swollen, flabby stomachs. Just...stop it.

Something that may someday be used somewhere.

The following is a quick passage that I wrote a while ago that I'm not sure what to do with yet. When I started it was going to be a voice-over piece in a possible film/play/tv show. Then after a while I adapted it to potentially be the introduction to a short story. And now it just sort of is.
So I'm putting it here so that it can at least look like it fulfils some sort of purpose. It's just a short passage that doesn't go anywhere and doesn't do anything other than introduce some one-note character, that I'm still too fond of to delete (I have far too many things like this). Enjoy.

Harry was a professional arguer. At least he would be if such a profession existed. That's what he claimed anyway. I tried to explain to him once that both "politician" and "lawyer" would technically fit under the heading "professional arguer" but he argued against it so passionately that I had to give in. Then I reflected back on the conversation and made the same observation I had started with and the whole thing began again.

The real reason he could never use his skill for arguing in a useful manner was that he would never argue about anything important. The more irrelevant a topic was; the stronger his argument would be. And please note that I do not say "debate". Harry never debated. Harry argued. Violently and explosively. If his opponent wasn't left physically exhausted, then Harry wasn't finished yet. I once went at it with him for two hours, only for it to turn out that we'd both been trying to make the same point. The instant this realisation struck us Harry changed his point of view, just so we could carry on.

Why did he do it? I'll never know. Maybe he got a rush from verbally attacking peoples beliefs in irrelevant topics. Maybe he legitimately wanted to show people the other side of every story. Maybe it was just the only thing he was good at.

Why did I join in with him? Hell, what else did I have to do?

What I did on my Summer Holidays, by Nicholas Withers. Age 22.

This is a short video I made to show off my holiday in La Herradura, Spain. I decided that normal holiday videos weren't dramatic enough and I wanted to do something overly pretentious and put an Einaudi track over it.

The 7 Worst Things About Being Unemployed

Because I enjoy whining over writing things with any substance this article isn't about making any political or socio-economical points. It's purely about things that are annoying me right now. Because I'm a fan of Cracked, and kind of a hack, it's also in list form.

The 7 things that are currently most annoying me about not having a job are:

A Point Of Grammar.

Basic Tenses:

I sat = Past tense
I am sitting = Present tense

I'm sat = WRONG!



STOP IT!

Untitled Short Story

You know the feeling when the instant you wake up you're already somehow aware that something's wrong? I'm talking about the very split second you wake. Before you've opened your eyes. Before you've rolled over. Before you even know that you're awake; you know that something is wrong. It's a feeling that must come to you while you're still asleep; must infect your dreams in some way that lets you know, like a private air raid siren, that when you wake up something just won't be right.


This is the feeling I have right now.

Decisions Decisions

This picture asked the question "Which would you pick", allowing you to choose two fictional items from a list that includes:

Portal Gun (Portal)

Elder Wand (Harry Potter)

Lightsaber (Star Wars)

The One Ring (Lord Of The Rings)

Deathnote (Deathnote)

Green Lantern Power Ring (Green Lantern)

Everlasting Gobstopper (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)

The Red Pill (The Matrix)

Cursed Pirate Medallion (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Pokeball (Pokemon)

There were conditions brought up (ie. With Pokeball you would only have one pokemon of your choice that you would have to train from level one, with Pirate Medallion there is no chest to return it to, with One Ring Sauron and his minions do not exist and are not hunting you etc.) which can all be seen by following the link above. 

I instantly decided I would take the Portal Gun, because that would be awesome. But then I was stumped. I ruled out Pirate Medallion (because who wants to be cursed?), One Ring (because who wants to be corrupted?) Red Pill (because who wants to live in a dystopian world where you are always at risk of being killed by robots?), Everlasting Gobstopper (because it looked pointy and would hurt the roof of your mouth as you suck on it forever) and Deathnote (because I don't know what it is), and then (reluctantly) crossed off lightsaber because I simply don't think I'd have much use for it in real life once the novelty wore off. That then left me with three options to choose between. Three fictional items of extraordinary power. How can I make this decision?

With a Pros and Cons list of course!

Pokemon

Pros:

If have Charizard, can fly on its back.

Can burn enemies.

Can use ghost pokemon to scare people.

Mr Mime good at housework – useful.

Jigglypuff would ensure a good nights sleep every night.

Cons:

No evidence that anyone else has Pokemon. How do you train them up?

Dog fighting illegal.

Don’t have enemies.

Knowledge of Pokemon limited to original 150. Might not make best decision.

If picked something silly like Alakazam, would quickly run out of useable spoons.

Opening myself up to more decisions. Would always be questioning whether I chose the right Pokemon.

Green Lantern Ring

Pros:

Can produce pretty much anything.

Can fly.

Can go in to space.

Cons:

Would forget to charge it up. Would probably run out of power while in space.

Foiled by anything yellow.

Silly skintight suit.

Green ring's a bit gay.

Elder Wand

Pros:

Easy to find things (Accio Car Keys!)

Can fly (Wingardium Leviosa)

Even if summoning keys doesn’t work, can open locks anyway (Alohamora)

Can duel with enemies.

Cons:

Don’t have enemies.

Might be murdered for it.
Easy to break.

Can’t remember any more spells. 

2011 - A Summary

As December closes it's common to see articles and programmes rounding up the experiences of the past 12 months, looking for ways to sum up the events of the year to give future historians an easier job. As we reach the end of 2011, many of these are talking about this as "The Year That Lots Happened".

Informative though that title may be, what may be a better way to sum up the past year would be "2011 - The Year Society Reached New Lows".

When we look back at 2011, what will we really remember? The Royal Wedding and the death of Steve Jobs will certainly stand out as two events that - for very different reasons - brought people together and demonstrated that there is still a spark of decency, community and affection amongst the populous. Other notable deaths - those, for example, of various enemies of the West: Bin Laden, Ghaddafi, Kim Jong Il - prompted less inspiring reactions. Some celebrated, not always in appropriate ways. Some took to their high horses to lecture everyone on why we should still honour and respect the passing of brutal dictators and terrorist plotters who sent thousands to early graves for their own pointless, selfish reasons. And most just made snarky jokes on twitter and facebook and forwarded them on to their friends.

And then we come to those other big stories of the year. Those stories that make you look at society and have to swallow the shame vomit crawling past your tonsils.

Phone hacking and super-injunctions. Two sides of the same filth encrusted penny. On the one hand we condemn the News Of The World and all of Murdochs minions for hacking in to phones, stealing voicemail messages and spreading the shit they find there all over their papers. How dare they go so low as to intrude on peoples private lives just to get a story. On the other we condemn those that take out super-injunctions to prevent anyone reporting on their secret affairs. How dare they try and hide their sordid lives from us.

When a celebrity tries to hide from what they've done and prevent their story being told in the press, we take to twitter in armies and rat them out so everyone knows who they are. When a journalist tries to find these stories using certain methods we force a 138 year old paper to stop printing.

This double standard isn't even the worst part. Look at the source of each of these issues. The stories that are being told or hidden from them. These aren't important. Super-injunctions aren't being used to hide political scandals. Phone hacking isn't being used to unveil paedophile rings. The biggest thing revealed by a failed super-injunction was that Ryan Giggs had sex with some girl from Big Brother. And we're all sitting at our laptops patting ourselves on the backs for being able to beat the system and spread this story around.

We completely missed the point. The story there shouldn't have been "Ryan Giggs had an affair and then tried to hide it from the public". It should have been "Ryan Giggs had an affair and then FELT THAT HE HAD TO TRY AND HIDE IT FROM THE PUBLIC because apparently we've decided as a society that who a footballer's fucking is something that we should all care about". And with the year being taken up by stories of these super-injunctions and phone hacking enquiries, it never seems to occur to us that maybe if we just grew the hell up and stopped thinking that this is the sort of inane, unimportant bullshit that we should focus on, neither of these things will be an issue. We forget that the people writing these stories aren't the evil ones, forcing us to pay attention to this crap - they work for us. We tell them we want stories of celebrities behaving badly and they oblige. This, right now, is the point where we should realise that we've gone too far and we seriously need to reassess the kind of stories we want.

But that's not happening. We're just going to keep finding new ways to get around injunctions, and force journalists to find new ways of spying on people just so we can find out who one of the droopy mouthed morons from Geordie Shore is banging behind the scenes.

And then we come to the final big story of the year which is, of course, the riots across the country. A time when, for seemingly no reason at all, great tribes of twats adopted a "Monkey See, Monkey Do" attitude across the country and looted, burned and trashed various city centres - proving themselves to be the stupidest, most awful piles of scum on the planet. The end of the summer was then spent trying to decifer just how this had happened, and what the point of it was. Were the riots politically motivated? Was it to make a socio-economic point? Was it out of necessity?

As it turned out, people were rioting because they were morons. The very worst of humanity rose up and rioted purely because someone had failed to realise that they should have been drowned at birth.

So that's 2011. We finally went too far with our addiction to idiotic celebrity gossip - and then continued. We recognised the behaviours of the worst of our journalists - and learned nothing from it. And we were terrorised by our own people - and were unable to catch them all, lock them up in the Jeremy Kyle studios and set the place on fire. We then sat back and allowed our television channels to fill up with nonsensical, intellectually offensive "scripted reality" shows, let the charts fill up with previously pleasant songs remixed in to garbled, robotic messes of sound and tweeted racist jokes about dead leaders.

2011 is the year that brought out the very worst in society, and all signs show that we're not planning on making ourselves any better in 2012.

What's On Television?

I watch a lot of television. A Lot. More television than I actually have time for. My Sky+ box is almost full with programmes that I've yet to get round to watching. Recently I had to delete the entire second series of Treme from it, on the realisation that I simply didn't have the time to sit through the ten hours (without adverts) of post Katrina blues drama that had built up in my planner.

But I started wondering about it. With everything I watch - which shows do I actually care about?

I got an email from my friend Dexter earlier, that ended with the question "Have you seen Life's Too Short yet?" I had, and I proceeded to explain to Dexter that, though I have been a big fan of Gervais and Merchant in the past - and had been  looking forward to this programme for some time, I was ultimately disappointed by it. I found it thin, derivative and - aside from the scene with Liam Neeson - simply not very funny. But I ended my message by assuring him that I would still continue to watch the rest of the series in the hope that it would improve.

Does this seem like strange behaviour to you? After watching the first episode, and deciding I didn't like it, why would I continue to dedicate time to watching this programme? Maybe it will get better as it goes on, but there's an equal chance that it won't, so why not just cut my losses now and stop watching?

When I thought more about this, I thought about other programmes that I have continued to sit through, despite being fully aware of their lack of quality. With the exception of Treme, I can't think of another television show that I've completely given up on in the midst of a series (a fact made twice as sad when I reflect that Treme really is very good - I'll have to get the box set in the Summer). I remember when Lost was coming to an end, there were so many people who said "Oh I thought it got silly after the second season, so I stopped watching it then." I've never done this. Even programmes like Heroes, that were obviously getting worse as they progressed, I kept watching religiously right until the cancellation point in the hope that they would improve. I've loudly complained about the lack of quality in The Simpsons in the last few years, but I still watch all the new episodes when they're shown on TV.

Maybe television addiction is a real thing. Or maybe I just need to find other things to do. For whatever reason, it's a rare thing for me to say goodbye to a television show before it's come to an end, or been cancelled.

And when I think of this, I think of all the programmes I watch at the moment. If they were cancelled tomorrow, how many of them would I really be bothered about losing? Off the top of my head I can only think of a handful of programmes that I'd be genuinely upset if I knew there was never going to be another episode:

Frozen Planet (of which there's only about three or four more episodes anyway)
Mad Men (which hasn't been on since October 2010 and won't be back until an unspecified time next year).
Doctor Who
The Simpsons (though this is more because I want to see it continue is reign of longevity than because I enjoy the new episodes)

That's it.
There are other programmes I enjoy watching, but I'm not as bothered about them ending as I would be for those above, or as I was for Lost, Friends, Scrubs or Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.

It's sad really. All that time I've spent on these programmes. And really it's all been wasted. It's like going to your favourite restaurant - one that you've been to hundreds of times before - and realising that you don't really like the food there.

I know I should just stop. But I won't.

My Breakdown After Dealing With The Breakdown Service

The other day, my brother informed me that his car had a flat tire, that he'd called the RAC to come and fix it and that he was going out. I was sad, happy and proud of him at that time. Happy that he was going out, sad that his car had a flat tire, and proud that he'd already found a way to resolve his car troubles. I was also a little confused about why he was informing me of these things, but that only lasted until his next sentence.

"So when the RAC guy gets here, can you give him my keys?"

Of course I could! I could definitely be responsible for that job. I'm a sophisticated, intelligent twenty something. Acknowledging the RAC man and handing over some keys was a positively simple job for me, and one that I knew I would handle confidently and professionally. I assured him that I was up to the task and took the all important keys from him, leaving him to go out and enjoy his thriving social life while I remained at home watching Simpsons repeats. 

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang. Before opening it, without even looking, I knew that this would be the aforementioned man from the RAC. It was just like instinct or something - some ingrained sense built in to our evolutionary pattern that lets you instantly know that the person at your door is exactly the person you've been expecting all evening. The human mind is truly an amazing thing.

I readied myself. This was the moment. I knew it. I made sure I had the keys in my hand and I answered the door with the appropriate gusto. The plan went without a hitch. Within mere minutes the man from the RAC had my brothers car keys and was already at work fixing the problem. I patted myself on the back for a job well done, treated myself to a penguin biscuit and sat down to continue my third Simpsons episode of the evening (it was the one where Homer and Flanders get married in Las Vegas - a classic).

A short time later the doorbell rang again. The RAC man was back after successfully finishing his work on my brothers car. I congratulated him on a job well done, and signed the form he held out to confirm that he had completed his work to a satisfactory standard. I considered offering a gold star sticker to it, like I always got in school for my good work, but wasn't sure if we had any available and feared disappointing the man if we didn't. I stayed quiet on the matter. 

I considered the task my brother gave me complete, when the man suddenly revealed a hitherto unmentioned part of the job. He asked if I would be willing to complete a short survey on his special RAC touchscreen-computer-tablet-thing about the evenings dealings. 

Wanting nothing more than to help, I of course accepted this. "I can manage this" I thought, "look at how well I've managed the key situation, and the signing of the bit of paper. I'm a veritable master of dealing with the RAC, I can handle anything they throw at me. Survey? Pah! I'll do the best damn multiple choice picking they've ever seen."

I took the computer-tablet-thing from him and read the first question. 

"How would you rate the level of customer service experienced when you first phoned the RAC?"

Uh-oh. How could I answer that? It was my brother who had called them, not me! And he wasn't here! What do I do? Was it too late to just abandon the survey, to hand the computer-tablet-thing back to the man and explain that I couldn't possibly answer all these questions? Oh no, I couldn't do that. How would I explain that I simply didn't know the answers? What would the man think of me? No, I must finish the survey. I'd accepted the task and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to see it through to the end. 

But what answer do I give? How important are these surveys? I had no way of knowing how many people really took these. What if my answers were part of a very small group? They might significantly skew the results. Maybe if I just put high marks for them. Yes, that would be the best thing, surely. But what if it wasn't? Maybe the customer service was terrible, but by offering high marks I'd only be encouraging that and preventing the company from resolving it for the benefit of other customers. 

But if I gave an unjustly low mark, someone who doesn't deserve it may get in trouble. Oh what to do? Even the neutral answers seem unfair. They might deserve to be praised or scolded and I offer neither. I pondered the problem for several seconds, unnerved by the enormity of my decision and the harsh, impatient eyes of the man who had offered me this impossible test watching me. I gave up, let the fates, my subconscious and my natural motor skills decide by randomly hitting the screen with my finger without looking at it. I missed on the first attempt, but the second was a success. Having picked an option the survey moved on to question two:

"How would you rate the response time of the RAC to your initial request for help?"

Oh God. Another one I wasn't qualified to answer. I selected randomly again, doing the same for the other eight questions in the survey. Finally it was over and I handed the computer-tablet-thing back to the RAC man and bade him farewell. 

Closing the door behind me I pondered the consequences of my insincere answers, and worried about the hell that I may unwittingly have unleashed upon the employees and/or customers of the RAC's breakdown service. 

That's the last time I do a favour for my brother. 

The Importance of Commentary in a Fair Trial

According to news reports, the jury responsible for the outcome of the trial of two men accused of murdering teenager Stephen Lawrence have been told by the judge to stay away from social media sites Twitter and Facebook, in case they include "commentary" of the trial. This is supposedly done in the interest of a fair trial.

This, to me, doesn't quite make sense. I'm not saying I'm against the prospect of a fair trial - far from it - but I'm not sure that isolating the jury from the opinions of the masses is the way to go about it.

The jury is selected randomly in order to represent the rest of the population in coming up with a fair verdict. A small number is chosen simply because it's unfeasible to try and give all that information to everyone in the country and have us all vote on it. But they're still a small group. If they're to represent us, then why are they not allowed to hear what we have to say?

The benefit of social networking - especially twitter - is that everyone can put forward their thoughts on the topics of the day in real time. When it comes to a trial, I don't see why those responsible for coming to a decision can't see what other people are saying about it. Surely by allowing the views of hundreds of more people to be heard, we are making the overall verdict more fair, not less.

I'm not saying they should make looking at twitter the most important aspect of their decision making. After all, they're the ones in the courtroom. They're the ones who see all the evidence, and they're the ones hearing arguments from both sides. Obviously that's the most important thing they should be focussing on. But surely they should still be allowed to see what everyone else thinks about the proceedings - even if they're warned to take it with a little pinch of salt. Because, by our court system, the people tweeting had an equal chance of ending up in that jury. So why ignore their views?

I want a fair trial in every case. And I believe that when it comes down to it, discussion is vital in ensuring the right decision is made. And removing the possibility of discussion with the rest of your peers is not the way to ensure a fair trial.