Reading matters

The Guardian was on form yesterday. If you didn't get it, please read these:

Funny old world
As a show featuring Muslim comedy starts a British tour, its star tells Sarfraz Manzoor why Islam can laugh at itself, why fundamentalists don't get the joke - and why he's definitely hanging on to his beard
"Usman will be opening his British shows with an observation about how different the vibe is in Britain compared to the US. 'When I walk down the street in America I get dirty looks for being Muslim - here I'm hated just for being an American.'"

Sunshine
Peter Bradshaw reviews Danny Boyle's new film
"Icarus I was the first mission, led by Capt Pinbacker (Mark Strong) which went out some years ago and disappeared with crew and mega-bomb unaccounted for. Perhaps they all became demoralised by the frankly rather tactlessly chosen name."

How the web became a sexists' paradise
Everyone receives abuse online but the sheer hatred thrown at women bloggers has left some in fear for their lives. Jessica Valenti, editor of Feministing.com, reports
"It was, without doubt, the most humiliating experience of my life - all because I dared be photographed with a political figure."

Moira Stuart profile
Media celebs question BBC decision to dump one of its older female newsreaders
"She comes from an older generation, where the journalists did the journalism, and the newscasters, with magisterial authority, read the news without any inflection of opinion or judgment, except possibly a tiny half smile at the skateboarding canary."

East Coker does not deserve the taint
of TS Eliot's narcissistic gloom
A Somerset village with a golden-toned church was done a serious disservice by this bleak, American poet
"In my beginning is my end," he began the poem and ended it, "in my end is my beginning". This faintly oriental paradox leaves Eliot pilgrims scratching their heads before stomping off to the Helyar Arms down the road.

SneaKY

More gold from Sky, following the first press conference from the British marines and sailors, freshly released after their capture by Iran.

After a statement from two of the crew members and questions from the journalists in attendance, the press get the chance to do one-to-ones with the navy personnel, who, let’s remember, are not media trained.

Sky News’ journalist, Andy Moore, quickly heads over to get his exclusive face-to-face interview. "Adam Sperry, you’re live on Sky News," he says to the 22-year-old marine who’s now sitting with his family. Then, thrusting the mic into a startled Sperry’s face: "I understand you wished to be with a media officer, but you’re live."

Lights and darkness

As I'd predicted, the Stockwell traffic lights have been 'fixed'. Fixed so they no longer provide pedestrians with a guaranteed instant crossing. Fixed so drivers no longer have to bow to the superior whims of those on foot. Fixed so they are no longer the unique beacons of efficient beauty they once were.

This abhorrent neutering struck me with full force yesterday morning as I stood, waiting with the other poor stranded commuters, for the lights to change. For a moment, I contemplated throwing myself in front of the oblivious cars going by and shouting to the others, "Now walk, you poor stationary fools!" as my body was mashed by the churning wheels of the speed-greedy beasts of metal.

But then the lights changed, and I crossed.

Britons released, reports Sky, first

In the excitement following the announcement that Iran would be releasing the captured British Royal Navy service personnel, it was good to see Sky News getting its priorities right.

During a studio link-up interview with the sister of captured serviceman Arthur Batchelor Maggie Phillips, the relieved relative mentioned that she'd seen the news of the sailors and marines release "earlier on [BBC News] 24..."

The Sky interviewer - I believe it was Julie Etchingham - waited until Phillips had finished speaking and, in a rather prissy voice, pointed out that she would have heard about it even earlier if she'd been watching Sky News. Miaow!

The three click trick

The traffic lights that lie on the road between Stockwell tube station and my flat are broken. Not a promising start, you might think, but I wouldn’t be writing about this if these traffic lights weren't the most amazing traffic lights I've ever encountered.

When I was younger, my grandma discovered – I know not how – that if you can't be bothered to wait around, there's a secret way for pedestrians to make the lights change to red immediately. To pull off this impressive trick, you simply press the button three times in quick succession and the lights will change, causing traffic to screech to a halt as you gleefully prance across the road.

But there are several hitches: a) it doesn't work on all sets of traffic lights b) it doesn't work if you don't get your button pressing timing right c) it doesn't work if the lights have only just changed to green. These three factors have led to problems when I've tried to convince people of the brilliance of the trick. I've frequently had to finish a failed demonstration by explaining weakly, "Well, it doesn't work on all traffic lights." This has meant that not everyone to whom I've revealed the trick has believed I'm telling the truth.

However, the brilliant thing about the Stockwell traffic lights is that the three-click trick isn't even required; as long as the lights have been green for a certain period of time, just one press of the button will immediately turn them red. This, as I often think to myself on my walk home from the tube, places all the power in the hands of the pedestrian. In being able to determine the exact moment that cars stop, and so potentially having an effect on factors such as what time drivers arrive at work, whether they'll miss being in a major life-changing accident up ahead and so on, the pedestrian is actually capable of changing the course of human history.

But now the Stockwell lights are broken. And I have a strange feeling that when are fixed, they'll have lost their unique power. The drivers will have regained the initiative.

Pity the April fool

Wrote a thing on The Other Blog yesterday about the day's best April Fools pranks. It's here.

Down a Pegg or two

Okay, Shawn of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, blah blah blah. But for my money, Simon Pegg's greatest ever moment came during the Brass Eye Special when the presenters are united in a terrible singalong (led by "the St Lazurus The Amethyst School Choir") encapsulating the lessons learnt during the programme.

Pegg only appears for several seconds, as the guitarist, but steals the show, despite not even being in the foreground of the shot. Sporting a wig of long curly blond hair and a white Mojo readers muso shirt, he combines ostentatious gum-chewing and a show-off guitar fill to make the programme's funniest moment. It's at 7.40 on the vid below (or 2.20 if it's showing time remaining).

"A melancholy emblem of parish cruelty"

There's no doubt about it, John Peel favourites Half Man Half Biscuit are a damn funny band.

But what makes them so good is not just those oh-so-British oh-so-scathing lyrics, but something rather technical and dull: it's how perfectly they fit the lyrics around the melodies. For example, the first line of Shit Arm, Bad Tattoo (which is all about The Libertines' eponymous second album) goes:

I could've put my head in a bucket full of porridge and moaned about the hospital parking scheme;
I would've saved £14 that I'd just splashed out on your second album.

It's the kind of lyric that most would struggle to shoehorn into an actual, y'know, song. But singer/writer Nigel Blackwell carries it off with complete ease, as if the track could begin with nothing but this strange couplet.

But this is not to underestimate Blackwell's lyrical skills. He's also capable of some surprisingly poetic moments. Towards the end of Bad Review, a song about a band who've just received an unfavourable write-up ("Page thirty-two, it's a bad review / Oh Lord. My girfriend's fuming"), the band start chanting "Boo hoo, what's to do? / It's a bad review" and Blackwell suddenly launches into the following lines:

The fearsome hollow boom of the older boys in the deep end,
Green shoots of recovery shriveled up in harsh tomorrows.
Left to pick dry sticks and mumble to myself;
A melancholy emblem of parish cruelty.

That last line really is the tops. After they played the song on Peel's show in the October of 1996, it prompted the DJ to come out with his occasionally-quoted epigram, "When I die, I want them to be buried with me."

An Armand a leg(end)

Although the Armando Iannucci Shows first appeared six years ago, one particular sketch of his stuck in my head the whole time. Salvadore from Smaller Than Life has awakened this dormant memory in my oft-confused brain with a hilarious series of posts. Read them, then watch Iannucci work his magic. Or vice versa, it doesn't really matter.

Lessons learned from... Moliere

Always write from experience.