What Is The Deal?

A good weekend, all things considered.

Saints are safe. I didn't expect that. Although I'm an optimist in most areas of life, I'm a pessimist when it comes to the beautiful game. In the same way, I'm incredibly superstitious when it comes to football, whereas I hate superstition anywhere else.

I spent the whole game listening to Jeff Stelling, whilst playing Mario Tennis on the Gameboy, believing it would be bad luck to stop.

Clearly I was right.

I feel very sorry for Leicester, but I'm hugely relieved.

It's funny seeing scenes of such emotion on television: tears, people with their head in their hands, exultant celebration. And it's just a game.

I hate it when people dismiss football like that. Chances are, those same sceptics have been moved at some point by a book or a film or a work of art. Even though those 'aren't real'. Sport is just like art. It is a conjunction of concepts and ideas and actions that humans have invented, as a way of escaping the base nature of existence. Sport and art are celebrations and ostentatious experiments. It's stupid to dismiss one and revere another.

***

On a high from the result, we went to go and see stand-up comedian Daniel Kitson at the Oxford Playhouse.

We walked into Oxford, as it was a really nice evening. It seemed like summer had arrived (although I'm not counting my weather-chickens, believe me). We walked through the affluent North Oxford suburbs, including a house bearing a blue plaque stating that JRR Tolkien had lived there.

It feels like it hasn't been summer for ages. And it hasn't. I don't think 2007 had anything resembling a summer. I hope, if we get one this year, I'm not too tired or distracted by work to appreciate it.

The gig was really good. It was a bit of an antidote to the Johnny Vegas nonsense. It was just a person on stage saying funny and interesting things. If you get the chance, I advise seeing Mr Kitson live.

***

I've been having a few banal thoughts lately; the kind a bad observational comic would have.

One is: I wonder if people always roll their eyes in the same direction. I do. I roll left to right. It feels strange to do it the other way.

Another one is: why do they have signs in the toilets reminding you to wash your hands? I know it's important to promote good hygiene. And I'm sure there are people that don't wash their hands. But surely it's not out of forgetfulness.

"There we go. That was certainly a much needed shit. Now, to head back to the office! ... Wait. What's this? 'Please wash your hands after using the toilet'. Of course! You bonehead, Paul. It completely slipped my mind!"

People are aware of the convention of hand-washing. They've just chosen not to do it. A reminder is not required.

It's like the health-warnings on cigarettes. I don't really understand them. Surely by now people are aware of the health risks. They're smoking because they're addicted (or stupid). I don't think a chemical dependency, perhaps one honed for years, is going to be swayed by a snappy warning caption.

The trouble is, people divorce themselves from the bigger picture. They know smoking causes cancer, but can't quite visualise what it would be like to have cancer (even with a photo of a diseased lung to help).

I think they should set up something a bit easier to contextualise. Every smoker should have a chip implanted in their hand that keeps a record of their life expectancy. Every time they buy a pack of cigarettes, the chip gets scanned at the same time as the barcode, and it calculates the reduction on their life expectancy. (The number could be displayed in an electronic display, perhaps surgically implanted in the smoker's forehead).

Then, every time they bought some death sticks, they could see their life tick away.

"Hmm. This pack reduces my life by four days. Maybe I should give it a miss."

Then they'd almost put the pack back, but then decide to go ahead with the purchase.

"It's only four days. What can you do in four days? That's not even a full week of Countdown".

Then they cough up a tarball and leave, wheezing.