Fastrousers Fact #1

On the day that Fastrousers was born, the UK number 1 was Dawn (featuring Tony Orlando), with Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree. It is uncertain what the UK number 1 was when Fastrousers was conceived.

I couldn't give a puck about the hockey stick

I've resisted for several days, but with it was with a deep sigh that I realised I was going to have to write something about Hurricane Katrina. With politicians on both sides of the Atlantic on holiday there's sod all else in the news at the moment, and since most of my readers know my chosen career they probably expect it. I messed around for a bit with a few gags about Louisiana residents walking on sunshine, but to to be honest my heart wasn't in it.

Why my reluctance to jump on Katrina (if you'll pardon the pun)? Because I knew as soon as I saw the news that another dreary 'climate change' debate would be kicked off. As I believe I've already stated, my profession is plagued by the dismally stupid and uninformed opinions of the general public. Take the example of a Mr BUSHLOVERTWO, who confidently asserts that '...if global warming is causing the polar ice caps to melt, the water in the gulf would be cooler...not hotter...' I suggested he try heating a mixture of ice and water in a saucepan to see what happens, but his reply was not particularly erudite.

I've done my best to educate people, I really have. When I first started this gig, I had all sorts of high ideals about how people could be engaged by climatology - the Simon Schama of storms, the David Attenborough of atmospheric science. The fact is though, that in the climate change debate most people don't particularly want to informed. They're not interested in the state of current climate modeling, the atmosphere's inherently chaotic nature, or the limits or merits of the available data. Just as people prefer to moan about the quality of weather forecasts rather than hear about the technical issues regarding them, most people made their mind up about anthropogenic climate change ten years ago, and any research that gets picked up by the wire services is just blindly referenced or spuriously challenged by the underemployed of the world wide web.

To be honest, as a group climate scientists have done an awful lot to help the media destroy our own reputation. The endlessly tedious debate over Mann et al's 'hockey stick' climate reconstruction has become the icon of global warming, despite the fact that their findings were neither unique nor particularly informative. Similarly, an eminent climate analyst just down the corridor has had his name in the newspapers for stating publicly, without any evidence whatsoever, his theories on hurricanes and climate change as fact. He should have been massively censured by the scientific community, instead there was just a bit of growling and chest-beating amongst the silverbacks.

Global warming activist, or CO2 skeptic, they're all fucking up our research. As my mother says, don't meddle in things you don't (or refuse to) understand.

The Captain's Climate Charter
In order to show that I (grudgingly) accept that some of you have a brain, I'll cut my readers this deal. If anyone has any questions about climate change, then feel free to ask them via the Captain's mailbox. I won't answer them, because you don't need me to form your opinions for you, but I will post relevant links so that you can make up your own mind.

On some points, I have to agree with the conservatives

As everybody knows, American political opinions are highly polarised at the moment. Personally, I think the liberals have far more in common with the conservatives than anybody realises (both are for banning lots of things, both are a bunch of pathological reactionaries, and both would vote for an organ grinder's monkey if it was wearing the correct coloured rosette). Michael Moore, Fox News - sloppy journalism is sloppy journalism, whether it's on the right or left. If forced to adopt a side, however, I tend to go with the liberals, if only because they appear to feel no need for me to go to church.

Imagine my surprise then, when I found myself in the unenviable position of agreeing with a large body of neo-conservative views, whilst looking through Thankyoutony.com (the site where good, honest, God-fearing folk get to thank the British Prime Minister for his sterling support in Iraq). For example, one Florida resident asks:

Not bad for a Labour PM!

How you ever wound up in that party I'll never know

Gordon Brown is no doubt asking himself the same question. A grateful Missourian states that

'Although we like George Bush immensely, we always breathe a sigh of relief when you take the microphone!'

So does most of the English-speaking world. My particular favourite, however, remains

You should consider moving to Texas. Also, I absolutely love your Frosted Flakes cereal'

Although I am not a particular fan of frosted breakfast cereals (I'm more of an eggs-and-bacon man myself), I do wish that Tony Blair would move to Texas.

Making love in canoe

Colorado has much to recommend it for a man like me. Friendly locals (if you can avoid the bloody middle-class hippies), nice countryside, and more importantly a fair few breweries. Some of these produce quite drinkable beer, not just the fizzy wee that many British people (not to say Los Angeles bar managers) think is the national drink of America.

Last week, I urinated into Clear Creek. I don't usually spend my free time wantonly polluting water courses with my bodily effluvia, but Clear Creek is special. It feeds into the Coors brewery in Golden, and I was curious to see the effect on product quality. If you're in the Denver area, keep an eye out for Coors Light batch #000378119455, and let me know what you think.

If death and taxes are certain in life, then so is idiocy

The world of atmospheric science is agog with excitement today. Nothing so trivial as a major breakthrough in GCM cloud schemes, or an observed reduction in the ozone hole, but the annual Up-the-Hill relay race. Today, literally several scientists in fancy dress will be battling it out up a hill in Colorado for the honour of their research division. Our division's theme is Spain, and so in a reenactment of the Pamplona festival a rather eminent climate analyst, wearing a bull costume, will chase some white-clad, red-sashed fluid dynamicists up an incline.

Normally, I tend to avoid these work-based jollies in the same way that I tend to avoid rabid dogs, since I am neither amused nor entertained by the spectacle of twenty boundary-layer chemists waddling along a road dressed as penguins. However, I am attending this year for the sole reason that the American taxpayer is paying for it.

I shall think of all those hardworking voters diligently filling out their IRS forms every April, I shall think of the thousands of dollars in National Science Foundation man-hours being used up so that a group of academics can publicly make fools of themselves, and I shall roar with laughter.

Tough on foreigners, tough on the causes of foreigners

Having had their application for asylum rejected by the Home Office, and their benefits cut, a family of Iranian immigrants now faces the prospect of having their children taken into care (ages six months and six years).

Excellent. I was concerned that the combination of summer heat and exothermic reactions on the Tube might have caused a slight defrosting of the Home Office's normal chilly callousness. Thankfully however, under Charles Clarke it's good to see that the UK has not gone soft.

Charles Clarke - a bit like Santa Claus (unless you're an asylum seeker)

If he wins, I'm going to sue

Jim Terbrush is planning a $10 million lawsuit against the National Park Service, after his 21 year old son, Peter, was killed in a rockfall whilst climbing in Yosemite. He blames seepage from a 'sanitation facility' for triggering the rockfall.

Of course, if Mr Terbrush hadn't taught his son how to climb, Peter wouldn't have been killed, there would be no lawsuit, and consequently there wouldn't be the threat of climbing restrictions in National Parks.

As sympathetic as I am for the tragic loss of his son, I still intend to take Mr. Terbrush to the cleaners. It's my right as a semi-legal inhabitant of the USA.

Scientific proof of Fastrouser's proficiency

According to a group of Dutch scientists, the best way to give a woman a mind-blowing orgasm is to make one's amorous attentions whilst she's strapped into a cold steel chamber wearing only her socks. (Alcohol can also help, but I don't think that's news to any post-pubescent male). Proof positive that in spite of accusations to the contrary, my own romantic technique is cutting edge stuff.

I also know where the G-spot is. It is in Buffalo, Wyoming.

The G-spot - if Dirty Gary can find it, then so can you

Spammers - may all Gods roast them slowly in acid

The bastard fuck bugger twat spammers have found me, and the cock piss motherless shit-eaters have invaded my comments board, so the Captain has had to take measures. My first reaction was go around to their houses and fill their loathsome mouths with cement, but this has proven logistically difficult. So I've resorted to just blocking them.

From now on, when you post a comment you will go through a word verification test. You don't have to register or any of that bollocks, and you can still post anonymously.

Except that is for comments from the grandmother-raping spammers - their messages will be sent immediately to the midden-stinking gates of the electronic hell that spawned them.

London bomb attacks explained

Finally, fundamental reasons the July 7th bomb attacks in London have been explained by none other than Thatcher's former henchman, Norman Tebbit. He has quite clearly identified the social divisions in the UK today as due to a lack of support for the England Cricket Team. If only they'd not been so generally piss poor over the last fifteen years, maybe young British muslims would be cheering for England instead of Pakistan, and these bombings need never have occurred.

It is now apparent that the 1990's England selectors should face charges of high treason, and Mike Gatting should be denounced as a witch and burnt at the stake.

Double-OAP-Seven

The least surprising news today in the entertainment world is that the aged Pierce Brosnan has been ditched as James Bond, and speculation is rife as to the next wearer of the flame-proof, nuclear powered Dinner Jacket*.

I don't like to seem over-confident, but I'm keeping my cellphone open today in anticipation of Cubby Broccoli's call. Let's face it, I have the accent, the underwear, the cruel sardonic lips, and after 7 months in LA I even have the movie experience.

The only downside to all this is that it's bound to ignite the endlessly tedious debate as to who was the best James Bond. The answer is, of course, Robert Kilroy-Silk.

Kilroy-Silk - 'Do I make you horny baby?'

Notes for my American audience
*Dinner Jacket = tuxedo

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Po-Dunk

There are occasions, rarely, when I wonder if I'm just a little bit negative, just a little bit harsh on the world. Usually though, I find someone who engages some sufficiently ludicrous activity to reassure me. Take the example of the Florida man who has spent the last two years sticking used ice-lolly sticks together to make a Viking longboat. Perhaps unsurprisingly, 45 year old Robert McDonald is quoted as saying 'I never want to look at glue again'.

It reminds of a man I met recently. The exact details are hazy, I'd been drinking for some time, but he was holidaying in a cabin 20 miles from the nearest town (if it could be called that) to tie flies. Not to fish with them, you understand, merely to tie them. Apparently, his home town of Casper, WY is too much of distraction from the intricate joys of the Colonel's Lady and the Stimulator. With it's population of 50,000, diverse ethnic community (91.3% white non-Hispanic) and 'vibrant entertainment district', one can well see why.

I know you think I make this stuff up, but honestly it's all out there.

Condoleezza Rice has abortion whilst carrying John G. Roberts' lovechild!

I would like to point out that the above is completely untrue. I've just found out that 'Shock and Awe' is now listed by Google and Yahoo, so I was just trying to drum up some trade. Sorry folks.

Resoled Heaven

In the rough, tough world of speed eating contests, Tokera Kobayashi currently has no peer. Only a day after eating eighty three steamed dumplings in eight minutes, he managed to stuff one hundred pork buns down his gullet in just twelve minutes. Did his mother not teach him any table manners? The charmless lout probably doesn't even know the correct direction in which to pass the port.

I'd like to see him try the same thing with Jerky. For those of you who have not enjoyed the experience, it is best described as flavoured shoe leather. I had Elk Jerky, considered by many to be the King of Dried Meats. My jaw bone was in cramps of ecstasy and exhaustion, as I manfully ingested the peppered delicacy.

One stick pony

Despite the increasing urbanisation of our existence, there remain certain times in a man's life when he needs to be alone with his thoughts, free to ponder unfettered the mysteries of life. One such time is whilst taking a crap. Unfortunately, my friend has not yet managed to convince his dog of this truth.

I consider myself a reasonably experienced backwoodsman, but throwing a stick whilst leaning against a tree with my trousers around my ankles is not a skill covered in any of the handbooks. My friend received just recompense, however. Anyone who has ever looked after a dog knows how much they enjoy rolling in excrement.

Spare a thought for the Captain

Fastrousers will be off the air for a few days. In the best traditions of Lewis and Clarke, I'm going to Wyoming to get 'Po-Dunked', and apparently I may even experience 'Jerky' (but I said a firm no to the Rocky Mountain Oysters). Since I have only the vaguest notion of what these words mean, it would be fair to say that I have some concerns about this particular expedition.

Assuming I don't end up as bear shit or the victim of a shoot-out, I should be back next week with more pithy observations.

I couldn't give a $$$$ about the US economy

Bollocks to Greenspan. Just as the Dollar was strengthening enough to make dealings with the warm bosom of my Motherland viable, the Federal Reserve goes and puts up interest rates. By next Thursday the Dollar will be back to its usual paltry exchange rate. Oh, sure, there are those who harp on about the need for inflationary control and a stable economy, the same people who ring their hands about the balance of payments, but I am not one of them. After all, if the economy here goes tits-up in a few years time I can always hop on a plane back to England, and leave America to its misery.

All I care about is getting a decent bang for my buck. I should never have invested so much faith in my Dong.

Parenthood is morally wrong

One of the administrators in the department has just dropped her first sprog, so the Captain's mailbox was bombarded this morning with photos of adoring parents holding an ugly, small, bald dribbling creature. I'm not singling out this baby as being uglier than any other but let's face it, Winston Churchill was never noted for being a sex symbol. If shortness, baldness and dribbling were really considered attractive then I wouldn't be wasting my time posting this chaff on the internet, I'd be too busy beating women off with a shitty stick.

Why is it that parents generally, and particularly first timers, labour under the misapprehension that I'm interested in the exploits of their crushingly mediocre offspring? I don't care about Tarquin's first fart, or Rebecca's first 'adorable' attempt at wiping her own backside. Call me in sixteen years time when they become potential clientele (or even staff) for my lucrative 'supply' operation.

It's even worse over here, a few months ago I was 'invited' to something called a Baby Shower. Having already got us to cough up for a stag do, wedding present etc, this is an effective way for a couple to screw even more cash out of people. At a Baby Shower, one's presence is demanded at a 'party' (in actual fact a glass of Liebfraumilch and a piece of equally nasty fruitcake) in exchange for some expensive plastic item from Mothercare, which in 6 months time will stink of milksome vomit anyway.

If people find it absolutely imperative to breed, then I suppose they should be allowed to, but it's about time the contribution of those of us who have chosen not to add to the planet's burgeoning population of six billion was recognised.

You deserve everything you get

Over on a popular British climbing website, somebody (let's just call him 'Frank') has asked

I've got a bog standard silva compass and was wondering if i'll need to buy a localised version when i go over to the jura next week (to allow for any variations is magnetic north.

Yes Frank, of course you will need a different compass. In Switzerland, all the Nazi gold in Genevan bank vaults disrupts the magnetic field, and so north is a different direction. I'm generally a libertarian, but some people shouldn't be allowed to leave home without supervision, never mind go cavorting around the Alps like Julie Andrews in a fleece.

People posting uninformed crap on the internet is nothing unusual, but I get depressed when people can't even grasp the basics of my field. If this is the typical level of geophysical understanding in Britain, it's hardly surprising that so much of my day gets spent trying to correct people who have swallowed the latest crackpot Climate Change theory on the BBC website. No wonder Junior Bush got away with denying the existence of global warming for so long. Frankly, if it wasn't for all the taxpayers money I get for doing climate research, I'd be inclined to let you all burn up, freeze to death and then drown.

The high life

Scientists analysing the Po river in Northern Italy have found traces of 1,500 kg of cocaine, in an area of just 5 million people. No wonder they carry the Pope around on a chair. Even to someone who lives in LA, that's an impressive amount of blooter. Probably enough to keep the House of Commons fueled for a couple of late night voting sessions, and I would think that even Abramovich's lads would consider that a pretty memorable weekend*.

Admittedly I'm no expert, but I don't reckon that an average adult rectum can take more than a kilo or two of toot, which implies an awful lot of uncomfortable Colombians waddling into Milan airport. That surely raises questions concerning the efficacy of the (famously incorruptible) Italian law enforcement agencies. My guess is that if the Carabineri were to stop preening their plumes for long enough, they could find a few Turin proctologists driving around in Ferraris.

I'd be interested to see the same chemical technique applied to the Los Angeles Bay. There's some pretty lively fish off Santa Monica pier, and there's got to be a reason why LA County Lifeguards are so uptight.

Notes for my American audience
*As well as being staggeringly wealthy, Russian 'businessman' Roman Abramovich is the owner of Chelsea Football Club (now commonly known as Chelski). There's no particular reason to suggest that Chelsea players chase the dragon more than anyone else in the Premiership, but I know that it'll wind up my brother-in-law

Stool

In India, the government is pushing for a law that allows people to run for public office only if they are in possession of that glory of Victorian engineering - a flush toilet. It seems that being seen crapping in the street along with the other proles is both demeaning to the elected office, and an environmental problem. I wholeheartedly approve, parking fudge and politics simply don't mix. Lady Thatcher would never have got where she is now if she'd been seen squatting in the street behind a Vauxhall Nova, like some Cleethorpes harlot on the way home from the pub. (Although I wouldn't put it past Claire Short, in all honesty).

In my constituency, Wokingham, most of the people have lavatories, so curling one down in public has never really been an issue. Consequently our MP, front bench has-been John Redwood, has found lots of other ways of dumping on the electorate.

Talking of Wokingham, I recently hit the motherlode when I found the homepage of Robert Kilroy-Silk, the Alan Partridge of British politics. Did you know that at a meeting of Wokingham Conservative Party he accused Redwood of being 'soft on Europe'? That's a bit like accusing Chairman Mao of not doing enough to curb obesity.

French phlegm

One of the more treasured beliefs of the English psyche is the tacit understanding that French people are cowards (but not as bad as the Italians). To be honest, it's a little disingenuous to still hold this view 60 years after VE day, just because they collaborated with the Nazis a bit. After all, it wasn't their fault the Germans walked into France through Ardennes, instead of gamefully hurling themselves at the machine guns and artillery batteries of the Maginot Line. You only have to watch the German football team to realise that this is a nation that prizes ruthless efficiency over sport.

Anyway, recent events in Toronto disprove that belief, in my opinion. As a meteorologist, I can tell you that anyone who tries to land a commercial airliner in a downdraft can hardly be called a coward. Criminally stupid, perhaps, but not a coward. Even braver is the passenger who stays on the plane despite knowing there's a Frenchman behind the wheel.

Have you ever seen the Champs Elysee at rush hour? I have, and it opened my sphincter more effectively than a vindaloo from Ghandi's.

One for the Womyn

Ladies, it's not too late to get your tickets for Michigan Womyn's Festival. This year is the 30th anniversary, and events include Ancient Amazon Survival Skills and The Only Bush I Trust is My Own (presumably some kind of gardening class).

There's an internet discussion forum so you can join in the fun if, like me, you can't attend. After that 'incident' in 2003 involving a Breast Casting workshop, a polaroid camera and half a bottle of scotch, the organisers have told me I won't be welcome. Bloody tuppence-lickers.

Highly Charged

As any lad from Somerset will tell you, if you piss on a cattle fence your dick gets fried.

By blatantly defying the International Atomic Energy Agency, Iran is pissing all over the cattle fence of the Bush government. Highly charged by the potential differences of disillusionment over Iraq and the omniscient spectre of divisive social issues, the current administration would like nothing more than an internationally acceptable reason to start another war. It's good for taking the voters' minds off things like the economy and stem-cell research.

Unfortunately for us, Iran is holding a large bucket of manure, and when it spastically convulses from being electrocuted no doubt we'll all get covered in shit. For the time being, I've decided to forego any long-term investment opportunities.

Jesus Christ, Jedi Knight

This year's summit of the Association of South-East Asian Nations (Asean), the event which in previous years brought such theatrical delights as Colin Powell camping it up as the Village People, has produced yet another corker. Despite stiff competition from Japan, this year's show-stopper came from Sergei Lavrov, the Russian foreign minister. Dressed as a Jedi Knight (complete with light-sabre), Mr Lavrov delivered a diatribe against Asean sung to the tune of Jesus Christ Superstar.

Personally, I don't see what's so great about being a Jedi Knight. After all, the greatest ever Jedi is a bald, green midget, who swans around the place telling people 'much you have still to learn'. Yoda might be able to master the 'The Force', but until he can master some basic grammar then frankly I shall remain unimpressed.

The pride of the Russian nation - a tit in a cloak

The lurking menace of paper

I've just received an email at work, the following passage is merely an extract:

The inspection will look for things like excess paper on desks, floors,
shelves, etc. The rule seems to be, if it's clearly out temporarily as
part of a report or project, it's okay, but loose piles laying all over,
especially if they look like they're out long-term, will be written up.
There shouldn't be any paper on the floor, and what's out on desks and
shelves should be in neat piles, which are less susceptible to
ignition. The best places for papers are in cabinets drawers and boxes
(tips on boxes later this week), but this is also a great time to
dispose of unnecessary papers by recycling them.

Bearing in mind this is a non-smoking building, I'm curious as to what they think I would be doing in my office that would render un-piled paper a major ignition hazard. If I leave a bog-roll on my desk, does that constitute a temporary project or a long-term issue, and would my 'piles' be subject to further inspection?

Joking aside, this is a major pain in the arse. No self-respecting scientist would have a desk free of cryptic paper printouts, the funding agencies expect it. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is a further attempt by the government to hold back the progress on climate research. So far, Bush has already moved a load of our NASA cash so that everyone can go to Mars in ten years, and we've even started getting letters from Republican Senators questioning any of our findings they don't like the sound of.

The safety inspection is next week, and we've been promised a similar email every day until then. I cannot wait until tomorrow's installment of preposterous safety tips.

Extreme Noise Terror

On the bus this morning, that all too familiar tinny beat of another person's earphones reminded me of why I hold UCLA undergraduates in such deep contempt. In one of his books, Douglas Adams describes a race of people afflicted with telepathy, and in order to prevent their deepest secrets from becoming known they go through life generating sufficient noise to suppress any thought whatsoever. Welcome to UCLA.

These supposedly intelligent people cannot bear to strut around campus without some kind of electronic noise generator stuck in their ear. If they're not bellowing inane platitudes into a mobile phone, they're listening to inane music on an iPod. I have no idea what deep thoughts these people are trying to suppress from their heads, but judging by their vacant expressions I would be surprised if it was worth the effort.