Public Safety Warning

Motorists, wall builders and street sweepers across the region be warned…

Fanackapan is back on the road!

Pedantry

You may have gathered that I feel quite strongly about the way the Ross/Brand/Sachs affair has been handled…

In particular, I have been quite surprised that certain commentors on this website have come out so vehemently against the alleged perpetrators of what he sees as a major offence, stating that, in no uncertain terms, a serious offence has been comitted and ‘hangings too good for the scruffy oik!’

He has quoted Section 127 of the Communications Act 2003 as the pertinent point of law applicable in this case, so lets take a look at what it says:

127 Improper use of public electronic communications network

(1) A person is guilty of an offence if he—

(a) sends by means of a public electronic communications network a message or other matter that is grossly offensive or of an indecent, obscene or menacing character; or

(b) causes any such message or matter to be so sent.

(2) A person is guilty of an offence if, for the purpose of causing annoyance, inconvenience or needless anxiety to another, he—

(a) sends by means of a public electronic communications network, a message that he knows to be false,

(b) causes such a message to be sent; or

(c) persistently makes use of a public electronic communications network.

(3) A person guilty of an offence under this section shall be liable, on summary conviction, to imprisonment for a term not exceeding six months or to a fine not exceeding level 5 on the standard scale, or to both.

Now, paragraph 1 says, in a nutshell, that if you use the phone to send a message that is offensive or obscene or menacing, you would be guilty of an offence under this act.

In the course of my research, I have taken the trouble to listen to the call in question on You Tube, and have fully read the transcript, and while the language used is at times unsavoury, and a little schoolboyish, in this day and age, when the word c**t is used quite readily after the watershed, I don’t think that obscene (IMHO) is a word that can be used in this instance.  There was no menace involved – the call was quite obviously made in a jovial manner – and the word ‘menace’ implies that some form of threat is involved.

Paragraph 2 states that an offence is comitted if a message is sent that the perpetrator knows to be false.  As I’m sure Ms Baillie will concede, that was clearly not the case.

But, in my mind, the clincher is paragraph 4, which states:

(4) Subsections (1) and (2) do not apply to anything done in the course of providing a programme service (within the meaning of the Broadcasting Act 1990 (c. 42)).

So what have we learned from this?

Read the whole thing!  Don’t cherry pick the law to find the things you like!  And for gods sake, get some perspective!

And his name is Jonathon ROSS, not Woss!!

With that put to bed, maybe we can now look at more important issues. Like, just how much noise do domino players need to make while we are trying to have a quiet debate at the top of our voices…

Its All Getting Out Of Control…

Timeline extrapolated

Stop Press!

It appears that Jonathon Ross and Russel Brand have been forced to sign the ‘Sachs Offendors’ register!

Friday – Not Much To Say So Far

I passed 3 ambulances – lights a-blazing and sirens a-warbling – on my way home last night…

Of course, my immediate thought was ‘for the love of god, some fool has lent Fanackapan a car!’

In other news, a Heaton resident has realised that the woman who invites you back for sexy times with her and her friends, then shaves your eyebrows off when you fall unconscious from the booze, is probably NOT marriage material!

Fanackered

For those exhibiting severe symptoms of morbid curiosity, have a look at these pics of Fanackapans Corsa in the scrap yard this morning, and be amazed at the lucky escape…

I Can’t Get It Out Of My Head…

As wll as being a bit fed up with people sending me Funspace messages telling me ‘NOT to add various people to my list because they are hackers’ (Mark Butterfield appears to be the latest candidate, whoever he is), I’m also fed up with hearing about poor poor Georgina Baillie, who was outed as a past shagpiece by Russell Brand a few days ago…

As well as reminding me of that interminably kitsch pop song from 1977 by Noosha Fox, causing me to inexplicably serenade the long suffering Mrs Funk before we went to bed last night in a desperate effort to get it out of my head, I happen to think that the whole episode has been blown out of all proportion.  And some serious double standards are at work here.

John, George and Russell

Okay, I’m not going to condone what Russell Brand and Jonathon Ross did – for those of you who have been off-planet for the last fortnight, they rang Manuel (aka Andrew Sachs) up and left a message on his answerphone boasting that Brand had shagged Georgina, who just happens to be Manuels’ granddaughter.  It was a childish prank, and given that the call was pre recorded, there is no excuse for either of the 2 protagonists or their producers allowing it to be broadcast.  It turns out that his claims were true, although, again, no excuse for allowing it to be broadcast.

When the show went out, there were apparently 10 or so complaints.  Then the Daily Mail got hold of the story, and all of a sudden we are now up to 20,000 plus complaints, a figure still rising.  Hell, I even thought about ringing in and complaining myself, such is the persuasive power of the insidious Daily Mail.

As far as I can make out, Mr Sachs was relatively happy to let the matter lie as long as adequate apologies were made.  But Miss Baillie, that elusive Heat photoshoot and lucrative ‘kiss and tell’ story in the Sun in her crosshairs, has pushed the issue to the point where Mr Brand has resigned his position at the BBC, and Jonathon Ross – one of the most popular personalities on the station – has been suspended.

Even Gordon Brown has been pushed to comment, though I think he has got more important matters to deal with really, what with all this credit crunch stuff going on.

The thing is, Ross has always been a bit risque, and regularly pushes the boundaries a bit.  That is how he manages to keep his show fresh, exciting and popular.  They don’t just hand those £18 million golden handcuff contracts out for nothing, so he must be doing something right in the eyes of the Beeb.  On this occasion though, egged on by the equally controversial Brand, he has gone a bit too far.  But so what?  Mr Sachs is sort of okay about it, and is probably cringing over the media furore.  The only one who is continually pushing it is Baillie.

Who performs for a burlesque troupe called ‘Satanic Sluts’.

Poor Poor Georgina in action

Who’s stage name is Voluptua.

You can see her in action here (WARNING:  Clicking that link will expose you to striptease, bouncing boobies and simulated sex)

Who is being paid thousands by the Sun for her story

Who will probably end up on I’m A Celebrity or Celebrity Big Brother on your screens soon

Who did shag Russell Brand, and there is a rumour going round that she bet Brand £1000 that he daren’t tell her grandfather about it (although I couldn’t say whether it is true or not)

I’m sure that it won’t be long before the Daily Mail turns on poor poor Georgina – after all, she isn’t quite the type of person to appeal to the blue rinsed, biased, bigot brigade who buy the Mail on a regular basis.  Is she?

I’m sure her grandfather is very proud of her, and really chuffed that she is keeping the media spotlight on him, possibly for months to come.

‘Georgina Baillie

Had come of age

Her mother sent her off to France

To stay with Jean Paul

Her loving uncle

To learn of drama and modern dance’

Corsa Killer

Word reached us this morning (at around 2.30am – cheers mate!) of an accident involving Fanackapan, his trusty Corsa and a patch of black ice…

Apparently, after a brief ‘argument’ between the ice and the car, the car lost and tipped over onto it’s roof in disgust, leaving poor Fanackapan upside down with all the blood rushing to his head.  Luckily, he was relatively unhurt and was treated for minor cuts and bruises at the hospital.  Unfortunately the car isn’t okay, and will likely be written off, leaving our hero without transport.

EDIT:  Fanackapan has been in touch with a (admittedly poor) photograph of his poor dead car.

Poor Dead Car

Interestingly, our occasional informer Barely Legal also contacted us with this story this morning, and has linked this accident with what she claims is the mysterious general ‘killing off’ of Corsas from the area.  Old Heatonian hasn’t any recollection of other Corsa crashes, but will be interested to hear if anyone has any corroborative evidence to back up this claim.  Or is it that people have finally realised that Corsas are a bit crap, and have swapped them for something else?

In other news, semi-regular commentor MissMatchmaker has opined that Heatons menfolk ‘are no good at taking orders’…

Perhaps she has formed this opinion from her 3 months experience of dating one of our merry bunch, but to be fair, I don’t think any man – regardless of where he lives – is good at obeying orders (outside a military situation at any rate).  No, MissMatchmaker, men respond to gentle coercion, sexual blackmail and the subtle art of ‘persuading him to do something while convincing him it was his idea in the first place’.

The only orders the person to which you are alluding will respond to are ‘last orders’ – THEN he’s up to the bar like a rat up a drainpipe!

Oh, and I hope you enjoyed your Fray Bentos pie.

OBF

A Steam Engine

As part of my duties as unoffical event organiser for the members of the Kings Arms teatime session crowd, I decided that a day exploring the magic (and indeed majesty) of the golden age of steam would be appropriate. Living relatively close to the Worth Valley railway, a day of culture and education was in order at the Oxenhope Engine Shed, where we could examine in minute detail the engineering marvels which powered our transporation system in a bygone age…

Nah!  Not really – we went to the Worth Valley Railway Beer Festival!!  Woo hoo!

And so it came to pass, the RHQM looked on helplessly as a sizeable contingent of his Saturday afternoon customer base decamped and travelled via mini bus to Oxenhope Engine Sheds, there to sample what amounted to a veritable cornucopia of examples of the brewers art.

It wasn’t long before – beer tokens clutched in sweaty palm and glass full of our first choice – we were

Loads of Beer! Happy Drinkers!

extolling the virtues of our choice like seasoned CAMRA pros.  When we arrived, the place was reasonably full, with plenty of room to wander around and inspect the wares on offer.  It wasn’t long, however, before the trains started arriving, belching out their cargo of even more beer fans keen to explore the beers of the nation.

And explore them we did.  Six of us embarked on this journey – Captain Kidd, the BedMaker (keen to prove his beer drinking prowess in anticipation of his Stag Do), Spike, Dan the Man, Dribbly and myself – each armed with a 10 token card and a half pint glass.  Dribbly fired straight into the selection of ciders and perrys, while the rest of us started off with a session beer.  It wasn’t long before we had cranked it up a notch though, and sampled the dubious delights of Cherry Bomb – ABV 6.6 – with a ‘maraschino cherry finish’.  This was an interesting beer, but by the time I had drunk half, I was ready to neck it and move onto something a little less cloying.  Wheat beers, bitter beers, sweet beers, stout beers – between us I think we ran the full gamut of beer types available.

At around the 4 o clock mark, Dribby turned up with a bottle of something he looked particulalry pleased with.

‘It cost me 2 tokens and 20p on top did this’ he explained, offering his glass for us to sniff.

Bavarian Smoked Beer.  Even my unseasoned palate knew that this was something special, though not necessarily in a good way.  It’s odour was reminiscent of the Whitby Kipper Sheds, mingled with hints of ‘gumboots by the Aga’.  It’s taste was indescribable, and was compared by the eloquent Spike to ‘beer made out of liquidised, putrified peperami’.  It was rejected out of hand by all but ‘iron tongue’ Dan the Man, who seemed to quite like it.

By this time, the kegs were emptying and choice was becoming limited, even though there were still crowds of new revellers joining the throng as mini buses and trains arrived and disgorged their passengers.  Soon, it became apparent that we were a man down.  Dribbly had disappeared!  After a quick look around we decided that he had decided to brave the portaloos.  Then my phone rang – Dribbly!  I couldn’t hear him. so I went outside to chat, and there he was, looking a bit worse for wear waiting by the station.

‘I’m off home for a kip’ explained the lightweight.

Typical!  The man who’s knowledge and prowess in the beer drinking arena we all look up to was the first casualty, bottling out at the first sign of fatigue.  There was no persuading him round, so off he went, and as a man we resolved to put him on the naughty list until such time as we see fit.

Anyway, after a quite excellent session, the lack of choice led us to decide that our time was over, and we repaired back to the Kings for a sit down, a quite unexciting lager, and a nice cosy chat.

Install It And They Will Come (part The End?)

Lunchtime visitors to the Kings Arms were treated to a demonstration of the mighty Dyson Airblade yesterday…

The Mighty Dyson Airblade

RHQM, long suffering landlord of the pub, had hinted to me late last week that he was considering leasing a couple of the machines – at £700 a go they are much too expensive to buy up front, though the leasing terms were very favourable.

So, it appears he had a rep round to demonstrate the equipment and discuss terms.  (I’m a bit disappointed that he didn’t give me warning though – I’d have booked the day off work!).

The customers looked on in awe as the rep put the machine through it’s paces, wetting her hands and drying them off in that complete, hygienic and – more importantly in this day and age – planet saving way that it does.

I like to think that onlookers were invited to have a go themselves too, although I don’t have that information.  I for one would have insisted!

Anyway, by all accounts the negotiations were tense and arduous, but the rep failed to secure a sale, as she insisted that the minimum term for any lease would be 5 years, which RHQM was unwilling (quite rightly, given the current state of the pub market) to commit to at this stage.

So it seems our dream of space age technology in the pissers is almost over.  Although, RHQM appears to have taken on board our comments that the current facilities are a bit rubbish, and is currently trying to source alternative technology, which may be almost as exciting.

Almost.