Run with Eric [Search results for reading] 

Ronaldo to Real, eh? And Kaka too. Not to mention Manchester City signing Gareth Barry. But did you hear about Burnley snapping up Tyrone Mears from Derby?

Watching the big-money buying antics of Real Madrid certainly provides some entertainment for the long summer football-less months, but the fun is short-lived. The real fascination comes in watching the teams without silly money scrape together their back-of-the-sofa coppers to buy Aberdeen's reserve left-back. Why? Because these teams need value for money, and there's a great game to be had, both for the clubs and for those of us watching, in predicting who can provide it; the player who not only helps the club to win matches, but at a cut-price rate.

Which is why it's most interesting at the moment to watch Burnley, Birmingham and Wolves – those teams newly promoted to the Premier League. Even though we're some 37 days (and impatiently counting) from the opening weekend, you can tell a lot from the way a club will go about its top-flight adventure by its close-season purchases.

Look at Derby two years ago, for example. With a notably weak squad, they hardly ventured beyond the High Street, with perpetual Welsh disappointment Robbie Earnshaw the only major signing. There was never any ambition. Famously, the Rams were relegated as early as March, and finished the season with a League record low of 11 points.

At the same time, Sunderland sought to reaffirm their place in the top flight with a spending spree, including Craig Gordon (£9 million), Michael Chopra (£5m) and Kenwyne Jones (£6m plus Stern John on an exchange deal). The Black Cats survived the drop.

But despite Sunderland's successful dealings that year, it's not all about spending a lot of money; it's about spending wisely. Hull went bargain basement this time last year, getting players on loan and free transfers, and enjoyed an incredible start to the season – and even if it did go a bit pear-shaped after that, they still stayed up.

So which of our new teams this year are shaping up well in the transfer market? Let's take a look at their chequebook stubs.

BURNLEY

Preparing for their first outing in the Premier League, the Clarets have been relatively quiet in the market to date. Only three players have made their way to Turf Moor so far this summer, as manager Owen Coyle chooses to keep faith with the team that won the Championship play-offs.

Burnley have, however, paid a club record transfer fee to bring Scottish striker Steven Fletcher from Hibernian for £3m.

Potential bargain: David Edgar. The 22-year-old Canadian defender was sent off on the last day of the season as Newcastle succumbed to relegation, but he received praise from Kevin Keegan and Glenn Roeder and was named man of the match in a 2-2 draw against Manchester United.

Potential turkey: Steven Fletcher. Can Fletcher live up to the pressure of being Burnley's most expensive ever signing? Hibs legend Keith Wright openly questioning whether he is ready for the best league in the world won't help his confidence.

WOLVES

Last year's second-flight champions have been very busy, signing six players. Most promisingly, they've broken the bank on Kevin Doyle, paying Reading, who bought him for just £78,000 four years ago, a reported £6m for his services – a Wolves club record. Reading team mate Marcus Hahnemann has also arrived on a free.

Potential bargain: Nenad Milijaš. Voted Most Valuable Player in the Serbian Superliga last year after 37 goals in 97 appearances for Red Star Belgrade, Milijaš has also scored twice in ten matches for Serbia. And he's a midfielder.

Potential turkey: Ronald Zubar. The former France Under-21 and Guadeloupe international incurred the wrath of Marseille fans after some costly defensive errors. Three million Euros may be too big a fee.

BIRMINGHAM

With more money to spend than their promotion buddies, Birmingham have sought to shore up their defence with some big-name Championship purchases. Roger Johnson, Cardiff player of the year for two years running, has arrived at St Andrews for £5m, joined by 22-year-old Coventry captain Scott Dann for a reported £3.5m, rising to £4m.

Potential bargain: Joe Hart. One of England's best 'keepers on a season-long loan? Yes please.

Potential turkey: Lee Bowyer. Bowyer came on a free transfer, so at least he won't be an expensive letdown, but is he still good enough to play at this level? The jury's out on that one.

Oh Daily Mail, obsessive-compulsive disorder is SO last year.

Of course, it doesn't bother me that there's another article in a mainstream national newspaper on OCD - far from it. I want to see the condition get as much coverage as possible so people actually understand it, instead of thinking, "Oh come on, how hard can it be to just have to wash your hands lots?"

The problem is that this is The Mail, and therefore any suggestion of respect is immediately going down the plughole with that soapy water. And indeed, they live up to form by making a complete hash of it.

My main issue with the piece is its conclusion. Personally, I think some progress can be made without professional consultation, but anyone with any OCD knowhow, professional or otherwise, would always say: see someone first. It's not an easy battle, and you'd be a fool to dismiss it entirely as a matter of willpower. Get help, then try to defeat it.

The article concludes:

The experts might say that you can't cure it yourself, but I'm living proof that you can.

I'm casting a lot of aspersions here - look, there they go, fluttering into the sunset - but it is an absolute certainty that some OCD sufferers will, as a consequence of reading this article, try to handle the condition entirely by themselves, without any help, and that is the wrong thing to do. It's something you need to conquer personally, no doubt about it; but turning down help is just stupid.

So what else bothers me about the article? Well, it's slightly uncomfortable reading some of the supposed diary extracts, not because they're disgusting or because the truth is too horrible to bear, but because it's a woman baring all in the worst way possible - smiling to the cameras. Or in this case: weeping with a smile in her eye.

My point is that parts of the article are discomfortingly pity-seeking. The writer becomes the martyr. I'm all for a writer with OCD revealing her inner battles and just how low the condition makes her feel, and in that sense the diary format makes sense, but it repeatedly collapses into wanton melodrama.

Now I don't think this is necessarily the writer's fault; I think it's the editor's. Either the writer is exploiting her own condition for sympathy's sake or the Mail's exploiting her. I think the latter is more likely. Having been in similar positions (I turned down an offer to appear in a trashy woman's weekly because I would have been made into a sideshow freak), I can see how a brutally honest but reserved piece was mutated like Frankenstein's creature into a stumbling monster of gruesome soundbites and misunderstood intentions. I can see the e-mail now, asking the poor writer to "spice it up". I can see the subeditors battling over a headline - "'Obsessive Compulsive Disaster', brilliant". And I can see the writer in tears over its treatment.

Or - equally possible - she's fine with it, it's a decent exposé and I'm just jealous at having my spacky thunder stolen (not true, I'm afraid). But to be fair, I genuinely do want to see obsessive-compulsive disorder in the press as much as possible.

Just not like this.

Bad news for Team GB: eight sports have had their funding slashed ahead of the 2012 London Olympics.

They're all relatively minor sports, but the cuts are major enough: water polo is losing half of its budget and shooting will be forced to scale down from 46 funded athletes to 10. Several teams, including water polo, may be forced to pull out of the 2012 Olympics, scuppering the Government's plans to field athletes in every... field.

Well, that's not good, is it? Especially after Britain's success in the Beijing Olympics last year. I can see a lot of people being disappointed with this - and not just the athletes. The British public has fallen in love with the idea of hosting the Olympics, and knowing their own country won't be able to compete in some events will be a major blow to morale. Also, the UK was given the Olympics on the basis it would be cheap - much cheaper than Beijing. I don't think withdrawing their own team was the idea they had in mind.

It's easy to say this kind of disappointment is inevitable in a recession, and to an extent it is, but that's not the direct reason for this. No - it's a £50m funding shortfall. Yeah. OK, enough beating around the bush: the Government failed to raise ANY MONEY AT ALL from the private sector. Not a single penny. Nothing. At. All.

So yes, indirectly the economy's general downward spiralling motion is arguably to blame because private companies aren't happy to be chucking about money at the moment, and certainly not into the training of younger athletes, contributing in turn to national success (much better to invest in Iceland, eh?).

But ultimately, the Government itself must take some responsibility for failing to marshal the private sector into investing in Britain's sporting future. I don't know quite what its level of campaigning was, but clearly it wasn't enough.

I know one thing, though:

taxpayers will not be happy. Reading The Metro tomorrow morning on the bus to work, I can see them choking on their Nutri-Grains reading about how private business has let them down once again. "Why should we pay the money if they don't?", they'll ask. I don't think taxes will rise as a result of the funding shortfall - too unpopular, even with the excitement over the Games - but it's not going to help public attitudes towards companies that many see as having helped to land Britain in this economic mess in the first place. Class war, here we come: public vs. private sector. Now that's sport.

All right then, a quick one before the year is out. New Year's Eve on the South Bank can wait.

First, though, a quick word of thanks to anyone still reading this blog; to those who put up with the epic early posts; to those who bookmarked it, RSSed it or remembered to return every Sunday night; and to those stuck with it through the regime change into its current non-weekly format. It's been great to know I'm not just prattling into an empty universe, as I usually am. Thank you all.

So why am I posting now, when I'm running late for a train? Because there are a couple of things I want to make clear before 2009 begins with a swirl of fireworks and anti-climax.

i) Manchester United are not out of the running for the Premiership. I keep reading interviews, match reviews and analyses saying, "United are still in the hunt" as if it's a surprise. Of course it isn't.

For one, United are never out of the running. As much as it pains me to say it (I hate United with a red devilish passion surpassed only by a recent revulsion towards Arsene Wenger), they are a good team that never gives up - hence their tradition in grabbing points from games at literally the last minute. The same goes in the longer run, and they'll fight this tooth and nail.

Secondly, they have the depth to cope with the injuries that naturally plague any team with title aspirations. One look at the depth of talent in the United midfield - Ronaldo, Giggs, Park, Carrick, Hargreaves (admittedly out for the rest of the season), Nani, Anderson, Scholes, Fletcher, O'Shea and any I've missed - is enough to know they can survive an injury crisis far better than the likes of 13-man squad Arsenal can.

Finally, have these naysayers even seen the points difference? United are seven points adrift of leaders Liverpool with two games in hand. If they win those two games, both at home - and they will - they're only a point behind. All it takes is a few dropped points by Liverpool (very likely) and they're top. Not asking much.

My prediction for 2009: Manchester United to win the Premiership.

ii) Facebook is right to ban photos of women breastfeeding. It is. The only problem is that it's gone the wrong way about it.

Breastfeeding photos shouldn't be banned because they're supposedly disgusting, or because nipples shouldn't be on show on such a widely-used website, but because there are some very dodgy people on Facebook who go around stalking women with public profiles. Believe me - I know some of them. Pictures of women liberally breastfeeding are enough to have some sick men reaching for their Kleenex, and for that reason - to protect the people in them - the photos should be banned.

iii) Raymond Blanc, the famous chef, has been a bit irresponsible in my view.

There's not much on it here, but look past the stuff about family mealtimes to the bit about diet books. This is what The Telegraph focused on in their print report today, and quite rightly so.

Blanc has said that diet books make people fear food, rather than enjoy it. He seems to be of the 'live to eat, don't eat to live' party, claiming that British people are so worried about what they should and should not eat they don't eat nice food any more.

This is a tad dangerous in my view. Yes, diet books can be irresponsible too in giving people overly negative images of themselves, but at least they are trying to curb the obesity problem in this country. What we don't need is a leading chef telling people to stop worrying about their weight and eat whatever the hell they want.

iv) This man should resign.

And that's it for 2008! Thanks again for sticking with me. Here's to controversial stories in 2009.

So, farewell then, the 2000s. It's been a good decade, if you ignore all the shit stuff.

Before #1 - this.

I won't go into all the albums that nearly made this list, but a couple of absentees have grabbed my attention. So please let's charge our glasses to Absent Friends. No, not the album at #7; the albums that didn't make it. Apologies to:

- Re-releases etc. I know fully enhanced mixes of older recordings are being put out like fires in a flame factory, but I refuse to count them as new albums. Except, of course, the Love reworkings of Beatles tracks, but that's not in there just because I don't love it. Kudos to the people who made it, though. KUDOS.

- Classical music. I won't pretend to know who's new on the scene, but I do really like Katherine Jenkins' Living A Dream. You can all throw things at me now.

- Hip-hop/rap/grime/etc. Oh, I don't fucking know, OK? Honourable mentions (I know these artists are very different; I'm just lumping them all together): Boy In Da Corner by Dizzee Rascal; The Red Light District by Ludacris; Original Pirate Material by The Streets.

- Messiah J & The Expert. See above; an artist in and around the above genres that I very nearly included. I'm a big fan of their album Now This I Have To Hear, and not just for its album cover, but they were squeezed out when I, uh, released I'd picked 31 albums instead of 30. Damn you, Cat Power! Lingering in the back of my mind and not on my spreadsheet...

- The year 2002. Looking through my selection, there's a lot from the start of the decade (11 of the 30 were released in 2000 or 2001), yet nothing at all from 2002. I feel a good year is being a bit hard done by, so off the top of my head, in no particular order, here are ten very good albums released in that year: Original Pirate Material by The Streets; Sea Change by Beck; American IV by Johnny Cash; Melody AM by Röyksopp; Souljacker by Eels; Come With Us by The Chemical Brothers; Life On Other Planets by Supergrass; Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots by The Flaming Lips; Come Away With Me by Norah Jones; and Highly Evolved by The Vines. 2002, I salute you.

If I could have written the list again, yes, I would have done it to bring music and joy to people's ears, no, I wouldn't have done it because it took more time out of my life than I expected, and no, I wouldn't have included Lemon Jelly either.

And so for number 1 - the Album of the Decade. Call me predictable; I call it perfect.

---------

Rings Around The World - Super Furry Animals [2001]

Perfect. Completely perfect. It's annoying, actually, because I know I can't write a review to do it justice.

I know I'm not the most creative, but I can't think of a way in which this album could be improved. Even the opening and weakest track Alternate Route To Vulcan Street has grown on me that much. It's a slice of serenity interspersed with explosions. Only the Furries could make that work.

Ostensibly an album about technology and progress, Rings Around The World - a mesmerising and damn cool concept in its own right - muses about a Revelations-style armageddon, brought on by humanity's desperate desire to move quickly, no matter in what direction.

But it has time to diverge into religious fundamentalism (the brilliant epic Run! Christian, Run!: "Bang on the hour of 12, to a forest clearing we'll delve, with guns to our heads for we know that Heaven awaits us"), rising house prices (the sublime Juxtaposed With U, originally intended as a duet between Brian Harvey and Bobby Brown) and, brilliantly, the Bill Clinton-Monica Lewinsky affair (Presidential Suite: "Honestly, do we need to know if he really came inside her mouth?"). It's a diverse album, to say the least.

Not least in its sound. After the unsubtle and goshdarnit fun Britrock of their first two LPs, experimentation with Guerrilla and Welsh-language jazz in Mwng, Rings sees the Furries delve into their more natural home of laid-back orchestral pop for the first time.

In doing this, many bands could have slipped into a musical coma, but SFA are wiser to it, largely because they get bored quite easily. So, Sidewalk Serfer Girl is a juddering slammer of a song, juxtaposing (sorry) gentle folkish guitar with thumping guitar chords on its way to a strangely heartwarming chorus - heartwarming in its tenderness; strange in that it comes in a song about comas, famine and bungee jumping.

The title track is simple, no-nonsense stuff, but then it's also the song that first got me into SFA and as such, a personal favourite. In fact, it's one of my favourite songs ever. Sounding the whole way through like a warm-up into a bigger song, it also hits its stride from the off and finds a refrain to stay in your head until you die. Nice video, too.

Fan favourite and live masterpiece Receptacle For The Respectable is almost as fantastic, skipping between genres like they're on a hopscotch pattern. From pop to swing to metal, it sweeps you up and away before throwing you nosedeep into one of the best miniature techno instrumentals you'll hear, [A] Touch Sensitive (another great song title).

Oh, I could go on. The brilliance of folk ballad-turned-industrial rave No Sympathy. The video to It's Not The End Of The World?. The beautiful build-up of Shoot Doris Day, which transformed in my mind from average to extraordinary in a couple of listens (it's a microcosm of the whole album in that it's a grower; if you don't like it straight off, you'll love it later). Even Paul McCartney turning up on Receptacle For The Respectable chewing celery down the phone in an homage to the Beach Boys (well, why not?)

But I won't. I sense the job's not done, but that's because I'm writing about an album that must be listened to. So listen to it. Now. Lush in sound, intelligent in words, fun in spirit and imbued with a fragile happiness, it's probably the best thing made this decade.

Spotify link.

Thanks for reading, if you did. If you didn't... well, you're not reading this.

Come back tomorrow, next year as I begin my daily countdown of the 365 Best Songs Ever Written.

Five men have been cleared of raping a woman after it emerged she had spoken online about group sex fantasies.

The 24-year-old from Liverpool claimed she was raped after visiting one of the men at his home in Bolton, after making contact on the internet.

But the trial at Preston Crown Court collapsed when computer evidence was produced showing her entertaining the prospect of group sex.

Judge Robert Brown ordered the jury to return not guilty verdicts.

[Prosecutor Michael Leeming] formally offered no evidence after reading excerpts of MSN chatlogs of her conversations before the alleged offence.

He said: "It is right to say that there is material in the chatlogs from the complainant, who is prepared to entertain ideas of group sex with strangers, where to use her words 'her morals go out of the window'."

The woman said she had agreed to visit Mr Owolabi after meeting him on MSN.

She alleged she wanted to just have sex with him, but was then raped by the others.

Judge Brown told the jury: "This case depended on the complainant's credibility.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, her credibility was shot to pieces."

The law of innocent until proven guilty means the right decision has been made in light of evidence not being presented. But if the only reason it was not presented was because the prosecutor knew his client had slim chance of winning the case due to her reputation being in doubt, this is deeply worrying. I just hope he knows something we don't (i.e. that the alleged victim is lying); otherwise, a victim's quest for justice has failed purely because of incredibly flimsy non-evidence.

Because it doesn't matter if she'd entertained group sex fantasies or even rape fantasies before the alleged incident. All that matters is -

Was she raped?

Wildflower.

Just the mention of the word evokes vivid images in my mind. Camping with my family. Sitting by the campfire and making S'mores. The Energizer bunny pounding his drum at the top of Nasty Grade. Shuffling up the never ending Mile 5 hill. Running through the amazing crowds in Redondo Vista. Drinking ice-cold post-race beers (maybe the best part of all.)

It is my favorite race on the calendar, not just for epic nature of the race itself, but for the entire Wildflower experience.

This year was our third trip to Lake San Antonio for this event. In 2006, I did the Olympic distance race and in 2008 stepped up to the Long Course. This year, once again, the Long Course was on the menu. The Long Course is the event that truly defines Wildflower. It is a half-ironman distance event and as the saying goes, the only flat spot on the entire course is during the swim. Over 5000 ft of climbing on the bike, and over 1100 ft on run course that is 60% off-road trails and 40% pavement. Brutal.

Thursday morning, we got on the road early and after a few stops we arrived at the race site around 3. After entering the gate, we stopped by the AVIA booth where they were giving out free gelatos... a welcome treat. Kenny Sousa himself hand-delivered them to our car... pretty cool. We hopped out for a minute and another AVIA athlete, Saul Raisin, was at the booth signing copies of his book, "Tour de Life: From Coma to Competition". He has an incredible story and it was a pleasure to meet him and get a copy of his book. I just started reading it and it is amazing.

This year, we camped in Harris Creek once again with a crew of Cal Poly Alums that have been working the run aid station for over 20 years. We met them last year (through our kids) and had a blast. A great group of people and there were over 15 little kids in our area so our girls had a fantastic time the whole weekend.

I spent Friday doing typical pre-race stuff... in the afternoon I went down to the festival area to get my race packet and went for a short swim to make sure the wetsuit still fit. Water temp was just touch on the chilly side (64 degrees or so), but not an issue. After my swim I cruised the expo and had a chance to catch up with Sebastian Linke from SLS3, who set me up with some of their new compression socks to wear on race day. Check out their stuff... the best compression gear on the market.

Saturday morning, I woke up at 5 to get an early start on some calories and coffee. Typical race-morning breakfast... cereal with soy milk (I am trying to cut back on dairy), banana, wheat bread with peanut butter, coffee and water. I caught the boat shuttle at 7:00 and got into the transition area around 7:30, plenty of time to set up for my 8:35 wave start.

Swim - 28:02 (10th AG). HR (156 avg, 160 max)
Swim start was super aggressive. I lined up front and dead center, which was probably asking for trouble, but my swimming has been strong lately so I was confident in my ability to swim near the front of the group. After the mad sprint into the water, there was lots of contact and elbows the first 150 meters to the first bouy... guys were hammering! I was swimming just about flat out to try to stay in a good position. Fortunately, things settled down after the first turn and I was able to get into a rhythm. One thing I like about this swim course is that since there are no waves, sighting is super easy. Got back to the boat ramp and chuckled to myself, my swim time was identical to my split at Oceanside. One of these days, I'm going to break 28 minutes!!

T1- 3:29.
I was racked in an ideal spot, dead center of the transition area on the end of the row at the center aisle. For some reason, I had a hard time getting my left leg out of my wetsuit and nearly fell over twice trying to get it off.

Bike - 2:49:56 (19.8 mph, 42nd AG) HR (139 avg, 172 max)
The course is just hard. Coming out of transition, I just tried to get the legs moving by staying in a small gear on some rollers near the lake and up the Beach Hill climb. Once out of the campground, I pushed the pace for the first 20 miles out to the right turn on Jolon Road and maintained my HR between 145-155. At the turn, I dropped the intensity a touch and just focused on staying aero and maintaining a good rhythm. The miles between 20 and 35 are rolling with some long gentle descents so I used this opportunity to let the HR drop and recover slightly. Felt very strong going up Nasty Grade and the final hills into the transition. Total bike was much better than last year (2:56:59)... wanted to go under 2:50 so am happy with it.

At the top of the Nasty Grade
nutrition
2 bottles of GuH20/CarboPro (325 cals each). 1 1/2 btls of water. Also took a few pulls off a Gu flask..but I didn't finish it (maybe had 1-2 gels). total cals on the bike. 750-800. 5 Thermolytes per hour.

T2 - 1:47
A bit slow. I took a few seconds to put on my new SLS3 compression socks. By having them rolled up beforehand, they went on quite easily.

Run - 1:43:57, 7:56 per mile (49th AG), HR (164 avg, 194 max)
This course beat me again. I came out of transition feeling good and started out very easy. Mile 1 split was 5:50..so I knew the markers were off... I'd estimate I ran something around 7:15. Just tried to find a rhythm in the first 4 miles, but couldn't seem to get my HR under control. Got to the monster hill at mile 5 and had to walk a pretty long section. After going down the descent, my hamstring started cramping. Stopped to massage it and stretch it out. That seemed to take care of it, it didn't bother me again. After mile 6, I started to feel better and managed to maintain a decent pace. The markers were all off so I don't know how fast, but I would estimate low 7 min pace. Maintained a decent pace through Redondo Vista and through the pit (no walking like last year). I did walk through the final aid station at mile 12 though, but at least it was only for a few seconds.

suffering on the run course
Nutrition. Carried a GU flask with caffeinated TriBerry GU, which I sucked on before every aid station. Alternated Gatorade and water.

Strange, I felt like I did a lot better than last year (much less walking), but my time was only a little over a minute faster. I am disappointed with this... 1:43 is pretty embarrassing. This course is slower than Oceanside, maybe 5 minutes slower. But not 14 minutes slower.

Next year, I am going to change my prep entirely for this. More run mileage, lots more hills and I will need to get a lot leaner.

A side note on the socks. It was my first time racing in compression socks. It's hard to say if they helped me on the run course. But the day after... OMG. Normally, my lower legs are trashed after a race. This time, my legs are only a bit sore. That alone is worth the few seconds to put them on.

Final time - 5:07:14 (36th AG, 158th OA).

About 10 minutes faster than Wildflower last year, but 28 minutes SLOWER than Oceanside a month ago. I have a few theories. My running has been inconsistent the last four weeks... my slower than expected 5K was an indication of that. I also had a lot of work travel this month so my diet was a way off. I am about 3-4 lbs heavier than when I raced Oceanside, on a hilly course those extra pounds are a killer.

Racewise, I am not happy with the result, I believe I performed way under my potential. Back to the drawing board.

Sometimes there is nothing better than a hot plate of starchy carbohydrates to start your morning. Particularly in the form of a tall stack of pancakes. I'm a bit of a tinkerer in the kitchen and I came up with the following recipe for multi-grain pancakes after some trial and error. I think they are pretty good and my wife and kids like them, so my bet is that you will too.

While I realize that it's not always the healthiest thing to eat (in fact, it's usually not), I'll assume that if you're reading this blog (all two of you) that you've either preceded or will follow your big breakfast with a hard workout to burn off all this excess glycogen. For the sake of balance and a more complete breakfast, I'd also recommend some protein. You can never go wrong with some thick sliced good quality bacon. If you're trying to avoid animal fat, or don't eat meat, the Morningstar brand veggie sausage patties are also excellent. And of course, some fresh fruit... strawberries, blueberries, peaches or what you can get your hands on or is in season.

Here's the recipe.

Get two large bowls out and pre-heat a griddle or skillet to 350 degrees.

In the first bowl, whisk together the following dry ingredients:

• 1/3 cup corn meal
• 1/4 cup quick cooking or old-fashioned rolled oats
• 1 cup whole wheat flour
• 3/4 cup white, all purpose flour
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• pinch of ground nutmeg

In the second bowl, whisk the following wet ingredients:

• 1 3/4 cup milk (I use 1%... whatever type you normally keep on hand will work. As for almond, rice or soy, I haven't tried those in this recipe, so you're on your own)
• 4 tablespoons butter (1/2 stick), melted
• 1/4 cup honey
• 3 large eggs
• 1/4 cup honey
• 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract

Pour wet ingredients into the dry and gently whisk together until combined. Don't overmix or your pancakes will come out dense and chewy.

Using a ladle, pour about 1/4 cup of batter onto hot griddle. If you like nuts, sprinkle chopped pecans, almonds or walnuts on each pancake while it cooks, before flipping.

They will be ready to flip when large bubbles appear on the top and start to pop. Serve right away or keep warm in a 200 degree oven.

Serve with pure maple syrup.

Enjoy!

Huw Davies is a young writer and sub-editor pursuing a career in journalism, spending his time reading articles, writing articles and watching Neighbours. He recently completed a postgraduate diploma in magazine journalism at Cardiff University, a course so rigorous he developed pneumonia.

Huw is now sub-editing at Haymarket's Medical Imprint, while also maintaining a weekly Premier League predictions blog on fourfourtwo.com. Occasionally, he gets one right.

Before this work began Huw wrote for a wide range of publications, including G2, Psychologies, The Big Issue Cymru, The South Wales Echo, One In Four magazine and The Essex Chronicle, who still owe him a phone call.

His most successful work was arguably for Cardiff University’s award-winning weekly student newspaper gair rhydd, editing the Editorial & Opinion section and writing fortnightly columns under the pseudonym Rasputin. Huw won four Cardiff Student Media Awards, including Best Interview for a one-to-one with Welsh rugby hero Shane Williams and Best Opinion Writer two years running. The judges were impressed with a selection of articles written under the guise of Rasputin on subjects ranging from education reform to links between his beard and international terrorism.

The fourth award came with a feature in gair rhydd, which more importantly won him the coveted Student Journalist of the Year award from leading mental health charity, Mind.

Huw confronted his problems with obsessive-compulsive disorder to search for the truth about the condition in a piece that judges called a "down-to-earth take on living with OCD", "imaginatively written from first-hand experience". Huw accepted the award at Kingsway Hall Hotel in London, where he met Mind President Lord Melvyn Bragg, who has giant hands. The piece also saw him shortlisted for Best Diversity Writer at the Guardian Student Media Awards.

Having graduated from Cardiff University with the postgraduate diploma in magazine journalism and a BA Hons in English Literature, somehow finishing second in the year and achieving a First despite spending most of his time playing snooker (much to the amusement of anyone who saw him try), Huw is settling into working life and wondering whether he should update his blog more often.

Shortlisted, Diversity Writer of the Year, Guardian Student Media Awards 2009
Runner-up, Best gair rhydd Section (Editorial & Opinion), Cardiff Student Media Awards 2008

You are looking for opinion writing that either a) shows versatility and good research or b) tells you something special…So Huw Davies’ ability to blend personal experience and some decent research findings just topped my bill.

Huw Davies and Chris Croissant deserve congratulations for putting together such a diverse and original set of articles.

A gripping and well-written feature which managed to be informative, non-self-pitying and witty.

Huw writes with both authenticity and rigour, balancing personal experience and thorough and creative research in his feature with a high degree of professionalism... This was a strong example of the voice of someone with personal experience breaking down the stigma surrounding the condition.

Huw Davies – ah Huw Davies again – makes the OCD spread so much fresher by approaching it from a personal point of view.

Keeping The Faith, Keeping The Facial Hair (November 2007)
Why is it excusable for the authorities to treat Muslims (and me) as potential terrorists?

Living With OCD (August 2008)
A look into obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), as featured in The Guardian's G2 supplement

Living With An Obsession (February 2008)
My original look into obsessive-compulsive disorder

Williams the Conqueror (March 2009)
An exclusive interview with Welsh rugby legend Shane Williams

Blair. Fair. (February 2007)
The Government's firmness towards Catholic adoption agencies spells good news for gay parents

Poor Old John Prescott (June 2006)
Leave the big guy alone

Bland Designs (May 2008)
The ambitious plans for Cardiff University's Students' Union building make absolutely no sense

Vocation, Vocation, Vocation (February 2008)
Underqualified graduates have overly theory-based degrees to blame

Highlight Of The Year Or A Right Summer Balls-Up? (June 2008)
Whoever organised Cardiff University's Summer Ball doesn't seem to care about the students

The Rise And Rise Of Moral TV (October 2007)
Programmes need to stop preaching

Phantom Power - Super Furry Animals [2003]

Well, for the millions of you reading this, I'm sure my #11 will be something of an anticlimax after this. What a story. I feel overshadowed.

Phantom Power is a wonderful record from start to finish. For a 10-song concept album in which every song used D-A-D-D-A-D tuning - surely the worst idea for a concept album ever - to be turned into a 14-song masterpiece virtually flawless in its creation and implementation is quite something.

In a way, it represents the Furries taking many new steps. For one, it's the last time they ever really made any dent on the charts, effectively cutting off quite a lot of MOR listeners to their sound. I'm sure Gruff Rhys and his merry mentalists couldn't care less, but a fall in mainstream success often spells a change in a band's approach.

This time, the band allowed themselves to be much more technical about the album's production (reflected in its title, a reference to a tool often seen on mixing desks). They engineered the album themselves and had endless discussions about things I won't pretend to understand. Gone, it seems, were the days of making poorly-produced shoutfest B-sides just for the fun of it.

They did get to play with guns though.

Yet the band are right in calling the album "a little more human" than its predecessor Rings Around The World. There's a sentimental warmth to songs such as Sex, War & Robots, and not just because of its pedal steel guitar. "If tears could kill, I'd be a long time gone," croons Huw Bunford over a languid melody.

Yes, Huw Bunford. Bunf. It's the first time a song of the guitarist's had made a Furries studio album, but more noticeable is his vocals being used instead of Rhys'. It was the catalyst for everyone having a go on Love Kraft, with each band member bar Guto Pryce - he's shy, bless him - taking the lead at one stage. Again, a new sound, and one that works really well, on Phantom Power at least (Love Kraft's not all that).

But to my mind, though this album shows a band at their stage-sharing democratic best, it's brothers Dafydd Ieuan and Cian Ciaran's record. Daf is given a huge amount more freedom with his drumming, from the heraldic announcements of the gorgeous Father Father instrumentals to the frantic drum solo outro of Valet Parking.

Cian, meanwhile, is the man behind Slow Life, one of the greatest offerings of the Furries' career - a seven-minute semi-improvised experiment (the rest of the band just jammed over the top of his pre-prepared mix) that weaves seamlessly between techno and folk-rock then mashing the two together. What a finale.

I should probably write more about the songs themselves, but I doubt I'd do them justice. Suffice it to say the album is eclectic as the Furries ever are, but with an often gentler, more countrified sound. True, Out Of Control and Golden Retriever are steeped in '70s rock 'n' roll and I don't even know what The Undefeated is, but the general atmosphere is laid back to the point of falling over, and in a damn good way.

Lyrically, it's, uh, diverse. The band claims Phantom Power is about broken relationships and war, and I suppose that's partly true. But it doesn't do justice to the sheer number of subjects tackled, nor the intense amount of feeling they manage to generate on topics such as the Falklands War (The Piccolo Snare, an incredible track with some of the most beautiful close harmonising you'll ever hear) and the Chernobyl disaster's effect on North Wales (Bleed Forever).

Oh yeah, and a song about a dog. With Golden Retriever and outpourings from the soul about pan-European road travel and pet tortoises called Venus and Serena, it's good to see the Furries didn't lose their sense of fun with this one.

Even against the brilliance of Radiator and Rings Around The World, Phantom Power could just be the Super Furry Animals' best album. And if that's not enough, it's certainly one of the best albums released this decade. SFA OK.

(Wow, I managed to make a spectacular album really boring. Just listen to it.)

Spotify link.

Ah, the importance of reading a whole story before drawing conclusions.

My first reaction to this little piece of gold (originally seen on the Bad Science forums) was, in my head, "Has the world gone mad?" and verbally something I probably shouldn't repeat here. Rest assured it was along the lines of "Oh for Puck's sake".

But then you read the facts behind the conspiracy and you realise that you can agree with some aspects of taste and even political correctness if, y'know, they actually make sense.

The problem with the film Righteous Kill being advertised in Stockwell tube station, the site of the de Menezes shooting, is not that it's a violent film - if that was the issue, you'd be justified in calling me a Daily Mail reader (incidentally, did anyone see the tabloids yesterday screaming 'IMMIGRANTS HAVE STOLEN ALL OUR JOBS'? Sigh). But no, the issue is the film's tagline, which takes on wonderful irony in context of de Menezes' tragic death.

"There's nothing wrong with a little shooting as long as the right people get shot."

More than anything else, it's very funny. But then not everyone has the same dark sense of humour as I do. If it was deliberate marketing, it's a work of genius but also more than a little sick; if it was accidental, it was stupid.

OF COURSE people were going to be offended. I think removing the poster would be completely justified.

Either that or people get a darker sense of humour, but given that de Menezes lies dead for a crime he didn't commit, I can forgive them for not plunging those depths just yet.

Politics both sides of the Atlantic remains as hostile as ever as politicians bite, punch and scratch each other, grappling and grasping on the greasy pole of power for a slightly better purchase and a slightly better view before inevitably slipping, sliding and falling, falling, falling into public shame and ignominy, a seat on the back benches and an autobiography explaining how none of it was their fault and they're the nice guys really – it's the other ones you want to watch out for.

Elections mean one thing, and that's politicians electing to destroy one another. Or at least to kill their rivals' careers. This week, David Miliband elects to kill off Gordon Brown, John McCain elects to kill off Barack Obama and wives electing to kill off their abusive husbands get some good news from the Government.

All in all, it's enough to make you think that Britain's much-publicised problem with knife crime could be helped if Cabinet ministers stopped plunging them into each other's backs.

Miliband begins to play
On the negative campaign trail
Getting away with manslaughter

"It came to me in a dream," Foreign Secretary David Miliband told me over tea at high noon the other day. "I was contemplating the Lisbon Treaty when Tony Blair appeared in front of me, arms outstretched, clutching a sharp instrument. 'Is this a dagger which I see before me,' I asked, 'the handle toward my hand?' 'Yes,' said Tony. 'Now use it. Use it, David, and never look back.' And he disappeared to the Middle East, leaving only his smile.

"I crept by night into Southwold, thinking of nothing but power and glory – and on occasion the future of the Labour Party – as I drew closer to my goal. There lay Gordon, asleep, wearing a jacket and open collar shirt. I knew what I had to do. I thrust my dagger into his cold, Scottish heart. Then I turned to the crowd behind me and proclaimed myself King – of Labour, of the Government, and of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. 'Brown is dead,' I cried. 'Long live David Miliband, Prime Minister.' And the crowd went wild."

But it didn't quite work out like that, did it, David? No – instead your article in The Guardian was seen for the weak challenge to the premiership it was, nobody got behind your cause and rather than hoist you on their shoulders, your colleagues threw you out on your arse. And then a poll showed that your adoring public have even less faith in you than they do in Gordon Brown.

(This poll also indicated that the most popular Labour leader at the moment would be Blair ("Come back, Tony, all is forgiven"). Strange, since twelve months ago everybody hated him and couldn’t wait for him to resign. It just goes to show that hindsight is a wonderful thing.)

I would call it unfortunate that Miliband gauged the opinions of party and public alike so spectacularly badly, but it's just too funny. It must have seemed like such a good idea. But the fact is, despite voters coming to terms with politicians being on the whole sly, devious and ready to do anything for a vote, still no one likes a backstabber.

Miliband's reputation with the public at this stage in his career is as something of a nonentity. Foreign Secretary he may be, but he has not captured the public's attention. That's why he should have waited until he had more of a following, or learnt from the Yes Minister Christmas Special and organised a (better) publicity stunt and then waited for the press to tout him as a potential leader before presenting himself as one to an uninterested public.

However, while British voters can shrug their collective shoulders at his machinations, they can't actually punish his vaulting ambition. His party can. And that’s where the folly in his plan lay. With Miliband revolting and Harriet 'This is my moment' Harman changing the locks at No.10, Gordon Brown probably can't wait to get back from what is essentially a forced holiday (does he look like the kind of person who enjoys going on holiday?), and since he urgently needs to reinforce his authority and wouldn't be likely to suffer much of a backlash, his first act upon returning – apart from informing the milkman – might be to sack David Miliband as Foreign Secretary.

That would certainly be the sensible thing to do. But rumours abound that the PM might just give his errant Foreign Secretary a slap on the wrists and forget – publicly at least – the whole affair. This would be a sign of weakness, not strength. It's time for the chop.

Special offer this week: John McCain's oven chips, best served on his shoulder with a side salad of negative campaigning (and a dressing of poor metaphors).

McCain has hit out again at Barack Obama’s celebrity status. His new TV ad, 'Celeb', uses pictures of Britney Spears and Paris Hilton to accuse Obama of being all mouth and no trousers (though admittedly that worked for Bill Clinton until Hillary found out).

Obama has shrugged this off, but has unfortunately been drawn into a bit of negative campaigning himself, accusing the McCain camp of making his race an issue. While this is quite possibly true, it's not been obviously clear in McCain's campaign, so in pointing it out Obama runs the risk of doing his job for him, appearing to have a chip on his shoulder about perceptions of his colour, and playing The Black Candidate.

Negative campaigning is the way in American presidential elections, of course: it always has been and it always will be. Jeremy Clarkson argued in The Sun – sorry, it was in my Chinese while I was waiting for a takeaway and I've got into the habit of reading whatever paper is put in front of me for the news if not its opinions – that Obama’s pledges are "rabble-rousing gobbledegook" and bet that "no one can name a single one of his policies." He then says McCain is no better. But that’s American elections for you – all character and no politics.

Still, even by normal standards, McCain's campaign is a full-blown attack. He has stayed very quiet about his own qualities, for obvious reasons, perhaps. He is not saying "I can lead", but "Obama can't". He is essentially turning the election into a referendum on whether or not the American public want Obama to president.

Which, sadly, could prove very effective. It's easier to vote against someone than for them, and with McCain still playing the experience card, as Hillary Clinton did with the 3am ad (not that I can find it anywhere on YouTube amidst all the spoofs), there is doubt amongst American voters over Obama's aptitude for the job. As ugly as they are, McCain’s tactics could just win him the election.

Not if Ludacris has anything to do with it, though. It's a shame that Obama has had to distance himself from Ludacris' song Politics As Usual (though he did have to) because it has some absolutely inspired lyrics that confirm Ludacris' place, for me at least, at the top of the American rap pile. "Paint the White House black – I'm sure that's got `em terrified / McCain don't belong in any chair unless he's paralysed."

Brilliant.

Something that concerned me this week were strange changes in homicide laws. The old 'jealous rage' defence is no longer viable for men who murder their partner after finding her in flagrante, reasonably enough, but women living in fear of future violence from their partner could be charged with manslaughter rather than murder if they kill him first. Also charged with manslaughter instead of murder will be parents who kill a paedophile molesting their child and rape victims who kill an attacker taunting them for their misfortune.

First up, that's still murder. Even if you disagree with everything else I say – quite possible – we must agree on the semantics. Deliberately killing someone is murder. Self-defence can bring a charge down to manslaughter. But these cases are not self-defence; they are murders, planned and executed.

Secondly, I apologise for the gender stereotype that men kill their partners in a rage while women wait until the time is ripe, but that's how the law has been made. Melanie McDonagh writes a good piece on the gender generalisation of it all. I’d like to have seen fewer gender-specific words in the plans.

"It will end the injustice of the perpetrators making excuses saying it's not their fault," said Harriet Harman, Deputy Labour Leader, Women’s Secretary and Acting PM. Uh... will it? It will end the injustice of male perpetrators making excuses saying it's not their fault. But it positively encourages women to do it.

Battered wives who kill their husband after years of abuse can now use the defence that they acted in response to "extreme words and conduct" (for some reason, the word "extreme" is in Tuesday’s Telegraph but dropped from the online version of the report). This all sounds a little "He started it" in my eyes. Verbal provocation is not the same as physical abuse in the self-defence stakes.

Besides, what are "extreme words"? "You fucking syphilitic whore"? "I hope you die"? Or does it have to be more personal? "I'm glad you have cancer", for example? How extreme do the words have to be to justify killing the person who says them? The above examples are sickening, but they are still just words, and words are not incitement to murder (or, at least, shouldn't be). It seems that for abusive husbands now, sticks and stones may break your bones, but names can leave you dead.

I don't want to trivialise the issue. But I feel that's what the new proposals are doing. Obviously you will still be punished for killing your spouse, and '’m not saying there will now be a spate of 'justice killings' from raped or beaten women, but the new laws almost encourage people to take the law into their own hands. Allowing the deliberate killing of a rapist to be manslaughter because of his "later taunting" is worrying. It opens the door for people to 'right past wrongs' knowing they won't be charged with murder.

The most serious of crimes has been massively downgraded. Even neighbours' disputes that end in a deliberate killing may now be wiped clean of murder. That is downright scary.

You simply can't legislate for instances that are this specific. What constitutes self-defence? What constitutes provocation? What constitutes incitement to murder? Those are questions for the courts to decide.

This dangerous law needs to be stopped, by any means necessary. Kill it dead. It'll only be manslaughter anyway.

Changes in life, however small, can make you think quite deeply. New purchases can help us to take on fresh challenges, do new things and achieve our dreams. They can draw a line in the sand between the old and the new; the past and the present; the present and the future. They can represent a new you, or help you to develop the old one.

And I can write this on my new laptop in half the time it usually takes because Microsoft Word isn't crashing every few sentences.

An Impolite Police (Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love To Rant)
Bye Bye Beijing - Time for a Whole Lotta London
Here Comes the Science
Tories and YouTubers in 'Sense of Humour Failure' Shocker
Picture Puzzle: Another Prick In The Wall

Forgive me while I go a bit Daily Express "It's a bloody outrage" on you, but I find myself increasingly disturbed upon hearing about policemen and women abusing their authority. I'm not talking about inside men on bank heists or anything – this isn't The Bill – but minor violations of the law committed for no reason. They show there are a lot of officers who feel that because they wear a police badge they can do whatever the hell they want.

This week I read that a man was arrested for taking a photo of a policeman who had driven through a 'no entry' sign (well, not literally, but you know what I mean). Andrew Carter generously pointed out the officer's mistake, to which PC Aqil Farooq responded, "F*ck off, this is police business." Carter took a photo of the van and its driver, and Farooq, suddenly abandoning whatever business he had in the Bristol chip shop that was so important he could ignore road signs, ran out and knocked the camera from his hand. He then arrested Carter for being drunk and disorderly, resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law (none of which happened). Carter was handcuffed, had his fingerprints taken, was forced to give a DNA sample and spent five hours in gaol before being released on bail.

Somewhat defeating the object of opinion-writing journalism, I don't have much to say about this story, except that it makes me very angry. Yes, I know that most police officers aren’t like Farooq and that it's just an isolated incident blown up by a self-righteous alarmist press etc. etc., but I'm firmly of the opinion that anyone in a responsible public position – be they a politician or a lowly policeman – should have to pay the consequences for any deliberate misdeeds made on duty. Everyone makes mistakes, sure, but this wasn't a mistake. It was deliberate false arrest and wrongful imprisonment. Farooq showed that he was making a mockery of his job and, quite simply, should have been sacked.

Instead, he was made to apologise in person to Andrew Carter. Well, that’s all right then. Let bygones be bygones, let water pass under the bridge and let Farooq do it again to some other poor unsuspecting sod. Because he hasn't learnt his lesson. Why would he have done?

I've never liked the idea of having to apologise to someone being a punishment. When you're a child, maybe. But when you're an adult committing a professional crime, it's not quite enough, somehow. Farooq's boss also said, "he acknowledged what he did was wrong", which is taken straight out of the mouth of a chiding parent.

Pathetic. Sorry, is that not tabloid enough? It sickens me to the very core. That's better.

It's not often I agree with an idea suggested in a letter to The Daily Telegraph. I do enjoy reading them, usually for the terrified paranoia that Britain is going to be invaded by immigrant criminals at the behest of port-swilling Brussels bureaucrats (or the glum acceptance that it's already happened), but rarely do I agree with anything they're saying.

But one reader proposed that, if the British Government is so desperate for London 2012 Olympics money (and it is), it should make use of the fervour currently sweeping the nation and ask for voluntary donations to the fund. Good idea.

The public will have to put up some money anyway, and possibly for a long time afterward: Montreal hosted the Olympics in 1976, and Quebecian taxpayers were still paying for the main stadium, 'The Big O(we)', in December 2006 – more than 30 years later. Since no one likes taxes, raising them nearer the time to pay for the Olympics will make whomsoever is running the country by then very unpopular. It makes sense to ask for some of that money now, rather than demand it later. You may mock, but people have got carried away in the excitement of it all, especially since this British success has come as such a surprise (doesn't it always?). Ask the public to put its money where its mouth is and while it's still agape with shock, cash should come flowing out. Well, some will anyway; I'm not expecting millions to miraculously materialise overnight. But you never know.

The Beijing Olympics have, after all, provided an incredible spectacle. It takes some effort to sweep human rights abuses and some of the highest levels of air pollution in the developed world under the red carpet but by gum, they managed it (Chinese efficiency, you see). The opening ceremony stunned everyone into silence – even nine-year-old Lin Miaoke, who was meant to be singing – and the athletes did their bit too. I can even forgive Usain Bolt for being only two months older than me, because he's my kind of athlete. It's been a literally marvellous showcase of sport and athletics performed by competitors at the peak of their powers – exactly how the Olympics should be.

And most importantly for Britain in these crucial Games, we've done pretty well. 47 medals including 19 golds, placing Team GB 4th in the medals table, has shown that we'll be ready even if our stadiums won't. Cycling, sailing, rowing: it just goes to show that if we plucky Brits put our mind to it, we can be worldbeaters... as long as we're allowed to sit down.

And the British people want a great London Olympics. They're feeling inspired, but in all likelihood, most of them are too lazy to go down the gym or get the bike out of the garage; why not exploit their nationalistic euphoria by relieving them of their money and make them feel like they're contributing?

(Since you ask: no, I won't be paying anything.)

I did find it interesting, though, to hear that Led Zeppelin had to change the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love, which was performed at the handover ceremony on Sunday. Apparently "I'm gonna give you every inch of my love" is a bit risqué. It makes sense, perhaps, to change the line to "every bit of my love" – especially since Leona Lewis was singing it and, well, being a woman she doesn't have any inches to speak of – but it did remind me a bit of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' appearance on The Simpsons:

"The network has a problem with some of your lyrics. Do you mind changing them for the show?"

"Our lyrics are like our children, man – no way."

"OK, but here where it says, 'What I got you gotta get and put it in ya', how about just, 'What I'd like is I'd like to hug and kiss ya'?"

"Wow, that's much better. Everyone can enjoy that."

Personally, I find it ironic that in a celebration of Britain's emerging young talent, the music was provided by aged rockers reforming after nearly 30 years. Still, at least they're brilliant. It could so easily have been Take That.

One of my bête noirs – the one that isn't pretentious use of French – is scientists coming up with utterly useless discoveries.

Sometimes they're already obvious, sometimes they're just completely inapplicable to anything and sometimes they're both, but they happen all the time. If it's not a geneticist declaring that black parents have black children, it's a behavioural analyst claiming that people who had a happy childhood are more socially able than those who spent their formative years crying in a box. One case that irritated me last year was a study erroneously and irresponsibly claiming that pupils born later in the school year do "significantly worse" than those born up to a year earlier. My vitriol on that report has already been spent here.

Now Dr Will Brown has 'discovered' that men find "shorter, slimmer females with long slender legs, a curvy figure and larger breasts" most physically attractive. Well... obviously.

What is the point in dedicating time and money to this study? Even if the report has a scientific revelation somewhere (and I'm not sure it does), surely there is little merit in its results because everybody already knew them. It's so stupid. You get the feeling, too, that he would have found this out a lot quicker just by observing life had he not spent his in the lab.

The study also found that people prefer symmetry in a face, defusing the argument that "Everyone loves a face with character" (a character with a face, that's what you want). Again, we know this. And what exactly can you do as a result of these findings anyway? Get a face transplant? New body dimensions? Why would a scientist bother wasting his intelligence on investigating such a pointless issue?

It's not easy to make this argument as someone who wants to write for a living. After all, what am I doing to change the world? Would it be fair for me to say that anyone who commits themselves to a life of research should make sure it's cancer-related? No. But their research could at least be useful. And I personally don't believe that, when he was studying, Dr Will Brown dreamt he could one day blow apart the myth that most men are physically attracted to tall women with broad shoulders and no breasts. All we can do is hope that these people look inside themselves and use their experience more responsibly.

But I'm not hopeful. "In his next study, Dr Brown plans to prove how attractively tall men with short legs are able to dance."

WHY?

You can, of course, take the 'time and money' argument too far, as the Conservative Party did this week. I don't know if it was them personally or the Official Opposition line that has to be taken on things like this, but it did not endear me to Cameron & Co. in the slightest.

The Government recently released a short video response to the online petition asking for Jeremy Clarkson to become Prime Minister. Watch it here. It's less than a minute long and seems to have been made with a handheld video camera and Microsoft PowerPoint. No10 themselves admitted, "A member of staff put it together in a spare half-hour."

And what's the Tories' response? "While the British public is having to tighten its belt the Government is spending taxpayers' money on a completely frivolous project. This shows how detached the Labour Party has become from the concerns of the British people."

They're not alone. Some of the many angry YouTube comments include "waste of tax money" and "why are they using my money to make youtube videos?"

Surely this is some sort of joke? How much money can that video have cost? And isn't it good that the Government should try to cheer up a despondent public in the middle of a recession? Even if you'd rather politicians stuck to business, it would be insane to claim this is betraying the taxpayer. But that's what the Conservative Party is doing.

Grow up and get a sense of humour.

A fantastic action photo from England's 2-2 draw with the Czech Republic prompted me to think about its deeper meaning. Look closely at the England players in a wall and see what you can learn from their reactions to the free kick being taken. You may see more than you think.

(With thanks to Action Images, WNSL and The Daily Telegraph)

From right to left:

Beckham - distant from the rest, he looks on with barely feigned interest from his safe spot in America/at the far end of the wall. Also stupid enough not to know where his balls are.

Barry - trying hard but looks uneasy not in the middle and has Lampard and Gerrard standing in the way of a link-up with Rooney.

Lampard - wrestling for space with Gerrard and Barry. Higher than the rest but for how long?

Gerrard - holding his breath. So are we, Stevie.

Rooney - ugly bastard.

Ashley Cole - not the face. Or the balls - I need those for, uh, Cheryl. Jump? What do you mean, jump?

This is where I break down the unattractive reader-author barrier and get personal. Call it unprofessional; call it a desperate cry for help. I call it both.

I'm flying to Madeira tomorrow, and in the hubbub of planning I may have to resort to an abridged post next week. But I'll still be reading the news, and it's fair to say some of it caught my eye this week.

Rest assured that if you read all the news stories in the Beijing piece (I got a bit link-happy), you'll have enough of other people's writing, at least, to tide you over for a bit.

Beijing: King of the Bling but reputation suffering
Prophet Muhammad novel postponed
Women on the warpath (supposedly)
Ronaldo plays the waiting game

The lights, the noise, the spectacle – and yet what I’ve been drawn to most about the Beijing Olympics is the politics.

China has made it fantastically clear that it doesn’t want any trouble. At all. That means no complaints, please, be they about human rights, pollution or just good old fur. You have to wonder what would have happened if Tommie Smith and John Carlos had made their famous Black Power salute in these Olympics. Presumably they’d have been shot by a sniper from the Chinese government.

Protests about China’s…interesting past, present and probably future history with human rights abuses have come from everywhere, and it is fascinating to see how they are handled. Treatment from Chinese police (or Nepalese allies) towards people protesting about human rights issues seems to depend on where you come from, and reports abound about violence towards protestors.

The Chinese authorities saw this coming (guilty conscience any?) and made the ‘necessary’ precautions, but it’s fair to say they’ve raised a few eyebrows. My particular favourite is the protest pens, which have to be one the most inspired inventions in the history of the Olympics or some sort of ironic joke. Want to protest against our government’s practices? Apply for permission first, and if you’re lucky enough to get it, you can do it in an area cordoned off for troublemakers such as yourself. You can’t protest anywhere else. Human rights issues? What human rights issues?

These political problems, and the tragic death of an American tourist to the Games,

have cast a dark cloud over the 2008 Beijing Olympics. Look, there it is. You can see it. Smog has been an issue for China ever since it realised its pollution problems were at serious odds with blue-sky thinking, and even its most drastic measures to reduce it – including the destruction or relocation of cars, factories and people – don’t seem to have worked (though the gaffer tape has). Of particular interest to me were the American cyclists who wore masks to combat the pollution, and then had to apologise for insulting the Chinese. If they find that insulting, they should really avoid watching The Dark Knight. China doesn’t come out of it all that well.

All in all, it’s going to be a memorable Olympics, but not necessarily for the right reasons.

Probably for the best.

On Saturday BBC Online reported that, according to the Police Federation of England and Wales, “increasing numbers of violent women are stretching police resources”. They were backed up by police in Scotland and Northern Ireland – for balance purposes, you see – saying, “anecdotally”, that they have also seen an increase in female violence.

“Anecdotally”? You have to be careful of using that kind of evidence in a news story. In fact, is it even a news story? Or just some drunken pub talk from officers off the beat?

Chairman of the Police Federation, Paul McKeever, said, “Clearly there is an increase in the number of women who use violence in their everyday life and when they are out drinking on the streets around the country”.

Clearly. And clearly that’s not a generalisation at all. To be fair, statistics do partly back him up: there has been a 25% rise in crimes committed by girls between the ages of 10 and 17 in the last three years. The next sentence in the report: “Men and boys are still more likely to be involved in violent crime, however.”

Men and boys are still more likely to be involved in violent crime, however. That’s an important sentence. And when your only evidence for “increasing numbers of violent women” is for one particular age group, almost certainly matched by an increase in crimes committed by their male counterparts, and backed up by anecdotes, you’re on shaky ground.

But maybe I’m being naïve. Maybe my non-prediction last week of an increase in female violence has come true and they’ve exploited newly lax laws to attack everything and everyone in sight. Dear God, soon they will overwhelm we poor men, beguiling us with their feminine wiles, charming us into a dark alley and then stabbing us fatally with a five-inch stiletto heel (sorry, I’ve been in Essex too long).

Or, alternatively, this is a poorly-researched non-story that borders on sexism, for which the police and the BBC are equally culpable for a) bringing it up and b) reporting it.

It will be interesting to see the reaction Cristiano Ronaldo gets from the Manchester United fans at the start of this season. Having flirted with a high-money, high-profile move to Real Madrid, he has now committed his future to Manchester United.

Well, I say future. A year, at least. He insists he will “play for United with all [his] heart and soul”, but he’s openly admitted it’s still his dream to move to Madrid, and the smart odds are on the Madeiran w(h)inger sunning himself in Madrid this time next year (William Hill’s offering 5-6).

His 42 goals last season will probably ensure he gets a better reception that Emmanuel Adebayor did at the Emirates a week ago, but it will be hard for United fans to shake off a sense of mistrust towards Ronaldo, especially after some ill-chosen words this week. Alex Ferguson might not have helped matters by saying, “The boy has been through some troubled times in terms of the approaches from the people in Spain” – is choosing between two offers to do what you love for insane amounts of money really “troubled times”? – and then Ronaldo himself put his foot in it attempting to defend himself against claims he’s a money-grabber. “If it was just a question of money,” he said, “I would never leave Manchester United.” That both leaves the door open for a move in the near future and implies he’s been motivated by money this time round – after all, he wants to play for Real and he’s demanding £140,000 a week at United. Not a fantastic defence, all told.

He knows he’s got time yet to play for Real – he’s only 23 – and it’s good, I suppose, that he’s being quite so honest about it, but I’m not sure United fans will see it that way.

*tumbleweed*

Look, I'm sorry. I am. I really am. But what with jobbing, blogging once or twice a week over here and moving house and indeed city, I'm struggling to find the time to visit this dusty corner of the web.

It's a shitter, really. There's so much I want to comment about in all areas of the news, but it inevitably ends up instead on my Twitter account, sandwiched between football ramblings and rants at Neighbours.

Today: the Budget. I'd love to talk about it in more detail, but I've become so innured to 140 characters that -

Sorry. Old joke. The Budget was fascinating, but more for students of politics than of economics. The main talking point, really, is Alistair Darling's decision to axe Stamp Duty on first-time home buyers spending less than £250,000 on their property. Seeing as it's currently 1% of the property value, it'll probably save them around £2,000. Good stuff. Not quite as good, obviously, for the owners of million-pound homes, who are seeing their Stamp Duty rise 5%.

That'll be 5%, please
It's a move that sees Labour move to their traditionalist roots... oh, come on, we know that's bollocks. It's an appeal to their core voters, that's all, but what did you expect in a pre-election Budget? It's interesting, though, that penalising well-off southerners in the commuter belt whose homes have ballooned in value through no fault of their own may cost Labour as many votes as they win through helping first-time homeowners - who, by the way, won't be as poor as all that, since the move affects properties worth between £125,000 and £250,000. Basically, mummy and daddy's mansion tax pays for their first step towards their own mansion. What's that song? We are all bourgeois now?

Still, this Stamp Duty move will probably end up a votewinner rather than a voteloser, which is more than you can say for David Cameron's efforts with Gay Times. If you wanted proof the only principle this man has is that he should win the election, there you go. "What's my stance on gay people again? Wait, I know this one. Turn the camera off, let me get my crib sheet... "

Cameron: direct (well, not really)
So in conclusion, I'm rubbish, Cameron's rubbish, the Budget happened and if you are reading this, thanks for sticking with me. Now I'm settled, almost unpacked and actually have the internet at home, I can start blogging on here a bit more often than once every Twilight film.

I'm back, I promise, and I'll start... oh, next week sometime.

A couple years ago, someone handed me a copy of the The Paleo Diet for Athletes, by Dr. Loren Cordain & Joe Friel. In the book's pages, the authors claimed that eating a diet closer to what our Paleolithic ancestors ate has amazing benefits. A diet that eliminates grains, dairy products and legumes and replaces them with an increased intake of animal proteins and healthy fats, along with plenty of vegetables and fruit results in improved body composition, more energy, superior athletic performance, reduced illness and reduction in the risk factors for the modern long-term illnesses like heart disease and diabetes.

Ever the cynic, after reading the book, I set it aside as another fad diet (Adkins, Zone, Hollywood, South Beach) that promised incredible results, yet failed to deliver. But several times over the last several months, I had conversations with friends and fellow athletes who embarked on this way of eating and reported results quite similar to what Dr. Cordain and Mr. Friel claimed. I began to do some research, discovering that Paleo and similar eating philosophies (Primal, PaNu) seems to have nearly universally positive results for those willing to embrace the change. Maybe there was something to this after all.

On March 1, I began my own Paleo journey, adhering to the following principles.

What I stopped eating (or ate a LOT less of)

Month 1:

• No grains (including breads and other baked goods, pasta, cereal, granola, oats, quinoa and rice)
• Minimal dairy (occassionally using some butter for cooking and a small amounts of cheeses like feta or in salads). No milk, no yogurt, no cream. Of course, no ice cream. Ouch.
• No legumes (including all beans, peanuts and soy products).
• Starchy carbohydrates: potatoes
• Refined sugar products: soft drinks (including things like packaged iced teas... ever read the nutrition label of an Arizona Iced Tea?), candy.

• Still no grains, except for the occasional cheat meal.
• Minimal dairy, but now have added full fat organic whole milk as an indulgence (maybe a glass a week) and whole cream in my coffee.
• Dramatically reduced legumes: I try to avoid peanuts, soy... will have some black beans on occasion.
• Starchy carbs (sweet potatoes, parsnips) only immediately before or after hard exercise sessions. I am still avoiding potatoes.

• Fundamentally, Paleo or Primal eating is about "real" food. Unprocessed, as close to the source as you can get. If it's a packaged food, the fewer ingredients the better. But ideally, this style of eating minimizes consumption of foods that come in boxes, cans or jars.
• Meat: beef, chicken, fish, pork. A quick aside about meat. It is pretty well-documented that there is wide variation in quality when it somes to the meat available at the grocery store. Most "factory" cows and chickens are fed a non-optimal diet of grains and soy. When possible, we purchase pasture-raised, organic or wild meat. In the case of beef, we acquired a 1/2 steer from a local supplier, so all our beef at home is grass-fed. We buy the best chicken available at the local groceries, but due to cost and availability this isn't always pastured or organic. Same goes with the fish; wild when possible, but sometimes we eat farm-raised.
• Eggs: Organic or pasture-raised when possible... but again, sometimes we are limited by what is on hand at the local Wal-mart or Kroger.
• Vegetables: broccoli, asparagus, various squashes, onions, mixed greens, leafy greens (kale, spinach, swiss chard), bell peppers... the list goes on. You get the idea, lots of veggies.
• Fruit: berries, mandarin oranges, apples, bananas.
• Nuts and seeds: almonds (and almond butter, milk), pecans, macadamia.

• Breakfast: scrambled eggs and fruit (apples, bananas) and on the weekend, bacon.
• Lunch: Big salad with greens, colorful veggies and chicken, tuna, beef and turkey. Basic oil and vinegar dressing or homemade vinaigrette.
• Dinner: Steak, chicken, fish, some cooked veggies and a green salad.
• Snacks: a handful of nuts, some trail mix, celery or apples with almond butter, baby carrots, sliced red bell peppers with some hummus. Will have a protein shake (with almond milk and some fruit) after a big workout.

• Daily calories: 1876
• I was somewhat surprised by how low this was. For reference, my Basal Metabolic Rate (daily calories burned at rest) is 1986.
• Carbs (g): 139 29.64% of total
• Here, Mark Sisson of MarksDailyApple.com talks about an ideal range of 50-100g per day for weight loss and 100-150g for maintenance, plus roughly 100g for each hour of training.
• Fat (g): 94.5 45.3% of total
• Nothing remarkable here... certainly more than the 44-78g range recommended by the Mayo Clinic, but not surprising considering all the nuts, avocado, healthy oils, and of course, a good amount of animal fat.
• Protein (g): 117.3 25.01% of total
• Way more than the FDA's 56g Recommended Daily Allowance (RDI), but quite close to the.7-1.0g per lb of lean body weight guideline recommended by many fitness trainers for those looking to increase lean muscle mass.
• Fiber (g): 24.69
• Depending on where you look, most experts recommend a fiber intake between 20-35g per day. I ended up well within this range... despite no grains. Amazing to think vegetables have fiber. Whooda thunk?

On April 1st, I upped the intensity of my training somewhat added in some longer cycling sessions, while continuing my strength training as well. Total volume came in just under 65 minutes avg per day (72% cycling/rowing/running, 28% strength training)

Weight change.
March 1: 209.6.
April 1: 193.6
May 1: 189.0

Very dramatic weight loss the first two weeks (about 12 lbs), since then it has slowed to about 1 lb per week.

Performance and strength gains are evident. A few data points:

One set standard pushup max:
March 1: 43, May 2: 78
TRX Low Row/Atomic Pushups (aka 40/40 challenge):
March 1: 18 pushups/26 low rows; April 29: 40 pushups/41 low rows

There was some initial impact on my endurance the first two weeks... my energy level crashed after about 20 minutes into any extended cardio workout. But this subsided and my energy levels and endurance improved and exceeded previous levels after this transition period. In fact, I set a new indoor rowing half marathon personal best on March 27 and my strength on my bike is improving every day.

Overall impressions on changing to this way of eating:

I'm not going to lie. The first couple of weeks, I was craving bread, rice and pasta... it was such a cornerstone of my meals that it seemed strange to have a meal without some starchy carb in it. But, now I am used to it and am perfectly satisfied with a plate full of veggies with some protein, whether its in the form of a big salad, or some cooked veggies and a nice portion of roasted chicken or steak.

Benefits:

• Improved body composition: I am losing body fat consistently, and thanks to a consistent exercise routine, building lean body mass and improving strength. What else can I ask for?
• Energy levels: More consistent throughout the day. No post-meal "food comas". No energy crash in the afternoon.
• Sleep: Generally improved, once I'm out, I am out until about 8-9 hours later.
• More consistant hunger patterns: I am rarely "starving". I eat three times per day... moderately sized meals, but I rarely find myself super hungry like before.

• Eating while out or traveling: paleo/low carb options can be hard to come by while eating out or on the road, particularly for breakfast. I am getting used to special ordering.
• Food preparation time: So many of the quick foods available are grain based, so it can be inconvenient to cook every meal. Grabbing a pizza on the way home from the kid's softball practice is no longer in the cards. Or if we do, I have to make my own meal while they eat pizza. Which begs the question, are my kids eating paleo? Yes and no, but that's the subject of another post.
• Cost: Protein is expensive. Carbs are cheap. Enough said.

In August, only a couple of weeks after starting this blog, I wrote a post called 'Electioneering'. Still one of my better efforts, it discussed negative campaigning in America and that moment when David Miliband decided to imply to a throng of nonplussed people that he was going to force out Gordon Brown.

Writing today, I notice some similarities, hence the title 'Electioneering (Part Two)'. It's interesting to see how things can develop: then, Labour looked dead in the water and Brown on his way out; now, he's resurgent and may be able to help them out of this hole yet. And then, John McCain was engaging in some full-scale negative campaigning, doing everything in his power to weaken Obama's reputation; now, he has lost the election and made an admirably humble concession speech.

Here's to change.

Historic black man wins historic black election to become historic black President
The Emperor's New Glenrothes
Indy hit by the wind of change
Misleading Headline Of The Week

Congratulations to Barack Obama, then, for winning the Presidential election (he's reading this). He's already inspired millions – to vote, apart from anything else – and we can only hope he is able to fulfil his promises and lead America and the world into recovery. By the way, did you know he's black?

The BBC's live election coverage was, on the whole, pretty good, although Jeremy Vine's little touchscreen thing analysing individual counties was wholly unnecessary. Who does he think he is, Peter Snow? His brother, Tim, would have been better. Still, the coverage was mostly good. One thing I did find very annoying, though, was David Dimbleby's insistence on bringing the election back to race.

Now I'm as fully aware as anyone else of the importance of Obama's race in the context of the election.

It shouldn't be important, but it is – and yes, I was worried he would lose to John McCain thanks to a few (well, more than a few) deep-seated racists in the south of America. I would still love to see their reactions now: jaws still over the floor, I imagine, like Pam and Tommy just burst through the door. I am glad that analysts made note of the race issue and were happy to bring it up in political discussion, instead of sweeping it under the carpet and saying, "Well, his race may affect the outcome of the election, I suppose, but I don't think like that and anyway, is he black? I hadn't noticed." For better or worse (definitely worse), Barack Obama's race mattered, and it is right that the BBC confronted it in their election coverage.

However. Was there any need for David Dimbleby to contextualise the result to nearly every state with its ethnic diversity ratio? "And Obama is projected to win Massachusetts – 40% of the population there of an ethnic background, of course... and he is also projected to win Rhode Island – 29% of the population black... McCain is projected to take Texas... no black people there at all, obviously... but Obama is projected to win North Carolina... 51% of people there from an ethnic background... " It became stupid, and very unnecessary anyway; if the statistic had really mattered then it would have made sense, but it really was as if he though being black was the only reason Obama would have received any votes. And when you also consider his stumbling, fumbling, bumbling presenting, it really is time Dimbleby went.

Whether it's right, meanwhile, for some people to vote for Obama purely on the premise that he is of a certain ethnicity, I don't quite know. In an ideal world we would all vote... well, we would all vote, for a start. But, to finish that sentence, in an ideal world we would all vote on policy, comparing parties' intentions and voting for the one most in accord with our own beliefs. Sadly, however, that's not the case, and it's definitely not the case in America, where you could have to drive several miles to find someone who has even heard of the world 'policy'.

So is it right to vote for someone because they're black? I don't know. It isn't right to vote against someone because they're black, so is it OK to vote for them for the same reason? Is it different in this case because Obama has made history, empowered millions of African-American citizens and showed that the civil rights movement in America had a greater effect than anyone could ever have imagined (Deep Impact scriptwriters aside)? I don't know. But it's done now: Obama is President, and personally, I'm very glad.

By the way, is anyone else still having terrifying visions of 'Obama' ripping off his mask to reveal Hillary Clinton laughing maniacally and shouting, "The fools!"? No? Just me then.

In the second most crucial vote of national importance this week (sorry, X-Factor), Labour won the by-election in Glenrothes, which borders Gordon Brown's constituency in Kirkcaldy and Cowdenbeath. It's a big by-election, and one that has had some justified build-up: with all the problems Labour were having, it looked as though the SNP would be able to overturn their 10,664 majority. Then the economy really hit the skids and it became Brown's time to shine. And now they've won this big, very big, by-election that, as the Prime Minister claims, actually does signify a vote of confidence in his handling of the economy.

Given that we're not quite in a stage of throwing money around in celebration just yet, it really is one hell of a result for the Prime Minister. This is the seat of his neighbouring constituency, and it looked certain Labour would lose it. That would have been a killer blow. But Brown is showing himself to be a strong leader in an economic crisis, and he could just emerge out of this recession a hero. He's doing as well as could be expected at the moment, that's for sure.

But it's not a Brown Bounce. Stop calling it that. The Brown Bounce happened when he took over as Prime Minister and had an immediate surge of popularity, which generally happens with all new Prime Ministers. This, on the other hand, is mere popularity. Will it last? Who knows? But there's probably no man happier to be in a recession.

Considering its love for all things apocalyptic, I wonder how long it will be before The Independent splashes its own face across its front page with the headline 'THE DEATH OF INDEPENDENT THOUGHT'. It could work in a Russian Doll picture-within-a-picture kind of way, which would look cool: a series of ever-smaller front pages proclaiming the death of a species – the whining middle-ground newspaper.

You see, The Indy is dying on its arse a little bit, and even though its not-right-wing status makes me prefer it to dishrags such as The Daily Mail and the eerily-booming Evening Standard, I wouldn't be that disappointed to see it go. It's a long time since The Independent cared about reporting the news, and although the fresh-faced idealist in me years ago loved to find out what else in the world should be outraging me over my morning biscuits, I very quickly grew bored of hearing about the various ways in which I'll wake up dead tomorrow. Tsunamis. Superbugs. Suicide bombers. If The Indy was a conspiracy theorist it would be Where Are All The Bees? As it is, it's a newspaper with one headline: 'WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE'.

The fact is that newspapers are struggling as a breed. We hip young gunslingers called student journalists are being constantly warned that print is a dying aspect of journalism because everything happens online now, and sadly, that's largely true. Why wait for a newspaper Tuesday morning when you can read a story on your computer at work on Monday afternoon? The current financial crisis is not helping newspaper circulation – look how badly The Daily Star Sunday is doing – simply because it makes more sense to read the paper online for free than to buy it in print, although unsurprisingly, the FT is doing pretty well at the moment.

It is predicted four national newspapers will go under in the next five years. If The Independent is not one of these, I will eat a copy of it.

Fittingly, one of the reasons for its failure is a reluctance and consequent slowness to get into online development. It is paying the price for that now. My own interpretation of its spiralling downturn is simpler: that in these times of real crisis, people want to read the news. Here, The Indy cannot help you.

It looks like a question of when, not if, for The Independent. Perhaps this is a shame after all. I can think of worse newspapers. Anyway, the Mail is suffering. That's funny.

The BBC has to stop doing this.

OK, so last week Huw Davies' Week Spot became Huw Davies' Weak Spot as I failed to post, well, anything of note. But hey, that's in the past now! So let's get back on track with a fresh look at the week that is now, uh, in the past.

I knew there was a flaw in this somewhere.

(By the way, the title 'No. 10' refers not just to the focus on Downing Street in the first article, but that this is also the 10th Week Spot post. Thanks for sticking with me through the rough patches.)

Move along, nothing to see here
Tsvangirai ready to dance with the devil
In defence of Andy Murray
One small step for reality TV; one giant leap for mankind

Divisions in the Government mean it's to the bunkers again as The Sunday Telegraph proclaims 'LABOUR IN CIVIL WAR'. It'd be enough to get you worried if it wasn't for the fact that this is probably the fourth time they've declared a civil war in the Government in the last few weeks. When did it start exactly?

Anyway, rifts do seem to be rife – but leadership challengers AWOL. It seems that many Labour MPs have nothing better to do than shout for a new leader, but when it comes to suggesting one they mutter, grumble and draw cartoons of Gordon Brown with an arrow through his head.

Brown needs a good autumn and a better winter. It doesn't look as though he is going to deposed now, because no one seems ready to take his place (alternatively, this makes interesting reading). This is why the timing of the Glenrothes by-election is crucial. If Brown waits and waits, toughing it all out all the while,

rides out the storm to emerge the other side and somehow wins that by-election, he's right back on track. But if he waits and loses, he is done for. If he holds the by-election now and loses (which he almost certainly will), he might just get away with it. Is it right to lose a seat to save the PM? Sometimes a pawn must be sacrificed for a king. But then I was never any good at chess.

The point is this: no one is coming forth to lead the country, so Gordon Brown is safer than he may seem. The Labour Party is not. They are at a crossroads and they need to take one of two paths (uh, maybe more of a fork in the road, then). Either unite and resolve to force a leadership challenge or shut up, show some genuine party unity and get behind Brown.

And yes, some of this is up to Brown himself. By carrot or by stick, he needs to regain control of his party. The party needs to either let this happen, or find someone else to take control instead. This is government, for goodness' sake – the country needs a leader with his own people behind him, not behind him with a dagger at the ready.

Decisions, decisions. Someone's got to make one.

Forget 'WORLD WAR 3 BREAKS OUT'. Forget 'McCAIN WINS AMERICAN ELECTION'. This may well be the most terrifying headline I can ever imagine.

'MORGAN TSVANGIRAI: "I WILL HAVE TO TRUST MUGABE"'

That sends a shiver down my spine. I don't pretend to understand African politics all that well, but I do know that Robert Mugabe is one of the most evil men alive – stop me when I get too emotionally involved – and that trusting him may be a risky strategy. Apologies for succumbing to Godwin's Law, but Chamberlain trusted Hitler and look where that got us. He invaded Britain, won the war and now we all speak German (wait, what?).

Sorry. I don't want to make a mockery of what is a seriously tragic situation in Zimbabwe. And to be fair, I don't think Tsvangirai wants to trust Mugabe. He just realises he may have to. But this is why the power-sharing solution isn't a solution at all: Tsvangirai's MDC will only ever be a junior partner to Mugabe's Zanu-PF, they will struggle to exert any influence over him and atrocities will continue.

But then, I suppose, what else could Tsvangirai do? Not a lot. It's still up to other nations to intervene in some way, and I worry that this new development involving a sharing of power will only delay that, while governments naïvely think they can stop worrying about this troublesome country for a while. More positively, they may be giving the new system time to work, and I suppose this has to happen – but surely, a few months should be enough to see if there is at least any movement towards change. And again, I'm not confident, because Mugabe is not some repentant sinner looking o right his wrongs. He never saw his crimes as wrongs, and sees no reason to change the status quo.

Tsvangirai told The Independent on Sunday, "When you negotiate, you ought to have faith and confidence in each other. Otherwise, there is no point in negotiating, because you are bound to fail. I am therefore giving [Mugabe] the benefit of the doubt." Except of course, in this case there WAS point in negotiating without having faith and confidence in your partner, and that's that there was no way Tsvangirai was going to win through the ballot box. Hell, he did, and he still didn't prise Mugabe from power. This is not a man to whom you give the benefit of the doubt.

I know he's been pressured into this, and that it's not ideal circumstances for him. But I just hope Tsvangirai knows what lies in store. Because mark my words: this is not the beginning of democracy in Zimbabwe. I hope and pray it is, but I'm a man of lesser faith than its new co-leader.

So on Sunday 7th/Monday 8th September (depending where you live), Andy Murray played Roger Federer in the US Open final, and lost. It was a sad day for him and a predictable day for everyone. All in all, it was probably a lovely birthday present for Tim Henman, who turned 34 the day before the final: for all his proclamations of support, confidence and hope for Murray, the fact remains that it's hard to like anyone doing your job better than you, especially when that job is entertaining the British crowd as well as looking like you might win something, neither of which Henman could do.

But 'Tiger Tim' can sleep easily at night knowing that, inexplicably, he's still more popular than Andy Murray. For some reason, soon to be discussed, everyone – or at least everyone I've met – hates the talented young Scot.

And I think the reasons lie in those three words: "talented young Scot". The first two are an unhappy couple in jealous armchair sports fanatics: it's hard not to feel a bit useless when you're watching someone achieve so much more than you ever could at the same age you finished university (and I'm not just talking about myself here, although I am struggling to come to terms with being older than two of the top four tennis players in the world – Murray and Djokovic – and only four months younger than one of the others, Rafael Nadal). So Murray's young and talented, and finally, he's Scottish. And therein lies the hatred. Good old-fashioned racism.

To be fair to Murray-haters, they probably aren't racists and I doubt most hold anything against the Scottish apart from perhaps a mild xenophobia. It may be the same general mistrust that a lot of people – not least the idiot Kelvin MacKenzie – love showing towards Gordon Brown now the 'mean, Scottish, money-grabbing Chancellor' has become the 'mean, Scottish, money-grabbing Prime Minister'. It may be that English tennis fans don't like the idea of a Scotsman representing the UK ahead of anyone else. It may just be that they don't like the premise of a Monty Python sketch being ruined (do your own research for that one). It may be any of these things, but it seems that regardless of how well he does, Murray is in for a hard time from his own compatriots. Still, he's only got himself to blame. Because it can all be traced back to this comment:

"I'll be supporting anyone but England."

These words, spoken in reference to the 2006 Football World Cup, consigned him to a lifetime of antipathy in the views of many, many English people. It doesn't matter that he has no reason to support England; it doesn't matter that he was joking. It's too late now. He spat in the eyes of English sports fans, and they don't want their beams messed with, thank you very much, but by the way, you've got a mote in yours.

Obviously not everyone feels this way about Murray, or at least claim they don't. But the other arguments for disliking him do seem pretty thin. Most say it's because he's arrogant. Really? The man who told everyone not to get carried away when he first burst onto the scene? The man who readily admits to having faults in his game and confessed to not having prepared enough for the Olympics? The man who, after his recent defeat to Federer, was self-effacing, had only praise for his opponent and avoided making excuses such as a lack of time to prepare? Sorry, where's the fault there?

Is it all the emotions he pours out in a game? Yes, he does look like a bit of a tit. He's practically demonic in this photo, with the rectangular mouth and all. But why should we hate him for wearing his heart on his sleeve? He's showing a bit of fire; that he cares, and after following in the footsteps of a British no1 who looked like farting was just too much effort, he should be applauded for it.

Or is it that he does well? Deny it all you like: the British love a gallant loser. But as a sporting nation, we're starting to thrive. Look at the Olympics! Look at the Paralympics! Look at the Champions' League! It's OK, we can win things now!

So we're back to the racism card again, which wasn't an issue until he said he wouldn't support the English football team. I don't expect you to agree with me, but I think that's what it boils down to. Sorry.

My next and last subject matter may surprise some of you, since a) it relates to something that happened a while ago and b) I hate reality TV. But I've heard a lot of talk about it this week, making it suitable for a 'week spot', and it means I get to include 'Gossip' as a topic tag now.

So, as I understand it, there's a once-popular programme every year on Channel 4, T4, E4, More4, EvenMore4, YetMore4, SurelyThereCanBeNoMore4, YourFour, MyFour, OurFour, TheirFour, Channel 4 + 1, E4 + 1, More 4 + 1, More 4 + 2 = 6, 4OD, 4COD, 4ADHD, ScoreFour, BoreFour, ChoreFour, PoorFour, HardcoreFour, Softcore4, IntermediatecoreFour, ForeplayFour, WhoreFour, SoreFour, LawFour, WarFour, I Can't Believe It's Not Four, I Can't Believe It's Not Four + 1 and certain frequencies of Al-Jazeera that's called Big Brother. And, as I understand it, someone called Rachel won this year (?). Finally, I am led to understand that she's incredibly boring and may have spelt the death of reality television.

Give the woman an MBE.

But yes, she won, did she? And she beat some bloke who was really nasty? Called Rex? Is that right? And Rachel winning when she's, like, sooooo boring is bad for the programme?

But good for humanity, surely. The British public chose someone nice over a complete and utter bastard (American election voters, take note). That's very encouraging. What with Jade Goody's illness turning people into monsters who think she's somehow faking cancer or if not that she deserves it – I mean, I hate Jade Goody but I wouldn't wish cancer on her... maybe that she stubbed her toe one morning – it's good to know there might still be some hope for humanity yet.

And when you're drawing that conclusion from reality TV, you know you're in trouble.

Damn, even without having to go very far, getting ready for this race required a very early wakeup call. Since I was catching a ride with my sister-in-law, who was volunteering and had to be at the transition area at 4:30, my alarm went off at the unholy hour of 3am. Ouch. I should have driven myself…not sure what I was thinking... it’s not like I had a long trip. Oceanside Harbor is all of fifteen minutes from my house. Dumb.
I showered and than had a pretty standard brekkie of one strong cup of coffee, two slices of toast and a bowl of cereal. Other last minute prep included a double check of my gear bag, topping off my tires to 110 psi, then out the door at 4:15.

Amazingly, despite the fact that I was at transition at 4:30 and it wasn’t scheduled to open until 4:45, I was not the first person to arrive. There were at least a dozen other bikes in the transition area (and not just the pros who I believe rack their bikes the night before).

Over the next two hours I did the standard pre-race stuff. Set up my gear, got bodymarked, hit the porta potty (twice), did a 15 minute warm up run, chatted with some friends and laid down using my bag as a pillow for about 20 minutes while I listened to my iPod and tried to relax. The time went quickly and before I knew it, it was 6:40…time to get my wetsuit on and get ready for my 7:03 race start.

Swim
The water was not nearly as cold as last year. Once the race got going, I found it quite comfortable actually. I found a rhythm pretty quickly and felt good. The water was nice and calm, but as we neared the mouth of the harbor near the turnaround, the waves were pretty rough. This combined with the rising sun made sighting a bit of a challenge. Once we turned around, a kayaker was yelling at everyone to swim toward the high-rise building on the horizon. This was a big help. Got to the finish with no problems with a time of 28:59. Right on target with what I expected. I swam about a minute faster last year, but I have only been swimming sporadically…so my expectations were very conservative.
There was a long run around the transition area to my bike. I took the time to put on socks, but decided to skip the arm warmers, as it didn’t feel all that cold.

Bike
Once out on the bike, I told myself to race smart. I’ve done very little volume on the bike, and I knew that any pacing mistakes would be disastrous. So, I got into my aero position, sipped on some sports drink and just tried to stay conservative. Plenty of guys flew by me, but I kept the ego in check and let them go. After the first little climb on Stuart Mesa, I started to feel a bit nauseous and by the time I got to the Las Pulgas turnaround…my stomach was in serious distress. I slowed to a stop, pulled over and puked up my entire breakfast (and probably some of the previous night’s dinner as well). Maybe too much ocean water? I’m not sure. I felt a bit better and got going again. My nutrition plan was three gels, one bottle of sports drink (GuH20 + whatever was on the course), and three Thermolyte pills per hour. I had nothing but sports drink before getting sick, so I stuck to my plan and tried to get some calories in my system. The stomach wasn’t having it and I did a nice rolling puke (first time I’ve done that!) at around Mile 25 and again at Mile 40. Despite the puking, my legs felt pretty solid. No issues on the first climb on San Mateo and I spun up the remaining climbs with no real problems. The course was quite a bit windier this year…the descent on Dead Man’s Curve was kind of sketchy, the bike was getting blown around a bit. The headwind coming down Vandergrift was also nastier this year. In 2007, I remember cruising the final 10 miles at 23-24 mph with little effort, this year I was pressing to
maintain 21.
Rolled into T2 with a 2:49 split, about 13 minutes slower than last year. Some of that was due to the wind…and stopping to puke didn’t help either. As I rolled into Hot Corner, I briefly considered calling it a day; knowing that the lack of calories in my system would have dire repercussions on the run. But I figured I paid my 200 clams, I better get my money’s worth! It was time to HTFU.

Run
Quick transition and came out of T2 running on pure adrenaline…managed 6:40’s for the first two miles and hit the four mile marker at 27 even. I saw Andy Potts and Craig Alexander go by me on The Strand…it appeared they had a race going; Alexander was nipping on Pott’s heels. The fans at the finish line were in for a quite a show!
For me, the wheels started to fall off at around Mile 5… I started to cramp and feel pretty faint. I resorted to walking and sipping on Coke and water at every aid station. It helped some and I managed to keep it down and did the ‘jog between aid stations’ routine the remaining nine miles. Run split was 1:43 and finish time was 5:08.
Apparently I looked pretty terrible, because the volunteers escorted me to medical after I crossed the line.
My time was a pretty big drop off from last year (4:45), so I’m somewhat disappointed. But I’m happy that I managed to finish the race in a respectable time despite everything not going as I hoped. I’m still not exactly sure what caused me to have stomach problems…that’s the first time that’s ever happened to me in nearly a dozen 70.3 and IM races.
For now, the wife and I are going on a little vacation for some R&R. When we return, I will probably try to dissect this a bit more and see what lessons I can extract from the experience.

Thanks for reading.

Sometimes I think there’s too much news. There were at least ten stories I wanted to write about or at least mention this week, but that would be playing havoc on my timetable and your patience.

For one, my local rag The Essex Chronicle – average paper, average toilet paper, brilliant inspirator for the best send-up of local news there is, The Framley Examiner – had a piece this week on an anonymous benefactor who paid a man’s court fine and gave him money to feed his nine children. He called himself Robin Hood. Admirable, certainly, but questionable too: if he lives by Robin Hood’s standards, he has presumably been helping the poor by first stealing from the rich.

One for the authorities, I feel.

Ultimately – and I predict this to be a sad necessity that won’t go away – I have to pick and choose what to write about.

But by no means are these the biggest stories of the week. Writing about the news doesn't always work that way. Sometimes I find a story interesting but know others won't. Sometimes the story is interesting but doesn’t provoke enough of a reaction in me to warrant writing my opinions on it, or I simply don’t have much to say on the matter. Sometimes I don’t have the space in this blog to study and evaluate the subtle complexities of a case and strengths and weaknesses of an argument.

And sometimes I just don't care.

Brown loses the dole poll
Obama's speech raises questions as well as answers
'Kiss and tell' stories Maxed out by Mosley
Okereke shaky after Johnny gets Rotten
They don't know they're born

When it was announced that under new Government plans unemployed people will have to work for their benefit payouts, I immediately reminded myself to keep a close eye on the by-election in Glasgow East just a few days later. Glasgow East has more benefit claimants than any other constituency. Announcing the plans days before this crucial by-election was brave to say the least.

And sure enough, Labour lost. And even though the margin was only 365 votes, it was a massive defeat. Gordon Brown’s grasp on No. 10 now looks at its absolute weakest, and with the Conservatives calling for an election and his own party looking toward a new leader, it seems but a matter of time before he goes.

You have to feel a bit sorry for Margaret Curran, Labour’s Glasgow East candidate. She has been utterly shafted. Even with the SNP requiring a 22% swing to win, she was always up against it with Gordon Brown being Enemy #1 at the moment. And then the killer blow – a tougher time for benefit claimants.

It’d be a great shame if the scheme, revealed by Work and Pensions Secretary James Purnell on Monday 21st July, ends up to be the final nail in Brown’s coffin. Because it’s actually very good. Despite The Daily Telegraph’s report opening with a wonderful sentence as contradictory as it was polemic – "the unemployed will be forced to do voluntary work" – the plans deserve to be lauded for their attempt to a) expose benefit cheats and b) get the unemployed working again.

And it’s not as if they are being reduced to slave labour the moment they hit the dole queue either. Anyone claiming unemployment benefit for more than a year will have to do four weeks of unpaid work. That’s hardly unreasonable. In fact, it’s only right for those happy to live a life on benefits. That should never be an option while you can still work, and Purnell’s plan – which will see those claiming for two years having to work full-time – looks like it may help to bring a stop to it. It will also force drug addicts to seek treatment if they wish to secure benefits, which is more good news.

So all in all, it’s a fantastic development. Shame it’s probably just killed Gordon Brown’s career.

His speech to Berlin on Thursday July 24th set in stone the world’s love affair with Barack Obama. The Berlin crowd helped his rock star image. "O-BA-MA," they chanted, "O-BA-MA." "Thank you," he repeatedly shouted back, seemingly trying to shut them up so he could get on with it.

Part apology for his country’s misdeeds,

part European history lesson and mostly promise of a better future, the 30-minute speech acknowledged the continental drift between America and Europe caused by ever-growing mistrust and resolved to unite the two once more in healing the wounds of the Bush administration. It was one hell of a speech.

But will it be enough? Not to cure the world’s ills – Obama’s not God, despite what sections of the media suggest – but for him to get the chance to try by winning the US presidential election first?

Ah yes, the election. In our Obamania, we seem to have forgotten about the formality of the great man becoming President first. John McCain hasn’t. He’s been questioning the media’s stance and, like German Chancellor Angela Merkel, the appropriateness of Obama delivering a speech in Berlin. McCain said he too would love to speak to Berliners, but "as president... rather than as a candidate". And maybe he has a point.

The concern for Obama, despite the enormous success of the speech, is whether he is targeting the right audience. He may be preaching to the converted. It is absolutely admirable that he should put aside campaigning to address Europe, in his own words, "as a citizen" (he made practically no reference to the leadership race), but he risks alienating voters back in the US. America votes, not Europe, and having done the job in the latter, Obama needs to keep his eyes on the prize. In short: he should get selfish, at least until – if – he wins the election.

If Obama wants to win America, he should remember: you’ve got to be in it to win it.

Motor racing chief Max Mosley, the man with probably the most publicised sexual fetishes in the world, won his case against the News of the World, after the paper alleged he was involved in a "Nazi-style orgy" with five prostitutes.

The judge, Mr Justice Eady, announced that the press had no right to publish private matters not constituting a serious crime. Implications for freedom of press aren’t good, with many proclaiming the death of 'kiss and tell' stories or even investigations into public figures’ private lives altogether.

Personally, I’m in favour of the press publishing whatever it likes as long as it isn’t dangerous in any way. That is, literally dangerous. For example, The Drudge Report’s irresponsible (but highly valued) exposure of Prince Harry serving in Afghanistan, which risked soldiers’ lives by drawing attention to one very famous comrade, or The Daily Express, the self-proclaimed “World’s Greatest Newspaper”, revealing the secret whereabouts of Mark Thatcher, a man with a bounty on his head. I don’t agree with the concept of a scoop at any cost, if that cost is life. Clearly I’m going to be a crap journalist, but them’s my Principles, which I have been made to understand are more than a high street fashion chain.

But the revelation of Mosley’s orgy was not dangerous. Embarrassing, perhaps – does it really save face to demand privacy in a high-profile court case, rather than just try to keep quiet about the whole sorry mess? – but not dangerous. Frankly, it saddens me that anyone should care about ‘stories’ like this, but while they do the media should be allowed to give them what they want.

Do we have a right to know about the private lives of public figures? Maybe. Maybe not. But Justice Eady’s example of supposedly transgressive journalism – "Would it justify installing a camera in someone’s home in order to catch him or her smoking a spliff? Surely not" – was a poorly chosen one for, as The Daily Telegraph pointed out annoyingly before I had the chance, what if that person was a politician leading a vehement anti-drugs campaign? Then the public should know.

As much as I hate ‘kiss and tell’ stories myself, people seem to want to know about what public figures get up to, and in some cases, they need to. Perhaps in Mosley’s case they didn’t, but Justice Eady may have just thrown the baby out with the bathwater.

There was some worrying news from Spain’s Summercase festival, as Bloc Party frontman Kele Okereke claimed he was the subject of an unprovoked racist attack from ex-Sex Pistols leader and legend in his own lunchtime, John Lydon, a.k.a. Johnny Rotten, a.k.a. talentless arsehole who has been living off one album for 30 years.

I’m not one to take sides without knowing the full story, but quotes from those involved present some interesting contradictions. Somehow Okereke’s story seems more likely. Lydon’s protestations of innocence ("I feel very sorry for a man that needs to lie about what was a perfect evening") paint a scene out of a Famous Five book, while Okereke insists it was more of an Enid Blyton golliwog incident. Okereke claims Lydon and his entourage ranted about his "black attitude" and started a fight also involving members of Foals and the Kaiser Chiefs (the most interesting thing they’ve done to date) that resulted in some nasty bruises for the Bloc Party singer.

If his interviews are anything to go by, Okereke certainly has an attitude, and arguably quite a bad one. But "a black attitude"? What is that, exactly? Lydon’s denied saying it, obviously, but dropped himself in it a bit by adding that Okereke should "Grow up and learn to be a true man", concluding, "When you have achieved as much as I have, come back and talk to me." The first of those statements implies that there was a fight and Lydon is accusing Okereke of running to mummy, while the latter is just embarrassing.

Hmm. Suspicious.

Finally, I was a bit disturbed to hear that 117 pupils walked out of a school in Basingstoke in protest at plans to extend their school day.

My original shock was at the idea of schoolchildren going on strike, but then I thought of their grievance over losing leisure time and softened a bit. Nobody wants to spend all day in a dusty classroom. Then – I really should form opinions after reading a whole article instead of each sentence – then I read that the 20-minute extension was actually going to be to their lunch break. Finally, I found out that under the new practice they would end the school day at 3.05pm, and that they’re currently going home at 2.45.

Any sympathy I had for these kids is now long gone. How bloody pathetic. 2.45? Do they not realise how lucky they are? That’s practically lunchtime. And the extra 20 minutes wouldn’t be to lesson time anyway. What an absolutely stupid, stupid protest. These kids have been watching too much TV, with news programmes showing stories of strikes here, there and everywhere. I blame the parents.