And now, a word from our sponsor...

This blog is brought to you by the good old British weather. No, really - it was born on a wet, windy Sunday morning, had the sun been shining it might still be no more than a half-formed aspiration. You see, I'd planned to go biking with some friends - which I see as doing my bit for the environment: y'know, pumping out large amounts of burnt hydrocarbons, and cutting a swathe through the flying insect population of southern Scotland (no doubt somewhere sparrows will be starving because their dinner's splattered all over my leathers).

But the weather, it seemed, had other ideas and, not being one of those bikers who particularly enjoys getting soaked and blown into the path of oncoming traffic, I was left with no option but to make good on a promise I'd made Art-Girl the day before: if the biking was called off I'd start a blog. You see, for some reason best known to herself, Art-Girl finds my writing mildly amusing (here's a tip guys: if you wanna get into a girl's knickers you need neither Donald Trump's bank balance nor Linford Christie's lunchbox, all you need is Woody Allen's sense of humour...though there's always a risk he'll sue you for copyright violation if he finds out you're using it). Anyway, for some months Art-Girl had been suggesting I start blogging and now, thanks to that most capricious manifestation of the Random - the British weather, I have.

This blog does exactly what it says on the tin. Here you'll find my meditations, observations and rants on all sorts of things - some utterly trivial, some deadly serious. You'll find wit (just maybe), wisdom (unlikely, but anything's possible), derision (almost certainly) and mockery (guaranteed) - sometimes all in one sentence. You may find your favourite sacred cows not just mocked but stunned, slaughtered, butchered and served up medium-rare with a nice merlot. You may well find some robust language or other cause for offence. Well, if anything you read here offends you in any way I cordially invite you to stop reading and bugger off! That's what 'grown-ups' do in free societies - if they don't like it they don't read it or watch it. Freedom of expression is an absolute and I'm under no obligation to make sure I don't offend you (whoever you are). I won't mock your race, sex, age, disability or sexuality (well, not unless you're into something really pervy) but all else is fair game.

Now, if you still want to read this blog just come this way...

Monday, 28 June 2010

Biodiversity - good or bad? Discuss

 Hello Gentle Reader

The subject of today's post is biodiversity, a subject which has very recently been elevated on my agenda. Have you noticed how certain people...well, sandal-wearing, lentil-munching, Grauniad-reading ecomentalist people to be specific. Y'know, the sort who lie awake at night worrying that somewhere someone might just be enjoying themselves (probably with - Heaven forfend! - petrol or meat or both). Anyway, the subject of this post is not them as such, rather something very dear to their recycled little hearts, one of their sacred cows: biodiversity. They're always banging on about how it's a 'good thing', without ever explaining in what way exactly this is so. Well, I'm sorry...actually no I'm not. Being of a naturally sceptical turn of mind (reinforced by years of observation) I see no reason why I should apologise for questioning anything.

Ok, back on topic - biodiversity. We're constantly told it's a 'good thing' and we must preserve it at all costs, but rarely, if ever, why. Well, I have my own observations on this issue. What's that you say? They're not observations merely opinions. I say po-TAY-to you say po-TAH-to. Whatever. Except I'm right - you want to be right, go start your own blog!)

Bloody hell, I'm having trouble staying on topic today, it must be the drugs (don't panic - they really are for 'medicinal purposes'). Right, biodiversity - in the (not so humble) view of your humble blogger I think it's not as good a thing as the sandalistas make out and a little less of it might be appropriate. Now, before you reach for the keyboard to accuse me of being a meat-eating (let's just say the spit-roast I attended at the weekend in no way involved Premiership fottballers and a slapper name Tracy), petrol-using, heterosexual, man let me just say mea cupla to all of the above. But, consider this: ebola - is that a 'good thing'? (I suspect, if you asked them, most Africans would rather not expire by hemorrhaging copiously from every orifice). Or how about the smallpox virus? Surely the world wouldn't be that bad a place for its loss? How about lice, ticks, fleas (those good friends of that little bacillus yersinia pestis AKA bubonic plague) or tapeworms. I think we'd get along just fine if these little buggers went the way of the dinosaur. Or what about this particular critter:


Utter utter utter utter utter bastard (Culicoides impunctatus)

Art-Girl and I were away camping at the weekend, at a particularly idyllic spot on the shore of Loch Rannoch. Well, it was idyllic until myriad swarms of c. impunctatus descended upon us...well, mostly upon me. Bastards! I'm currently suffering from in excess of 100 very inflamed and itchy midge bites. Bites so bad that I'm taking antihistamine tablets and liberally coating myself in antihistamine cream, but for little relief. And before any of my loyal readers suggest "Oh, but you should've used Avon Skin So Soft" let me say I did use Avon Skin So Soft - it had no effect other than to give the little buggers a nice sticky surface to land on so they could bite me all the easier.

Apparently midges are attracted to the CO2 on their victim's breath. Well, now there's a potential midge avoidance approach: I'll simply stop exhaling. Hell, I'll stop respiring altogether - that ought to do the trick. Actually, that gives me an idea for an effective (probably) anti-midge strategy (no, not auto-asphyxiation) - what if I was to provide a diversionary source of CO2? What if I were to park the rabbit (that's my beloved Alfa Romeo for those readers new to this blog) nearby with her engine running? Well, she produces millions of carbon dioxides that are, according to the gummint who use it as a pretext for taxing me to buggery for the 'sin' of owning a nice car, killing the planet. That being the case I can put those carbon dioxides to good use: killing a very specific bit of the planet by enticing it up the exhaust pipe and flash-frying it in the catalytic converter.

So, in conclusion I think we can say that biodiversity is not universally a 'good thing' and that it can happily stand to lose at least this one species. So, if God or Gaia or an even more powerful entity (I have in mind some third world-exploiting multinational chemical corp) can arrange it for the Highland Midge to run up the curtain and join the Choir Invisible I'll be deeply grateful. Next week: I tell you what I really think of the polar bear and how I won't be the least bit sorry if it fucks off and dies too. Ok, that may make your little Julian and Jemima (for whom you adopted a WWF polar bear* last Crimbo) cry, but if that is the case you've gotta ask yourself just what the fuck are your kids doing reading a blog written by an angry bastard who makes liberal use of 'post-watershed' language?

Right, my bites are itching like a Turkish tart's chuff. I need relief (no, not that kind you dirty-minded individual) and I won't get it from poncey antihistamine cream. I know: a large G&T (or six) should do the trick.

Chin chin!

*I was totally unaware that the World Wrestling Federation did polar bears. I'd always assumed their stock in trade was big oiled up men with the oratory skills of a baboon and the mullets of a 1980s German heavy metal band. Just goes to show: you learn something new everyday.
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