What... Is The Air Speed Velocity Of An Unladen Swallow?

Regular readers (by which I mean Sid and Doris) may be wondering what I'm doing blogging at half one in the morning. And indeed normally I would save it for a time when, well, anyone was going to read it. But in this case, it's apt to raise the issue during the event that inspired it.

To explain, I'm rather fond of hidden social indicators, the little things in life that demonstrate a wider truth. For years my favourite has been the correlation between the power of the hand dryers at a particular venue and the people you will find therein; for instance, the strongest hand dryers I've ever encountered were in Glasgow Queen Street station, while the weakest were in an independent school in Taunton (and for the record, the ones in Cardiff City Hall are fairly lame...)

In a similar vein, I'm presently watching Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Finals, something that leads me inexorably to Channel Five. As a fan of all the big American sports, many a night over the last ten years has been spent with Jonny and Josh, Nat and Mike, Russ and Nick and Mark and Andre; indeed, I am one of those rare people who actually saw the opening night of Channel Five back in 1997.

Massively fond of it as I am, I must nevertheless admit that in those early days Five's market was, well... a little restricted. Nowhere was this better reflected than in the advertising, which ranged all the way from chat lines to, erm, more chat lines. Quite seriously, it was not at all unusual at that early stage to have an entire ad break filled with nothing other than entreaties to call hot women in your area.

Mind you, things changed pretty soon; it wasn't long before you were being asked to call hot men too. Around the turn of the millennium it became something of a game, watching the breaks intently waiting for the holy grail, an ad break containing only gay chat lines. It never happened, but there were a few “I've got the first two balls in the lottery” moments...

I mention all this because it occurs to me tonight that we're approaching another such moment of advertising saturation; I've just had three commercials in a row for price comparison sites. I'm not sure what the great cultural significance of this is, but as I've never felt compelled to compare any prices at all, I know it's not working...

Missing Off The Score Of The East German Judge

I suppose that one of the advantages of blogging intermittently is that it makes it quite easy to temporarily drop out of the blogosphere if such is necessary. Nevertheless there is a point at which you have to come back (or otherwise you’re missing, as Jack Dee would have it) and so it’s time for me to break cover, as it were, to let you know what’s been going on (as if you couldn’t guess half of it…)

Then again, it’s difficult to know what to say or how much to say, so I figure that for safety’s sake I should just let the numbers speak for themselves…

Llandaff Ward, Cardiff Council, 2004

Gregory Owens	Labour	1356
John Sheppard	Labour	1335
Heather Douglas	Conservative	1255
Stephen Gardener	Conservative	1103
Hilary Borrow	Liberal Democrat	524
Erik Williams	Liberal Democrat	502
Ann Miles	Plaid Cymru	458

Llandaff Ward, Cardiff Council, 2008

Kirsty Davies	Liberal Democrat			1273
Gareth Aubrey	Liberal Democrat			1173
Craig Williams*	Conservative			1109
Clare Bath	Conservative			1104
John Sheppard	Labour			1019
Gill Green	Labour			825
Gillian Green	Plaid Cymru			454

* Assembly Candidate, Cardiff West, 2007
** Labour Group Leader, Cardiff Council

“Normal” blogging service will be resumed in due course, for now I’ll just thank everyone who came from all four corners of our nations to help us achieve this fantastic result.

I'm Chevy Chase And You're Not

For fear of doing a non-political entry (and, indeed, for fear of tilting at windmills), I find myself ensconced in a little saga I call, "Why I'm A Researcher And You're Not"...

With FA Cup semi-final weekend upcoming, everybody here in Cardiff is trying to get a piece of the "first time in 81 years" buzz. So it was entirely unsurprising to see the National Library of Wales joining in, with the release of what they claim is a cine film of the 1927 FA Cup winning Cardiff City side parading the cup in Rhayader, Powys.

Lo and behold, we do indeed find a film of a man on a flatbed lorry displaying no less than two trophies;


Followed by a nice close-up of the larger trophy;


All of which is fine, except that as the 35th ranked quizzer in the country and a sports specialist, I know full well that the current trophy of the FA Cup was designed in 1911 by Messrs Fattorini and Sons, Bradford and has been used ever since, for example in this photo of the 1927 Cardiff City team after their victory (courtesy of Cardiff Central Library);

Spotted the problem yet? Now, it is possible that the smaller trophy on the left in the film is the original design, but that trophy was last used in 1910 and then presented to FA President, Lord Kinnaird.

So you have to ask yourself; if the film-maker's recollection is correct and this is the 1927 team, why on Earth would they be in possession of a trophy that hadn't been used for 17 years, and it his recollection isn't correct, why on Earth did no-one at the National Library check that the trophy in the film was actually the one they were claiming it was?

No Metaphors To Declare

It takes a peculiarly British sense of humour to make April Fools Day the day on which most major changes to government services come into effect. This year's main event is of course the "National" Travel Pass for elderly and disabled passengers in England, something that has kicked up something of a storm on this side of...

Well, what exactly? Offa's Dyke is the traditional metaphor, but recently our politicians have been trialling something a little more Churchillian. Not that they don't have a point, mind you; between restricted commissioning of specialist health services and failure of joined-up thinking along the border, the raising of the drawbridge has loomed large in the policy of successive governments.

But what to call this thin red line from Shotton, on the Dee, to Chepstow, on the Wye? Darren Millar took the first shot from the Conservative benches, calling it a "slate curtain" in the Assembly. Today Kirsty Williams returns fire for us with a "daffodil curtain" for bus users.

I'm sure there are more variants to be found, but I must admit to rather liking the daffodil idea; after all, West Gloucestershire is famed for its daffodil production and, as a man of Gloucester, I know that ancient law says that any man approaching the city from the west on a market day is presumed to be Welsh and may be shot with impunity...

Unpopular (adj.)

Consider the scene; you're the President of the United States of America and you're throwing out the ceremonial first pitch at the first game at Washington's new baseball stadium. The nation's capital has gone without major league baseball for 35 years, so it's a huge day for the capital of one of the world's most fiercely patriotic nations.

And as you walk out onto the field on this day of celebration in the seat of your power, this happens;



I'm guessing the 217 days to polling can't come soon enough...