Does Anyone Care About Climate Change?

The baffling array of unintelligible buzzwords that escape the lips of PR character Stewart Pearson in The Thick of It draw one of two reactions: pure anger or blank apathy - not dissimilar to the general reactions elicited upon hearing the banal chestnuts: green, sustainable and climate change.

Eyes glaze over; suddenly climate change represents a whole raft of green ideas too frightening to contemplate. A slideshow of images swirl ferociously around your consciousness featuring eco friendly men with dreads snuggled sweatily against naked hippies in unsanitary tree-houses.

Renewable makes you think of those kooky little tyre-fronted notebooks fashioned from a sad Peugeot’s past life, or putting tea bags on the washing line “for another day.”

Then the worst one: climate change, all that guilt-tripping and finger pointing. I wont fork out on an electric car when there are middle class mummies dropping off their little ‘uns in gas guzzling 4x4s with heated leather seats.

The world we live in is threatening enough with the perils of poverty, nuclear power and terrorist attacks, without worrying about the weather as well. We are British, how would we make benign small talk if the weather became one in a long line of issues that gave us the willies?

The World Bank predicts that if emissions of Greenhouse Gases continue as they are the world’s temperature will raise by 4°C. 4°C increase is all very well when you’re sunning yourself in Tenerife, and it would be appreciated while scraping stubborn frost from your windscreen. But 4°C irreversibly for the whole world is all devastating heat waves, food production risks and rising sea-levels rather than a dreamy 4°C when you can’t get out of bed. The results will be catastrophic on a scale we have never seen before.

The problem though, is that climate change is a buzzword for the layman. It doesn’t incite the widespread panic that “war” or “terrorism” does, we don’t have the emotional reaction elicited from “famine” or “poverty.” Obama may have addressed Climate change in his second inaugural address with typically emotive language, arguing that ignoring climate change “would betray our children,” but all too often the human has to see it to believe it. 

While writing in his Telegraph column, Boris Johnson observed anecdotally that January snow made it awfully difficult to imagine that the world is gradually heating up. Many will focus on the narrowed eyes and concerned impression of an impassioned Al Gore on the television while thinking about how he’s aged since that near miss with Bush amongst the confusing myriad of “greenhouse gases” and “scientific evidence” jargon.

Perhaps new terminology is needed; something along the lines of: The-World-is-Heating-Up-Too-Quickly-Due-To-Us-Humans-Unless-We-All-Do-Something-This-Planet-Will-Go-On-But-Everyone-On-It-Will-Die. It needs a bit of work.

Is Man-Made Scampi Weird and Unethical?!

Being a vegetarian is a big part of my life, we all eat three times a day, therefore I make the choice three times a day not to eat meat or fish. At the same time, it isn’t really a defining feature of who I am. I would find it a bit weird if someone introduced themselves as a meat-eater or coeliac or a non-lover of root vegetables.

I take no issue with anyone else eating it, and have tried to avoid that discussion many a time - I am a happy vegetable and an open minded one at that. So when I was wondering around the aisles of my local supermarket, I don't know why I found fish-free scampi any weirder than a veggie “quarter-pounder,” “hot-dog,” or Sunday “roast.”

I had a veggie friend once who told me that she thought that fake meat and fish was unethical, that it perpetuated the myth that we “need” meat or that a meal is incomplete without it. I guess the weird thing is that the shape of it is fashioned to look like the animal it came from. I haven't yet seen Quorn painstakingly moulded into a life-size Sunday roast chicken, but as the industry develops, who can say what will happen? I see tofu sheep in fields and kill your own Quorn cow in Totnes.

Is it unethical really? It’s a good start if you fancy the old “Meat Free Monday” but don’t know where to begin, or if you like meat, but have cholesterol/weight issues, if you’re a vegetarian that craved meat, it could prevent you from actually going back to meat completely, I could go on...

...and we have fake fur and fake leather. Humans are naturally highly resourceful and that it is rather clever to develop in this way - it reduces our reliance on the original animal-based product.

So I had this internal dialogue going on in my head as I stood in the supermarket and my boyfriend (also veggie) eyed the box suspiciously, as if one might actually come to life and wiggle right out. It was such an alien concept I had to try it. At £2.70 it ain’t cheap, but curiosity got the better of me.

It smelt kind of fishy, which wasn't off putting until I wondered how on earth they made it smell like that. It can’t be an altogether natural process surely? But then tons of things I eat and drink are unnatural. I didn't realise until this week that Diet Coke contains phosphoric acid that breaks down bone density after only four cans in a week. (Bone density stops growing at 25, I must stop drinking it soon...) I digress...

From what I can remember about fish, it did taste pretty close; not like when my Grandpa tried a Quorn sausage and made a face like a small child eating a brussel sprout or when you put a drop of fizzy pop in your dogs bowl (not that I've ever done that...). I don’t see the problem with filling your boots with fake scampi if it saves another Nephrops Norvegicus lobster (real name, no word of a lie), and gives it a little longer frolicking in the ocean.

My Favourite Releases of 2012!

Well as we come to the very end of this eventful year I would like to reflect on some of the amazing musical releases of 2012. I do hope you enjoy the selection, and feel free to add your own favourites in the comment section!

10. Haim

Be transported into a John Cusack film with this altogether 80's girl band. No album release just yet, but watch this space for the West Coast sisters in 2013. Think Wilson Phillips for the noughties, happy clappy fun songs that take you back to a simpler age...

9.  Of Monsters and Men

Iceland may not quite be Scandinavia in the music stakes but it isn't far behind. Cutesy cool folksters Of Monsters and Men rocked the festivals and the charts this year, most notably with the catchy Little Talks. Nanna's husky voice and quirky ensemble of talented young musicians make them quite a mesmerising act.

8. Jack White

Eschewing norms has never been out of the realms of possibilities for eccentric rocker Jack White and 2012 was no different. Employing two concurrent single sex session bands for his tours may have made his entourage rather large, but it seems Mr. White does not do things by halves. The Blunderbuss album was a corker, except for a long time I thought that the bird on the front cover was a giant hat... He doesn't fail to put on a good show: the absence of Meg White on stage did not hinder his presence one iota. 

7. Little Comets

I can't get enough of Little Comets Life is Elsewhere at the moment. African guitar riffs and the hint of a geordie accent come together and guarantee to make you smile. My favourite for trekking up the M5 alone and pretending I'm an indie rocker.

6.  Dry the River

The album cover for Shallow Bed may look like a local teenage rock band's latest release, but stick with it! I first saw these hairy nu-folksters singing their unique blend of ancient mythological lyrics at Roskilde in Denmark and their album was the first I bought on return to the UK. All their flashy lights and the mixture of acoustic and smashy guitars made me like a child at Christmas. Mumford and Sons with balls.

5. Bat for Lashes

She may have been Mercury shortlisted for her two previous efforts, but in my personal opinion The Haunted Man is a work of art, from the front cover onwards! Never one to shy away from controversy, no doubt her album cover sent many blushes on teenage boys faces across the country. Laura might make you cry. Just a warning.

4. Poliça (pronounced POL-EE-THA)

Ever since Michael Buble released that Christmas album where his voice sounded all tinny and tampered with, I have hated autotune. That weird electronic sound is so far from what I personally appreciate in vocals which is truth really (without sounding all wanky and pretentious).  So how surprised I was then to enjoy Poliça's most recent releaseGive you the Ghost. Lead singer Channy Leaneagh uses auto tune not only self conciously but as a live tool. It's not everyones cup of tea, but I like it.

3. Everything Everything

Not an instant hit with me, but wow how they have grown in my estimations. I can't get over Cough Cough. I often re-write the lyrics along the lines of "havin' a laugh, out with the lads, having a fag, being all mad." That type of thing. If you listen to it you'll know where I mean. It's a hoot. That weird chord change on "cop car" is just genius.

2. Django Django

Team barber shop vocals with electronica and live guitars. Meet Django Django. Exciting, happy, clever music and an awesome album. Seriously not one to miss.

1. Alt-J

Winners of the Mercury Music Prize this year, it just had to be Alt-J at my number one spot. I first saw them supporting Wild Beasts earlier this year and was blown away. Often support acts are a disappointment  not least of all because they have the disadvantage of not being known musically and lyrically. Alt-J though were absolutely captivating from Joe Newman's squeaky vocals to the lyrics "triangles are my favourite shape." A triangle symbol as a title may be a premature Prince-like move, but somehow, they rock it.

There were so many others I loved this year. Special mentions to Jessie Ware, her toned down vocals sound great out of SBTRKT's edgy electronics, but I still think Wildest Moments could have been bigger.

The Gossip's A Joyful Noise shows Beth Ditto to be equally proficient in singing impeccably and writing heart-felt lyrics. The move to Xenomania surprised me somewhat, but I think the album shows that it was the right move.

Alex Clare: from being dropped to being put on an Internet Explorer advert hasn't done all too badly. Hummingbird is one of my faves from the album.

Metric's Synthetica is well worth a listen. Emily Haines has done it again in capturing a somewhat distant lyrical emotion in Girl Power beats that hark back to old-school Metric style. If you liked The List era, you will like this!

So many albums, so little time. But here are just a handful of gems from 2012. If you'd like to add your own contributions please do!
The Shins' Port of Morrow. Simple Song is another one that I cry at. I do cry at most things though, bear this in mind.

Happy New Year! Here's to a musically rich 2013.

Keira Knightley in Love, Actually. What Actually Happened to Clothes at the Turn of the Millennium?

This time every year, me and a whole load of other Christmas embracing losers across the world sit down to watch Love, Actually. Every year I laugh at Bill Nighy, cry at Emma Thompson and hold on to a (perhaps outdated) notion of Britishness.

This year though, something not terribly important occurred to me. Keira Knightley, lovely as she may be, sports (amongst a variety of crop tops and flared jeans) a baker boy hat. For those who aren't familiar with this type of hideous headwear: think Victorian chimney sweep boy.

Don't look so happy Keira, you have something very peculiar on your head

This year I didn't feel content and cosy, I felt distinctly unsettled. Visions of myself aged 11 came flooding back to me in a whirlwind of horror. I look almost identical (bar the whole puberty thing, and braces THANK GIDDY GOODNESS), except I'm wearing a baker boy hat. Not any baker boy hat, it was constructed out of small squares of varying vile shades of denim bought from etam or Tammy Girl or whatever that shop was - I'm sure most girls of my age remember. It was the one with  faux purple leather jackets, silver gilets and slogan t shirts that said things like "I <3 ME!" (all of which I owned).

If anything, I should've been relieved that even Ms. Knightley herself couldn't pull off the look, this was after all a widespread pandemic of fashion faux pas. But when I was at work today, this magazine from 2001 reminded me of the whole sorry saga. Nestled in between an Amstrad advert for a home phone that could send e-mails and an article about how to choose the right hi-fi system was a fashion spread replete with tiny little handbags and bellybutton rings.

"edgily sexy" and "stylishly funky" 

So what exactly went wrong between the late 90's and early noughties? Something odd happened that's what. I wouldn't consider myself particularly into fashion and yet there's something about this era which makes me feel a little bit pukey. As a young-un in that awkward in between stage (the stage before the awkward teenage stage - poor kids) I feel I should be allowed to absent myself as I was, after all, merely a child. And yet... I can remember begging my mum for a top like this:

I'm from a pretty liberal family, but this was not going to happen. You can't tell from the picture, but behind the darling butterfly on the front, a series of strings pass along the back, I can only be thankful that it never had the opportunity to criss-cross against my pre-pubescent flab, there would be more than a few things wrong with that...

... also I know I would've teamed it with hot pink baggy combat trousers, the horrific ones fitted with useless dangly tassels - why was that ever a thing?

Alas, apparently fashion will always come around eventually.

I can see myself now, middle aged, bleached bootcuts and a sparkly crop top. Please, no.

Hashtagging Hopelessness: Twitter's Turkeys

I have a Twitter account, as does my Dad, Stephen Fry and the rest of the world and his dog. I understood the concept, and I wanted to love it - I still do, desperately, but do I really have anything to say that the world and his dog gives a half a hoot about?

I write something on Facebook and it's brilliant. My Mum's there, ready to endorse me, my aunties and cousins and my best friends. My dull statuses will stick around on their News Feeds like bad smells until they really have no option other than to like it.

Twitter is different. 140 words is small and I'm quite the talker. 140 words would reduce me to one of two things:

1. Tlking lik dis, bt I rely fink Im 2 old 4 dat lol.
2. Unimportant factoids from the vat of unimportant things that happen in my day.. "Just put a pizza in the oven - blimey I'm famished! #hungry" or "I do like bubble baths #warm #bubbly #bath" or "Just burnt my elbows on the pitta bread #onlyme #lol #hungry"

Perhaps the latter would only apply to me (how else do you squish the hot air out?) Anyway, the point is, I have this momentous occasion with Twitter and I click send. I watch the screen, too eager. Check my e-mails... Come back to the screen.. 3 tweets, oh wow!

Got the wrong end of the stick. 3 tweets from 3 other people.. awkward. I'm still learning. My 82 year old Grandad is quicker with his iPad.

Where Facebook would have my Dad putting LOL (always in capitals, why?) Twittersphere would not be an arid desert, salivating at the juicy minutiae of my existence. No, it's New York; a metropolis of importance, a hustly bustly exciting array of activity where nobody really cares what 140 characters you have up your sleeve. Unless of course you're Ellen Degeneres or Barack Obama.

I'm no quitter though, noooo.. just waiting for my Mum to get an account.

Writers Block!

It may seem like there was a period of writers block but I have been working a contract with Glipho!! Feel free to check it out :)

Best Friend Marketing

Originally published as part of 'What Grinds Georgia's Gears' January 2012 Exepose

I vividly remember a few years ago buying an innocent smoothie and smiling at the twee messages on the side, sweet endearments that try to convince you that this Coca-Cola owned brand is as friendly as it is healthy. Fair enough, I thought, they did start as a small business founded by three kooky Cambridge grads, quite clever marketing really. Wrong.

Now, when it isn’t soups, smoothies or organic mousse, its department stores with sickeningly cute children, or banks that insist they aren’t robots through the medium of song attempting to get on your good side. Note: Good side in this instance refers to that squishy corner of your brain, the one usually reserved for Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens etc.  I used to consider those double glazing adverts, or my local politician sending me a letter on my 18^th birthday the most infuriating of them all. Surely nothing could be more annoying than a balding man shouting ‘BOGOF’ as you drink a cuppa waiting for the next half of Downton Abbey, and that was just the politician.

Yet these, along with those horrifically exploitative 20790% APR loan shark adverts or affectionate ‘no win no fee’ announcements don’t come close to the puny pre-pubescent whining of the child on the Thomson commercial who insists that there just isn’t enough time in the day to see his parents. They simply must book a holiday to have the lasting nuclear family he’s always dreamed of.

I can imagine those marketing execs sitting around a large table with those boring blue chairs, brainstorming the best way to catch us unawares and snap our feeble heartstrings. But, giant corporate marketing person, maybe, just maybe I would like a smoothie that just has the ingredients on the label, adverts where no-one sings, Yummy Mummies who don’t play Bingo online together and a world where Google Chrome isn’t the only tool for family interaction. What was wrong with Dad making little Sophie a real scrap book? What if she accidentally deletes those online memories or her external hard-drive falls ill with a techno virus, what happens then? Children don’t really jazz up their parents spreadsheets out of love regardless of what Windows 7 insists, and as much as The Saturdays are extremely talented artists, watching them stroke an animated puppy isn’t going to make me go out and buy a Nintendo DS.

I would argue that those adverts are even worse than pop-up’s that exclaim ‘Are you SURE you want to leave this page? You have been chosen as a $1,000,000 prize winner!’ Or spam e-mails that encourage you to click on them only to bombard everyone you’ve ever met with discounted soft porn. At least they don’t pretend to be your best mate. They knowingly lie and laugh at you, much less scheming, more admirable really.

Maybe this is all technology driven. Perhaps if I switched the television and radio off, popped my laptop under the bed and played dominoes with chums we would all be safer. Those suited conmen and women... con-people would be out of a job as we regain our bank balances and claw back our detached and fragile dignity. That is until the doorbell rings and the Royal Mail delivers an affectionate letter from that nice clothing shop offering you a cheeky discount if you rack up lots of juicy debt on their credit card.

We must count our blessings though. In America they have twenty minute infomercials where Katy Perry talks through the ultimate cure for acne, and pharmaceutical companies sell wonder drugs that warn of side-effects such as Liver Failure and Death in a laid-back ‘just gone surfing’ Southern California drawl. Back in the UK with the nauseating voice of the Marks and Spencer’s pudding ad, beautifully slim models scoffing chocolate and ‘celebrities’ flashing their wobbly bits in fitness video’s, it’s enough to make you feel slightly nauseous, and that’s before noting the irony. Maybe I’m just getting old, but if Boots play ‘Here come the girls’ one more time as a group of (you guessed it) girls go shopping, I may scream.