skinnywhiteboy

Today the UK government gave the green light to nuclear power. So, no surprise there. Yesterday, the government announced that GPs will stop prescribing antibiotics for coughs and colds. Unrelated stories? Let’s see.

First here’s what a recent study by the Mayor of London concluded about nuclear…
- decentralised energy (locally generated and used heat and power from renewables and natural gas, with energy efficiency) could provide a cut of 27-32% in London’s emissions by 2025
- centralised nuclear power (with more stations as proposed today) would in contrast deliver 23%. In fact, in UK terms 10 new stations would only reduce emissions by around 4% by 2025
- decentralised energy systems give other benefits - local control of energy brings more energy security, uses less primary energy, empowers communities and has been done by other countries.
- nuclear power brings waste and security issues, protest, and cost. The time it takes to commission and build new stations (10 years +) sucks up money that renewables and combined heat and power so desperately need. Of course, it’s also been done by other countries.

So what about that link then? Something about breeding superbugs in nuclear reactors? Fall out generated killer viruses perhaps? Well no…. but unnecessary use of antibiotics cost the NHS £1.4 billion/year. 10 reactors at £2 billion each over say 10 years = £2 billion/year. Gordon Brown’s a sly one - I wonder where he’ll find that extra £600 k…your pension, perhaps.

(Refs Powering London into the 21st Century, Guardian online)

Now, I’m all for a bit of graffiti, but when Jimmy Cauty’s new promotional stunt was ruined by Brighton’s anti-graff squad I thought it was pretty funny. Cauty (of ‘he torched a million pounds‘ fame) had whitewashed ‘Portslade Massif’ across the front of the gallery, ‘ink’d’, where he was launching his new show.

Whether Brighton’s street cleaners are from rival Whitehawk or Moulsecoombe areas isn’t known, but they cleaned off the graffiti pretty effectively. A couple of days later, it reappeared…situationism re-situated.

Or have I fallen for it? Was this all part of the publicity stunt…? Time to get out there again guys - the Council’s website recommends chemicals, overpainting, or ‘creating three dimensional iron work, mosaics or climbing plants on walls’.

I can feel it in my fingers, feel it in my bones…mainly cos I’ve been pissed on by the UK summer for, well, a whole summer.

We’re having the wettest summer on record (records began in 1766). The previous wettest summer was in 1927. That was the year of Iraqi and Saudi independence from Britain, when 1000 British people a week died of flu and the Irish Free State broke away from the UK. (It was also the year of the Great Mississippi Flood where 700,000 people died, so let’s not complain too much). We’ve had floods in Gloucester…horrible rain in Scotland and elsewhere.

In the last 40 winters, we’ve seen more rain, heavier, and more frequent. Climate change is a factor. The trend in summer though has been drier and warmer - odd years like this feel all the more strange against this trend. But with climate change, we can expect more extreme weather events happening more ‘randomly’. People of Gloucester, move. People of Scotland…hunt Marti Pellow down and sacrifice him to the gods. Maybe it’ll help.

The minibeast has chicken pox. Turns out it’s nothing to do with chickens, but everything to do with chick peas. The spots look like chickpeas (Latin ‘cicer’) that’s why. Blame the Medieval types.

4.45 am, woken up with ‘help help wake up you fuckers help I’m dying’, booming from the end of the street where there’s there are entrance gates to a small park.

What would you do? Half asleep…the shouts carried on and I thought our end of the street is mainly women who aren’t going to venture out in the dark.

Needed a piss. Thought what if he dies what will I say then - ‘well I was going to go but had to have a piss first’?

Found him dangling from one of the gates, caught on the spikes by his sweatshirt, still shouting. Not dying, very drunk. Couldn’t pull himself up to release himself. Too heavy to lift, so I pushed his top over his head and he dropped to the ground.

Alfie. Says ‘Mate, you saved my life seriously. Mate. Mate, wait, mate seriously…’ on and on. Had to close the front door in his face to get rid of him.

Thing was, the gate was open.

Yes, snow is a wonderful thing. passing south east london on the train, every open space had long black snakes of energy, the passage of snowballs. there, at the heads, huge dirty misshapen lumps of fun masquerading as snowmen. would have made a great aerial photo.

My enthusiasm maybe dipped a bit when my train on to birmingham was cancelled, but rose again with my white-out view from the window. virginal surroundings for a Virgin train.

Who cares if snow paralyses our country? BE paralysed. stop. enjoy it. your grandchildren may never know it.