Irony.

I've just been to see Kick-Ass.  It's hilarious, feel free to go and see it.  During this film about an ineffectual superhero I came up with a new definition of irony:

• irony n. (pl. -ies) laughing at a film portrayal of a man who overestimates his own strength and is far punier than he imagines, then discovering that you can't unscrew the cap on your bottle of sparkling water.

I had to take it home after the film.  I still can't get the top off.  It's on my desk right now, taunting me; mocking me.  It's my new arch-enemy.

***************Update***************

Briony has just returned home and has opened the bottle for me.  It is no longer my arch-enemy; she is.

How Strong Is Emile Heskey?

In commentary on the England  - Croatia match this evening, Clive Tyldesley stated that the magnificent Emile Heskey "...is as strong as an ox".  That sounds strong, I thought, but it doesn't really quantify Emile Heskey's strength.  Obviously Clive Tyldesley knows how strong an ox is, which is lovely for him.  That didn't really help me though.  Am I, an urban-dwelling 21st Century sports fan, supposed to know what this means?  Is knowledge of the strength of an ox something that most of the audience possess?

In order to discover how strong Emile Heskey is, I consulted the 1958 Encyclopedia Britannica.  I got sidetracked by owls for quite a while but once I got back to the task in hand I learned that Ox is, when used correctly, the Saxon name for male domestic cattle.  It is often used, less correctly, to include all bovine animals including oxen, bison and buffaloes.  I don't know if Clive Tyldesley was using the word ox correctly or incorrectly, and I don't know how strong any of these animals are either, so this was not helpful.  

I decided to try a more contemporary approach and asked the internet how strong an ox is.  Yahoo Answers yielded these responses:


"id say weaker than an ox stronger than a turkey larger than a microwave lives in the ocean"


"cool question, dunno pretty strong i imagine."


"ermmmm about as strong as.......erm an ox? haha this is what u think about in ur spare time? just take it as its strong"


This was voted to be the best answer:


"Strong enough to kill you i hope"

I found this more entertaining than the 1958 Encyclopedia Britannica, though less informative.  Clearly researching the strength of an ox was going to get me nowhere.  I know as little about how strong Emile Heskey is than when I started.  What I have learned is that the soft plumage of the owl is the key to their hunting success (it makes their flight almost silent) and that people on the internet are really weird and can't punctuate.

If you know how strong an ox is, please let me know via the comments section.

Jonathan Trott is on Facebook!

Remember Federico Macheda, the seventeen year old Manchester United striker who scored a sensational injury time winner on his debut against Aston Villa last season? He suddenly went from the obscurity of the reserve team to become very famous and popular indeed. One of the consequences of his new found fame was that he received thousands of friend requests on Facebook.

When Jonathan Trott made his terrific England debut last week it occured to me that he might also get inundated with Facebook friend requests, so I got mine in early. To my surprise it was accepted quite quickly. I've taken a screenshot of his profile page and posted it here in case you're not lucky enough to have your friend request accepted.

If you click on the image, it will become bigger.

Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes Ashes

The 2009 Ashes series is over and, once again, the greatest trophy in all of sport is ours.

I knew the series would be a close and competitive affair - I was correct. If England were to win, it would require our top players to play to their potential. I knew that English success would depend on the performances of a fast-bowling all rounder and a big South African batsman. How right I was.

I've given a lot of thought to the appropriate celebratory beverage for this occasion. Usually I'm more than happy with champagne but a victory over the Aussies requires something special, something more pertinent. This evening I will be popping the cork on a bottle of New Zealand sparkling wine. Cheers, Australia.

Beanz Meanz Urnz.

I went food shopping during the tea interval. I wasn't sure what to get for dinner. I can't imagine how I ended up with these.

Red Trousers

A few years ago, my friend Andrew and I went to Verona for a few days. Sitting outside a cafe on the Piazza Bra one day, the discussion turned to the dress sense of the Italians. We agreed that Italians are wonderful, if flashy, dressers. I noted that occasionally you see Italian men wearing red trousers, and several birras later, a new game was born.

The rules of Red Trousers are simple. When you spot a man wearing red trousers, you call out "red trousers" and point. This only applies to men in red trousers. Women and children wear all manner of bizarrely hued garments and are no challenge, it is the scarcity of sightings of men in red trousers that makes the game fun. A duplicate sighting of a man in red trousers counts as a minus sighting. The winner of the game is the person who has the most sightings by the time you arrive at a bar. The loser buys the first round.

I've introduced my wife and many friends to this game and we've played it on several Italian holidays. Conversations on holiday tend to sound a bit like this:

"...and then I thought I'd wear the lilac necklace with the purple..."

"Red trousers!!!"

Startled, "What?"

"Red trousers! Over there."

"Oh, you and your stupid game. Grow up"....Some time later, "Red trousers! Ha! Beat that, husband".

I have even received pictures of red trousers from people holidaying in Italy. My friend Mal actually followed a man in red trousers around Rome surreptitiously photographing him for an afternoon.

This is purely a game to be played on holiday and in a country where English isn't the main language. On the occasion that I see a man in red trousers in England, I can't help myself, it's a reflex action. Pure instinct leads me to point and call "red trousers". Fortunately sightings of Englishmen in red trousers are very rare, and usually they're elderly men that I can outrun.

It's absolutely my favourite game. We have an Alan Partridge game we play when we're travelling in a car, every time you see a Lexus you shout - in an Alan Partridge voice - "Aha!". It's fun, but it's no Red Trousers.

This isn't weird, is it?