No matter how romantic I think Colin Firth is as Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, there is a lot wrong with Mr. Darcy stationery (mainly the level of twee).
So lemme get this straight. I can’t be trusted because I’m a foreigner and so I need to be tracked (and I’ll be paying the Home Office for the privilege, they will be pleased to know I do fuck all because I’m so tired from work). I pay all sorts of taxes and National Insurance, and am not allowed, under any circumstances, to claim any public funds. Why am I bothering working to pay for British nationals who live off the dole and tax-free, cash in hand jobs, or take long-term sick leave and full pay? I should just give up my private sector job and join the civil service (job for life, final salary pension).
My friend Graeme, who’s an economist, says we should all be extremely worried about what’s happening. You bet we are. I really don’t understand why governments are throwing good money away, trying to force the consumer to go back to spending the way we did before. The fact that we are going through this madness right now is incontrovertible proof that massive, thoughtless consumer spending doesn’t work.
So now our tax money is going to dole bludgers, benefits cheats, and bankers. That’s just fucking great.
How cool is this? The letters of the alphabet created by negative space between buildings. Via ReadyMade.
When I have to fill out forms and make my way through red tape, I almost inevitably get completely entangled and am much like the fly to the spider, i.e. I get stuck and the worrying just about kills me. So to give up my passport to the UK Border Agency a couple of months ago was a very worrying time — I was applying for permanent residency, or in the lingo, Indefinite Leave To Remain.
I hate being without my passport! Getting paperwork to prove your relationship is difficult if:
- You live together but do not own or rent your residence
- You live together but do not have either or both your names on the bills
Given the bureaucratic nightmare (exaggerating somewhat given there’s never been a horror flick about paperwork) we went through moving from China to Singapore (everything in Mandarin Chinese and little to no official paperwork because we left an extremely light adminsitrative footprint there), I was super stressed about it all. Delboy gave some advice on documents to submit that hadn’t even occurred to me and I’m sure that helped. Plus that whole getting married thing and rather amusing home video of the ceremony that my uncle shot must have added a few points in our favour, showing the UK immigration authorities that we know each other, like each other, and probably shag on a regular basis:
w00t w00t!
This is what my sister thinks I’m like, apparently! She sent this to me from some avatar-creation service:
No, I do not tell people to get fucked on an hourly basis! I’m sweet and innocent and guileless and made of chocolate. White chocolate. I am as adorable and pure as these guys:
Update: Terry suggests this might be more appropriate:
My image is really taking a beating.
But I’ll have you know I use both, er, physical expressions.
By cheating!
Take Aberdeen Angus sausages and cut them into four. Cube some potatoes, and chop up some peppers and chilli. Put the potatoes in a pot of boiling water and start frying up the vegetables, and set them aside when they start to soften. Start frying the sausages, which will automagically swell and resemble meatballs (w00t!). Throw in the cooked peppers and chilli, then the drained potatoes. Squirt in some tomato puree. Add salt and pepper to taste. Keep stir-frying until the sausage-meatballs are cooked through.
And no, I didn’t do it. Neil did — he’s pretty protective over his cooking, he gets damn cranky when I try to help. All shout-y and everything.
No National Men Make Dinner Day™ for him!
This weekend we shall be eating smelly cheese with my cousin.
And I’d like to unclutter my wardrobe (as should Neil, who has been promising he’ll do it “this weekend”, every weekend).
And there is also that scarf that is being crocheted far, far too slowly — it needs to be finished and embellished, and then sent off.
(Oh, and W starts its UK run today.)
It’s called queso de Cabrales, and it’s the strongest cheese I have ever tasted. It makes your mouth hurt.
So of course Neil bought half a wheel of Cabrales for my cousin.
Unfortunately, I’m old and couldn’t stay up to watch the results come in like my masochist colleague Dan and make it to work the next day, but I did pretty much leap outta bed at 6am to turn on the television.
*blink blink* Does the teevee say 338 to Barack Obama?! Holy FUCK!!!!! I wanted it to happen, I didn’t think it would happen, and I am so glad I was wrong about that.
I’m sure Americans overseas will be gratified at the predicted decrease in conversations starting with, “You know what it is I don’t like / hate about America?”
I do really hope that he gets a good spread of experts on his cabinet, reflecting a United States of America.
I’m also sure Singaporeans will be pleased to read about our PAP government sending their congratulations to Barack Obama, because the Singapore endorsement is really what he was waiting for.
All joking aside, I had plenty of time on the bus to crochet and ruminate about what this means, because Neil was asking why the hell I was so happy, since I’m not American.
(Neil must hate being around me at election time because I get really obsessed.)
I think his political memoir says it all. The Audacity of Hope. What this election has done is wake Americans up to their national politics; instead of dismissing it as a cynical Washington exercise and no big change (even symbolic) to the status quo, the population has got out the vote, they’ve rallied, they’ve got seriously engaged with the issues and their candidate. Whether or not they supported Obama or McCain, enough of them cared and they can really be proud of their democracy.
The PAP might conceivably be worried that so many of us supported Barack Obama and his message of change, but given our electoral system (*cough ‘group’ representation constituency*) and the near-inevitable financial crippling of anyone standing for election who is not a member of the ruling party, I think they probably, realistically, aren’t. Singaporeans aren’t going to suddenly find the balls and the money for a political ‘revolution’.
So why the hell am I so bloody ecstatic? This is our chance, too, to engage with national politics. If you’re concerned about an issue of national importance, make sure you’re heard*. Form a discussion group with your neighbours. Hold Internet forums. Get petitions together. Send your conclusions and questions to your MP, to the minister whose portfolio covers these issues. Make them earn their private sector-standard salary. They are public servants, so they should be serving the public — that would be us. If a certain decision is taken at cabinet level, they should be able to withstand questioning and explain their positions to our satisfaction. Even if your most important issue doesn’t get sorted right away, keep it on the agenda and on their minds. Don’t give up.
I am feeling ridiculously energised and emotional, and I’m sure I’m not the only Singaporean to feel this way. Now is the time to take steps towards real democracy in Singapore, well beyond the one person, one vote concept. We need to participate, not sit back and grumble. This is good for the PAP and great for our country. If we can manage some baby steps towards a lively democracy where enough people care to act, who knows what we could really achieve? JB Jeyaratnam would be so proud.
* I know there are already groups doing this, but there aren’t enough. We need more people to care!
It’s nice to see both Obama and McCain supporters on Twitter. Where are the supporters of the independents, though? Come on, show yourselves! (Edited to add: Some of those Twitterers sure are insane.) On another note, our editorial intern wants to know how Obama can be an elitist and a socialist at the same time. I want to know how he can be Muslim and have a crazy Christian pastor, too. And on another note, I hope voter turnout is high. Democracy is something to be cherished and fought for.
Yes, I booked my tickets weeks earlier and got in the queue with Neil to watch Quantum of Solace on opening night (opening night to the general public, that is). I’ve been a James Bond fan since Deity knows when; I think it has something to do with myself and a bunch of kids being babysat by For Your Eyes Only while all the parentals were partying it up in the living room.
So, what was it like? Entertaining. This is the first 007 I’ve seen that is a proper sequel. While James is supposedly driven extra cold with grief, he doesn’t really seem that broken up about it, since he ends up shagging Strawberry Fields (not a spoiler, it’s alluded to quite directly in the trailer). But maybe his pain is demonstrated in that (*spoiler alert*) he only shags one Bond girl throughout the entire film.
More, and more spoilers, after the jump.