
Tomorrow’s Front Page


I spend a lot of time getting cross at crappy interfaces on software, but the fact is that real life objects are just as bad. I’m typing this at a laptop, for example, with a trackpad. And while Apple have multitouch, click-sensitive trackpads that make sense, this one scrolls using the right hand half a centimetre of pad, which is visually and tactilely indistinguishable from the rest of it. It’s the little things, like Jeff Atwood’s cat feeders, but it’s also the really big things. Our old DVD recorder which asked, when you put a DVD in, if you would like to “access the disc contents” — and to get to the DVD menu, you had to say ‘no’. Toasters which measure time in completely arbitrary units, at least as far as I’m aware. Washing machines that have a key to their own interface on the front. TVs that have a hundred buttons to do basically one thing and you still have to tap ‘circle with an arrow’ four times to watch a DVD.
It’s like people don’t learn. I remember when I could operate a microwave oven by typing in a time and pressing ‘cook’. Ryan North has one where you can just bark numbers at it. And yet this is the thing we have at work:

Obviously that’s absurdly overcomplicated for a device which, much as manufacturers kid themselves otherwise, has only two modes: on and off. (Really, who wants to ‘slow defrost’ anything?) But my main objection is that I have had a bagel spinning around in there for ages, with the microwave all humming to itself and lit up, and without the bagel getting so much as lukewarm. Apparently it only heats food if you set the timer. Where exactly the clue to this is supposed to be is not clear. I assumed when a microwave lit up and span your food round it was cooking. Apparently this one also has a ‘shop demonstration’ mode.
Because the fact is that outward appearances matter. I forgive the absurd obsession of washing machine manufactures with putting any and all options on dials because that at least makes their products obviously washing machines. Humans in Western society have loads of cues and associations built in — say, we pull doors with handles — and it’s daft not to take advantage of them and insane to actively work against them. Putting a handle on a push-only door will confuse and annoy, and this… This is the sink in a bar in Manchester:

Perhaps they considered it designery and artsy, but in fact what they have done is add taps to a urinal and call it a sink. The thing is that I took it for a urinal when I first saw it, and while I noticed the taps fairly quickly, I don’t trust the entire inebriated male population of Manchester to all have done so on any given night. That is a sink which I confidently predict has been pissed in and that is enough to put me off washing in it.
What you need, when cleaning yourself, is a clear interface. So don’t get this brand of shower:

I put it to you that it’s less than totally clear which way is ‘hot’ on this dial. The arrow points right, but it’s on the left. If you’re standing in a room full of steam and you wear glasses, that’s fairly dangerous. And it’s obvious what the dial does, so all they had to do was convey which way was which. That is literally the smallest amount of information it is possible to encode. And still it’s ambiguous.
Even stranger is the dimmer switch in our new conference room.

This has two buttons, one at the top of the switch, and one at the bottom. Here is how I assumed it would work:
Here is how it works:
The upshot of this is that we all look stupid when presenting the work of the Unit to outsiders, because we are supposed to be carefully controlling illumination in clinical trials and can’t operate our own office lights.
And I suppose I just thought that stuff like toasters and lights would have been around for long enough by now for us to have basically mastered the art of making them usable. We don’t have Steve Jobs around any more to fix this stuff up for us, so perhaps it would be a fitting tribute to him if we all stopped making watches that require one long and fourteen short button presses, each with its own high-pitched beep, just to correct for daylight savings, hmm?
Yesterday, I saw Betty Boop and the Little King. It was made in black and white in 1939, and I mention it because there’s a rather impressive 3D effect at around 1:50 (then again later).
Here’s a link from Archive.org if you prefer, but I had less luck with their embedder.
What I like about it is how it was achieved. It was done the same way all visual effects in the 30s were done: they built the thing and pointed a camera at it. That approach wouldn’t even occur to us now.
They had an entire rotating set built to create 30 seconds or so of footage.
I really like a lot of the CGI stuff we have now, and when it’s used well it’s just flawless, but it’s almost impossible to feel a sense of wonder at a visual effect in a modern film because it’s sort of clear how all of them were done. And there’s an elegance to the 1930s solution that the modern one lacks.
The tedious and ridiculous “Supermoon” is back.
The Guardian call it “one of the natural world’s most spectacular light shows”. In fact, the moon is at the closest point to the Earth in its orbit, and it also happens to be a full moon. According to both the Guardian and the BBC,
The phenomenon, known as a perigee full moon, means the Moon appears up to 14% bigger and 30% brighter than when it is furthest from the planet.
Robert Massey, of the Royal Astronomical Society, told the BBC that although the phenomenon makes the moon appear 30% brighter, it is the apparent 14% increase in size … that is most striking. “The eye is so good at compensating for changes in brightness that you simply don’t notice so much,”
No, the reason we don’t notice the moon does appearing 30% brighter is that it doesn’t.
The amount of light that hits the moon depends on the distance from the sun. Light leaves the sun equally in all directions, and if you imagine a load of photons leaving it at the same moment, you get a sphere, and as they fly through space they get more and more spread out. If you move the moon further away, more of them will miss it. The difference in light hitting the moon, between its closest and furthest points, is roughly 0.03%. That only accounts for a .05% change in brightness (and in fact, it’s dwarfed by variations in the Earth’s orbit around the Sun) so where does the other 29.95% come from?
Ah, but the distance to the Earth changes by more, right? Yes — by 14% if you go by the newspapers’ figures. Wolfram|Alpha puts it at nearer 12%. It’s not important. The important point is that once again the nearer the moon is to the Earth, the more light we get — but the more of the sky it takes up. And because both the amount of light and the area of moon in the sky increase at the same rate (the square of the distance) the actual brightness of the moon remains exactly constant. The brightness of the night, on the other hand, increases by a factor of (114%)² = 129.96%. I think it’s pretty clear what’s happened here.
It’s a coincidence that those numbers work out so neatly, obviously, but it does mean we can quantify the accuracy of the “30% brighter” claim: it is 0.17% truth and 99.83% misunderstanding of basic physics. Here’s that data as a graph:
Ah, but look! They have photos! How can I pooh-pooh it when they have photos? Here’s the Guardian’s shot:
That’s a pretty big moon, but not because of the “supermoon”. That’s because of perspective. We all know the moon is larger than a jogger. It shouldn’t be impressive if it seems that way in a photo.
If you doubt me, here is that information presented as a graph:
I mean, I think this is a pretty epic moon:
That was taken on 21 October 2005, when the moon was a little further away than normal. All you have to do to get this effect is to walk backwards and zoom in. Think about it: you can walk backwards for ages and the distance between you and the moon will basically stay the same. The distance between you and the jogger or the building in front of the moon will change a lot. So you can control the relative size of moon and jogger really easily, just like you can take a photo of your giant kid holding up a tiny Tower of Pisa if you really feel you must. And if you make the jogger small, then crop the image around the moon, the moon looks massive.
Because it is. Of course it is, it’s the sodding moon.
I suppose what annoys me about this story is that the ‘supermoon’ is too pathetic to be of interest to photographers, too banal to be of interest to astronomers, and arbitrarily not of interest to astrologers. So who cares? Nobody. Nobody cares. And yet it’s been in every newspaper going, two years on the trot. And it’s one thing when a newspaper does it, because it’s cheaper than doing journalism. But the BBC should be above it.
Maths!
First of all, I’ve written an article for the Aperiodical, an irregular maths blogging collective kind of a thing. It’s about voting systems, crazy dice, paper, lizards and Spock.
“Grime Dice” are a set of five coloured dice with unusual combinations of numbers on them. The red die, for example, has five fours and a nine. The blue one has three twos and three sevens, so it loses to the red die about 58% of the time. The green die has five fives and a zero, and will lose to the blue one in 58% of rolls. What makes them interesting is that the green die will beat the red one in 69% of rolls. These three dice behave rather like rock-paper-scissors — in mathematical terms, they are ‘non-transitive’. The full set of Grime Dice also has a purple and a yellow die, so a better analogy would be rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock.
You might ask which is the best Grime die, and the obvious solution is just to roll all five dice at once, a hundred times, and see which one wins the most times. This is why you should never believe something simply because it is obvious.
I’ve been quite reasonably asked what Ranked Pairs did to deserve omission, to which my only answer is “be a bit inelegant and have a boring name” (not that I have any particular room to criticise it for either of those). If you’re interested, in Ranked Pairs, you start with the strongest preference the voters expressed (say, Labour are better than UKIP), “lock it in”, then keep locking in preferences, in decreasing order of strength and skipping any that would create Grime-dice-style cycles, until you’ve figured out an ordering on all the candidates. The winner is the one who beats every other candidate in the final, locked-in pairings. It’s not so very different from Beatpath (which I did include) but even after Paul’s recasting of it in more elegant terms it still feels a bit clunky to me. I appreciate that “a bit clunky” is not a completely valid mathematical criticism.
Secondly, my maths-based comedy rant thing about stupid formulæ in PR newsfodder will be on at the new Kingston Skeptics in the Pub group on Thursday 2 August. It’s at the Ram Jam Club, which is here:
Come down if that sounds like somewhere near where you live. You’ll learn how to derive the existence of tiny shoe-horns using quantum physics and a cheap advert for some guy’s book. (Connection fans may note that the golf club to the east shares its name with a popular electoral system.)
Lastly, here is some maths I found scattered around the web, which I may bring out at Manchester MathsJam tonight (spoiler alert). It’s about counting, binary, puzzles and hypercubes (as is all maths).
Picture a counter, like the ones used to count people into clubs or on the obnoxious Lynx adverts a few years ago. When a digit ticks over, all the digits to the right of it also tick over to zero. If you had a really big club (or a really noxious deodorant) you might end up changing hundreds of digits at a time. Binary is no different — but sometimes having to change all those bits at precisely the same time causes problems, so you’d much rather only change one digit at a time. To this end, Frank Gray invented a revised binary counting system where that is exactly what happens. In 3-bit, you start as normal at 000, then 001, and then you go to 011 — the nearest unused number. Next, you go to 010 which you missed out, then skip to 110. Next, comes 111, then 101, and then 100 — the only number left. To get back to zero, you flip that single bit at the front back to 000. To get to eight, you need four bits, and it’s 1100 — again only one bit has changed.
So how do you know which bit to flip? Every second flip, starting with the first, is the right-most bit. Every fourth, starting with the second, is the next rightmost bit. Every eighth, starting with the fourth, is the third rightmost. And so on. I think this is interesting, because it’s also the solution to the Towers of Hanoi game: in that, you move the smallest disc first, and every second move after that. You move the second smallest second, and every fourth move after that. You move the third smallest fourth, and every eighth move after that. And so on. This is a neat way to visualise why the time needed to solve Hanoi increases as 2n. (It’s also the solution to the Chinese Ring Puzzle which, generalising from myself, I shall assume you haven’t heard of and ignore.)
Counting in Gray Code is also equivalent to visiting every corner of a hypercube without visiting any twice: if you think of a binary number like 101 as a set of co-ordinates (1, 0, 1), then the numbers 000 to 111 denote the corners of a cube. 00 to 11 give you a square, and 0000 to 1111 give you a four-dimensional hypercube. Obviously you could visit them in standard binary order (0000, 0001, 0010… 1111) but that means taking diagonal tracks through the cube. Gray Code’s system of only changing one bit at a time means you can do it just tracking along the edges — and because you can always change that last bit to get back to zero, you can do a full Hamiltonian cycle, just along the edges, by doing nothing more taxing than counting.
I honestly don’t remember what possessed me to look up Gray Code. It had been sitting in the back of my mind for about two years, and suddenly I thought maybe it was interesting enough to mention at MathsJam. It hadn’t occurred to me that it might have any relevance to traditional wooden puzzles, hyperdimensional navigation, or indeed anything else. But it did. And that is why maths is awesome.
Maryam Namazie’s speech at QED was very powerful and left a lot of people needing a couple of days to think over their response to it. I urge you to read it in full, right now.
What I took away from it was a strong feeling that we (and by ‘we’ I mean secularist, leftie-types) should give religion no quarter. We should not waver or compromise on issues like equality, human rights, the banning of faith schools or the disestablishment of the Church of England. These things are not part of our culture, nor ideals to aspire to. They are basic requirements of secularism and, I increasingly feel, of civilisation. It is shocking that we are even having the discussion, and we should not allow ourselves to believe that something is not utterly disgusting simply because it is the status quo, in this or any other society.
I haven’t written those thoughts up properly, and don’t intend to do so now. Here, I’m addressing just one part of the speech:
Secularism… requires the banning of burqas because they are straitjackets for women and mobile prisons. Of course you can’t ban the veil for adult women but you can still criticise it without attacking women who are veiled. The veil is a symbol like no other of what it means to be a woman under Islam – hidden from view, bound, and gagged. It is a tool for restricting and suppressing women. Of course there are some who choose to be veiled, but you cannot say it is a matter of choice because – socially speaking – the veil is anything but. There is no ‘choice’ for most women. … Take away all the pressure and intimidation and threats and you will see how many remain veiled.
When it comes to the veiling of girls in schools, though, child veiling must not only be banned in public institutions and schools but also in private schools and everywhere. Here the issue extends beyond the principle of secularism and goes straight to the heart of children’s rights. While adults may ‘choose’ veiling or a religion, children by their very nature cannot make such choices; what they do is really what their parents tell them to do. The state is duty bound to protect children and must level the playing field for children and ensure that nothing segregates them or restricts them from accessing information, advances in society and rights, playing, swimming and in general doing things children must do.
In the latest Pod Delusion, Steve Page argues that she is wrong on this point.
My fear is that if the government gets to rule on one item of clothing that a large enough number of people find offensive, then they will not stop at the burqa.
He described the burqa as “bizarre and nonsensical”, and then compared it to skydiving, saying that people should have autonomy to do bizarre and nonsensical things if they so choose. It is the sort of argument that is so simplistic it must be either unarguably true or facile, and I fear it is the latter.
He describes his approach as liberal, and if it was true that the ban is being advocated because “a large enough number of people find [the burqa] offensive” then it would be. In reality, though, his approach is libertarian. In fact, it’s precisely the argument used by the wholly illiberal Conservative party to oppose the EU Working Time Directive, a law which bans excessive hours. The Conservatives said it restricted workers’ rights — which of course is true — and therefore was a bad thing, but didn’t mention that if workers are allowed to work excessive hours then employers will take advantage of that. The truth is that workers have more freedom with the ban than without — at least, in theory. You can make the same case against the ban on working for less than £6.08/hour, or the ban on sixteen-year-olds becoming prostitutes, and in each case it’s nothing like sufficient to show that the ban is problematic. These are bans on things that nobody willingly does. They are bans on being exploited.
The burqa ban would be similar: yes, proponets say, we accept that banning an item of clothing is illiberal and would very much prefer not to, but most veiled women are such not by choice but by intimidation, and banning the burqa represents a very straightforward means of preventing that. Nobody is arguing that respecting people’s rights is unimportant — just about where the line is drawn. Repeatedly stating a premise everyone accepts helps nobody. Such arguments may convince, but convincing someone of your conclusion using false arguments accomplishes nothing but distorting polling data.
In fact, not only does he refuse to address the practical arguments for the ban, he almost argues that you shouldn’t:
The right to do things that other people consider stupid should be protected, simply because we should not appoint an intellectual arbiter to take such decisions out of our hands. Like free speech, you either allow everything, including things you dislike and consider potentially harmful, or you run the risk of letting the government choose what you can or cannot think or say.
…
The decision to ban the burqa can only be justified if one decides that one religious symbol is less worthy of protection than another, and is willing to sacrifice one’s so-called secularist principles for the greater good.
I don’t know Page’s position on every issue under the sun, obviously, but it seems likely he accepts that at least one of these should be illegal:
You can’t simply say “all speech must be free” as if it’s self-evidently true. Loads of people do, but I’ve never once heard any of them criticise skeptics for fighting against dangerous false medical claims, so apparently they are in favour of some restrictions. Why should secularism be immune to real-world compromises?
That’s not really the point, though: you don’t need to compromise your “so-called” secularist principles to ban full-body veiling. Secularism does not require you to pander to any and all religious whims. Accomodationism requires that. Secularism requires you to ignore any and all religious whims. Secularism requires you to pay absolutely no heed to the teachings or traditions of Islam when you decide whether or not banning a particular item of clothing would be a justified or unjustified limitation of your citizens’ liberties. The feelings of individual Muslims should obviously be considered, but one of Namazie’s points in her speech was that we should never assume what those feelings are simply because we have labelled the people.
Ultimately, I think the only question here is what the actual effects of a ban would be. Is there evidence that the ban would have a net positive effect? Page does discuss this, but only briefly and, I think, superficially. He suggests that banning the mobile prison would simply move oppressed women to static prisons — their houses — but offers no evidence of this, which makes me think it is merely a post-hoc rationalisation. But even granting him that assumption, it doesn’t entirely support his thesis. As far as I can tell, he is against bans in principle but this argument is against this particular ban in practice. It is less an argument against a burqa ban than it is an argument for a burqa ban and a system to detect, punish and prevent the kidnapping of women by their husbands and parents. That is a bigger intrusion into people’s lives and rights, and while you could argue that the larger intrusion required to actually solve the problem at hand is not justified, Page doesn’t.
In short, I think that most discussion of any potential burqa ban, particularly on the opposition side, fails to acknowledge or address the actual reasons for it, and that firing off clichéd truisms about bans being bad and freedom being good will only ever be part of the problem. Skeptics in particular are constantly having to make a subtle argument against an opponent with bombastic sledge-hammer of a case, so I would hope they would understand well how annoying it is for a brash interlocutor to confidently and repeatedly assert simplistic things like “I took this pill and I got better” or “loads of people use it” while you’re trying to explain about regression to the mean and recall bias.
But in this case at least, it seems that people are happy to shout down a reasoned argument with a cliché.
It’s strange to me, given the general vitriol aimed at “tax dodgers” lately, that when Greggs the Bakers exploit a legal loophole to avoid paying VAT, everyone in the world springs to their defence.
Here is everything you need to know to understand this story: Fully one sixth of the price of almost anything you buy is passed on to the government as “value added tax” or VAT. Because this is clearly absurd, anything considered essential — books, foods and children’s clothes, for example — is exempt. The exemption for food, though, only applies to food shopping. Eating out or getting a takeaway is considered a luxury and therefore you have to pay VAT on it. In Subway, for example, you can buy a sandwich and take it home and that counts as shopping and is exempt. If you eat it in-store that’s eating out and if you get it toasted then it’s a takeaway so in those cases you have to pay a higher price to cover VAT. Until now, Greggs have avoided this tax by claiming that their food isn’t heated as such; that’s just the temperature food is when it comes out of the oven. The Conservatives want to close this loophole.
According to the Guardian, this is “prompting fears there will be panic buying”. This is stupid: in order to stockpile Cornish pasties, you would have to refrigerate them, and that’s shopping and therefore still exempt from VAT.
Here is how Ed Miliband described the plan:
There is a serious point here which is that the government is hitting people’s living standards in every way they can. Not just fuel duty going up, child benefit taken away, tax credits being cut, now even putting 20% on the cost of pasties, sausage rolls – and the chancellor’s excuse? Well, he says you can buy them cold and you can avoid the tax.
It’s pathetic. I fully expect tabloid newspapers to report this as some kind of “pie duty” the evil toffs in government have levied on the down-trodden, hard-working masses while subsidising caviar and pâté de fois gras — but anyone who wants to be Prime Minister should have the maturity not to. This is not the first time Miliband has attacked an utterly reasonable coalition policy for some superficial reason like this, and every time he does it I lose a little respect for him: aside from the fact that he’s essentially misleading the public to score points, there are enough genuinely evil coalition policies to attack that indulging in this sort of stupid bullshit is actively dangerous: his bickering about pasties could cost us the NHS.
And “the chancellor’s excuse” Miliband speaks of is not really the chancellor’s excuse at all — it’s Greggs’ excuse. Their claim is that pasties should be VAT exempt because they’re not designed to be eaten hot. If that were true, nobody would care if they were sold cold from now on. The fact that people are so upset that heat is going to cost extra proves that it should. (Obviously I’m setting aside concerns about the appropriateness of VAT itself here.)
The latest non-development in this non-story is that Cameron said his last pasty was from the shop in Leeds train station — but that closed two years ago! Look at it! It thinks it’s investigative journalism!
Greggs are threatening to sue, although not for anything in particular that I can make out.
It’s being treated like some kind of nasty swipe at working people who get a pasty every lunchtime — the Sun are even comparing it to Marie Antoinette’s “let them eat cake” proclamation (because both involve snack foods) — but even without VAT that’s an absurdly expensive way to eat. Get yourself a pack of bagels and a tub of cheese on Monday and you can eat all week for the price of a pasty. Getting a hot takeaway every day is a luxury; is it really cause for outrage that it’s being taxed alongside cake instead of a loaf of bread?
Lester Sawicki is a dentist from Austin, who specialises mainly in spamming Amazon affiliate links across Blogger, Digg, Twitter, and generally whatever other site he can find a ‘submit’ button on. It’s hard to tell if his blog is intended as a real blog that he simply happens to have plastered with more adverts than a multi-bus pileup in Times Square during the Superbowl, or if he just shoves content there from time to time to give Google that impression, but I strongly suspect it’s the latter. It took me so long to find the bit about Muslim athletes that I started to suspect the tweet I used as the title of this post was generated by something like the Daily Mail-o-Matic. (In fact, it’s an energy-packed mouthrinse for use during the Ramadan fast.) He also writes sells ridiculous books with names like Yin Ain’t Yang: the ancient way to better health that only a Texan could come up with.
This came to my attention, anyway, because said ridiculous book was recently highlighted in the British Dental Journal, which is part of the Nature publishing group and therefore should know better. Here is the news story in its entirety. The first paragraph is a textbook case of “technically true” and it goes downhill from there.
A book written by a dentist in Austin, Texas reveals how the teeth, tongue and jaws are powerful tools that can unlock ‘vital energy that may improve overall health, fitness and longevity’.
According to Dr Lester Sawicki, author of Yin ain’t yang, the ancient way to better health, modern science is beginning to understand ancient wisdom about the link between healthy teeth, gums and jaw function and boosting general fitness, health, and longevity. New evidence proves that teeth are joined to vital organs by way of energy channels and when the teeth, tongue and jaws are included in a regular meditative exercise routine you can access and refine the body’s ‘chakras’ to promote a long, healthy, strong existence.
Dr Sawicki believes that meditative exercise using your teeth, body, and mind can relieve stress, improve cardiovascular function and flexibility, increase bone density, balance hormones, circulate lymph, detoxify organs, increase brain function and induce happiness.
The book offers a series of energy-building visualisations and physical exercises aimed at strengthening and aligning the ‘chi centre’ of the oral cavity with the ‘power centres’ of the body.
This was in their “news” section, which accepts press releases, so I can only assume he did that. Which is a bit sad – I expect this sort of thing from tabloids, I’m a bit disappointed when the Guardian do it, and now here it is in a scientific journal, listed as “news”. And the second sentence in the second paragraph is missing the phrase “Dr Sawicki believes”.
It’s just a bit sad when you’re jumping through hoops trying to get a paper through someone’s review system, if they’re publishing just any old shit in the news and comment sections.
Apparently, there are plans to make a TV improv comedy show where viewers can tweet ideas.
This sort of thing annoys me. Partly it’s because the audience at a studio recording of @cuff (formerly “Fast and Loose”, formerly “Mock the Week”, formerly “Whose Line Is It Anyway”) is already sufficient to generate ideas, and I suspect that the hassle-factor involved in getting tickets and physically to a recording will increase the average quality of suggestions, too. If you have a room full of self-identifying improvised comedy fans, who have to shout ideas in person in front of seven professional comedians, then they’re surely bound to give you funnier ideas than Jeff and Tina McRandom sitting at home tapping out “now do it like a horror movie” and hitting “send” — not least because Jeff and Tina will post their first thought without knowing that (or wondering if) it’s horrendously clichéd.
Also, once you get a million people tweeting ideas, you can pretty much do whatever you were going to do anyway and rationalise it post-hoc by searching the Twitter stream for the ten or twenty people who will inevitably have suggested it. It would be a lot of fun to pre-record an hour’s scripted and predictable comedy, then show it as a “Twitter experiment”, with a live ticker of tweets from real users whose uninspired suggestions best matched the next bit of the script.
But mostly, they annoy me because the use of Twitter is always, always superfluous. The idea “improv show where the audience can send in ideas” is not something that became possible when Twitter launched. It was possible the moment SMS messages became commonplace. It was possible the moment webforms became a thing. Pretty sure you could do it with telephones, or fax, and other technologies that predate television. It’s an idea that has been easily doable for something like fifteen years, and yet somehow producers can’t get excited about it unless it involves Twitter or Facebook — and preferably the former because that has more jargon. And they always talk about “technology” as if sending 140-character messages to a TV studio requires some kind of fucking flux capacitor that only the mad scientists at Twitter have access to. It doesn’t. It requires a webform. It’s obvious that the creative process is less “think of a great concept, then figure out which technology could make it happen” than “think of something popular, then flick through the Radio Times until you find something to bolt it onto”.
Ultimately, though, to the average viewer, @cuff will be indistinguishable from Fast and Loose: many will be using iPlayer or watching repeats, so won’t be able to post ideas; the majority of those who can probably won’t bother; the majority of ideas that are posted won’t be read because there will just be too many to track; and the majority of ideas that are read won’t be used. So what’s the point?
Every so often, David Cameron walks around a building, followed by news crews. Nobody ever punches him in the face. Some people might call this “admirable restraint”. I call it a shameful dereliction of their moral duty.
I don’t just mean because he deserves a smack in the mouth, although obviously he does. Eric Joyce was arrested recently for punching some Tory MPs in the Commons bar, and I remember thinking I would find it very difficult, if I worked in a building full of Tory MPs, not to punch a few (although I see why Labour took the whip away from him: clearly he can’t be trusted with it).
I can’t imagine why Cameron would want to stroll through my office followed by news crews, but if he did, I would not feel comfortable not shouting at him — aside from the lost opportunity to improve the world, it would make it seem like I support his policies. So before the visit, I’d spend ages trying to figure out what I should say to him. This would make me despondent and angry, until the alternative — simply punching him in the face — seemed more attractive.
The thing is, though, that punching him in the face is the better option. I could rant at Cameron until blue in the face — a perfectly constructed stream of vitriol and rage, full of clear, accessible and well-argued points — but probably nobody would hear it except for him, and he’d ignore it. But if I lamped him, right in the middle of the stupid, smug playdoh lump that passes for his face, then I think I’d get to write a long article in at least one major newspaper explaining exactly why I did it. I’d get to speak directly to the public in a way ranting at him couldn’t accomplish.
This is my point: you — each and every one of you — has a clear and immutable moral obligation to punch David Cameron right in the chops, the next time you see him.
Do not let us down on this.