The Year That Was

So, as 2007 sputters its way to the finishing line, here are some of my favourite quotes from the past twelve months.


I'm a fairly wide guy... I tend to spread my legs when I lower my pants so they won't slide.
Senator Larry Craig

Welcome to Scotland
The exciting new slogan greeting visitors to Scottish airports, created at a cost of £125,000.

In Iran, we don't have homosexuals, like in your country.
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, at Columbia University.

I want to be like Gandhi and Martin Luther King and John Lennon – but I want to stay alive.
Madonna

I've had worse press than a pedophile or a murderer and I've done nothing but charity for the last 20 years.
Heather Mills, Paul McCartney's former wife, attacks the news media.

The planet is in distress and all of the attention is on Paris Hilton. We have to ask ourselves what is going on here?
Al Gore

Why don't you just shut up ?
— King Juan Carlos of Spain, to Hugo Chávez after the Venezuelan President called former Spanish Prime Minister José María Aznar a fascist.

I gave her my all-American smile, where I show wall-to-wall teeth and said, pathetically: 'Hope you like your trip to America'. I was quickly moved on like some old wilted tuna on the conveyer belt at Yo! Suchi.
Ruby Wax on her meeting with Britain's Queen Elizabeth.

This is Glasgow, we'll just set about you.
Airport worker John Smeaton, with a message for terrorists threatening Scotland.

Muslims know that if they attack a woman they will burn in hell.
Benazir Bhutto

Some people sing opera, Luciana Pavarotti was an opera.
Bono on death of the Italian tenor.

It wasn't a fortune. It cost me the price of one-and-a-half Hermes handbags.
Anne Robinson on her cosmetic surgery.

Today, society does not talk about hell. It's as if it did not exist, but it does.
Pope Benedict XVI

Less Dressy? What do you think this is?
Queen Elizabeth II after photographer Annie Leibovitz suggested she remove crown for photo shoot.

The guilt that we feel will never leave us.
Gerry McCann

When I'm looking for something I've dropped on the carpet, I have a bit of a problem.
German Chancellor Angela Merkel saying energy-saving light bulbs are not bright enough.

I used to act dumb. That act is no longer cute.
Paris Hilton

This House has noted the Prime Minister's remarkable transformation from Stalin to Mr Bean in the past few weeks.
Liberal Democrat stand-in leader, Vince Cable, turns the knife in Gordon Brown’s wounds.

Have you got anywhere with McDonald's? Have you tried getting it banned, that's the key. Prince Charles suggests cure for obesity on visit to United Arab Emirates.

We don't airbrush to that extent.
Hugh Hefner scuppers Kelly Osbourne's chances after she admits in an interview that she would like to be a nude Playboy pin-up.

Too Much Information

"I met the Dalai Lama in my office but I meet everyone in my office. I don't know why I would sneak off to a hotel room just to meet the Dalai Lama. You know, he's not a call girl."

Stephen Harper, Prime Minister of Canada, showing why he didn't enter the diplomatic service.
From the New Zealand Herald.

Lab, Actually

The words "science" and "humour" don't usually go hand in hand. But in a bit of festive frivolity, this week's New Scientist has published the results of a competition to find the best chat up lines for scientists.

The editors subjected the data to intense scrutiny, applied general principles, built prototypes, tested hunches and gathered evidence.

And the winners are:

Would there be any resistance if I asked to take you ohm?

Would kissing you increase global warming and damage the Arctic irreversibly, or is it just enough to break the ice?

I’ve had my ion you.

Hello, I’ve just taken part in a clinical trial of a new drug to help memory loss; could you tell me, do I come here often?

Your are definitely the woman of my REM phase.

Not much I can add to that. Apart from, of course: Is that a test tube in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?

The Spice Girls Cometh

Apart from "Drain Trader", possibly the last place I would have expected to see a review of the Spice Girls' comeback tour is in the Financial Times. But here it is, composed by someone rejoicing in the decidely unpoptastic name of Ludovic Hunter-Tilney. Double-barrelled he may be, but spiced up he certainly ain't.

"...their glittery set left me feeling empty. In spite of the flashiness and energy, it lacked life."

Going on to describe each of them as "differently bad", he reserves his barbiest barb for Posh:

"Victoria Beckham, skeletal in voice and body, was cheered each time she sang. Perhaps intended as sisterly solidarity by fans, or appreciation of her will to fame, the cheers had the happy effect of drowning Posh out."

What with this and a weekend story suggesting the sub-prime mortgage crisis has parallels with the Harry Potter stories, it looks as if the FT is scrambling for a younger demographic.

What next, I wonder? A campaign to bring back the Teletubbies?

The White Collar Tramp

In another life, he interviewed Margaret Thatcher and took holidays in Goa. Now, he sleeps on the street. Ed Mitchell, a former television journalist, has been homeless for the past year, after losing his £100,000 job at CNBC.

It's a sad tale of drink, debt and despair, but according to Mitchell, he's far from being the only "white collar tramp", and the worst may be yet to come:

"There is a tsunami of bad debt about to hit this economy," he said."Pandora's box has been opened."

In the meantime, Mitchell survives on the kindness of strangers and a philosophical outlook on his new life.

"Now I look at each day and think 'what is going to happen today?'," he said. "It is an existence that makes you appreciate small luxuries and kindnesses." On Thursday night he returned to his bench to find a wrapped Christmas present containing a bar of Dairy Milk, hat, gloves, a razor and deodorant."

Net Gains?

Is the internet good for writers?

That's the question on webzine 10zenmonkeys. And answers came there many:

I'm really sick of opinions and of most of what passes for online debate. Even the more artful rhetorical elements of argument and debate are rarely seen amidst the food fights, the generic argumentative “moves,” the poor syntax, and the often lame attempts to bring a “fresh take” to a topic. This is not an encouraging environment from which to speak from the heart or the soul or whatever it is that makes living, breathing prose an actual source of sustenance and spiritual strength.

We're drowning in yak, and it's getting harder and harder to hear the insightful voices through all the media cacophony. Oscar Wilde would be just another forlorn blogger out on the media asteroid belt in our day, constantly checking his SiteMeter's Average Hits Per Day and Average Visit Length.

The web enables us to write in public and, maybe one day, strike off the shackles of cubicle hell and get rich living by our wits. Sometimes I think we're just about to turn that cultural corner. Then I step onto the New York subway, where most of the car is talking nonstop on cellphones. Time was when people would have occupied their idle hours between the covers of a book. No more. We've turned the psyche inside out, exteriorizing our egos, extruding our selves into public space and filling our inner vacuums with white noise.

The internet has made research much easier, which is both good and bad. It's good not to be forced to go libraries to fact check and throw together bibliographic references. But it's bad not to be forced to do this, since it diminishes the possibility of accidental discovery. Physically browsing on library stacks and at used bookstores can lead to extraordinary discoveries. One can also discover extraordinary things online, too, but the physical process of doing so is somehow more personally gratifying.

Used to be I sat at an alphabet keyboard (called typewriters in my day) when I had an assignment or inspiration. Now it's all I do. Go to a library? Why? You can get what you need on the internet. Which means I've been suffering from Acute Cabin Fever since 1999 (when I tragically signed up for internet access). Sure, I could get off my ass and go to a library, but the internet is like heroin. Why take a walk in the park when you can boot up and find beauty behind your eyelids or truth from the MacBook? (Interesting that the term 'boot-up' is junkie-speak.)

J.K. Rowling wrote her first manuscript on paper towels and napkins. You may as well ask the question “Is tissue paper good for writers?”. The answer is the same. Sure it is, if they can write and get it to their audience.

My own feeling is that while the internet offers a huge amount to the writer - especially in terms of fact checking and communicating with other writers - it is immensely distracting. And on that note, excuse me while I go and play online Scrabble.

Biblioblob

There's been a right old stooshie in the Czech Republic over the design for the new National Library. The work of Jan Kaplicky and his London-based design team, it follows the new free-form style sometimes known as blobitechture. Not surprisingly, the radical design has ruffled some feathers in the baroque old city.

Many of the city councillors don't want it so close to the revered Prague Castle, preferring a site out in the suburbs. But others say the national library of a country should be close to the centre of the capital.

As is the way of these things, the decision's been outsourced to a committee of "experts". So, it will be a while before this blob on the landscape sees the light of day.