Archive | September, 2009

What the kids are listening to

In the interests of cultural historians yet to be, I present here the tracks played at my daughter’s 13th birthday party. The music was felt to be by common consent “awesome”:

1. Black or White – Michael Jackson
2. Bulletproof – La Roux
3. Diamond Rings – Chipmunk feat. Emeli Sande
4. Supernova – Mr Hudson
5. Boom Boom Pow – Black Eyed Peas
6. Celebration – Madonna
7. Boys and Girls – Pixie Lott
8. Evacuate the Dancefloor – Cascada
9. Knock You Down – Keri Hilson feat. Kanye West
10. Left My Heart in Tokyo – Mini Viva
11. Release Me – Agnes
12. 22 – Lily Allen
13. Let’s Get Excited – Alesha Dixon
14. Sexy Bitch – David Guetta feat. Akon
15. Remedy – Little Boots
16. Valerie – Mark Ronson feat. Amy Winehouse
17. Never Forget You – The Noisettes
18. Billie Jean – Michael Jackson
19. Heartbreak (Make Me a Dancer) – Freemasons feat. Sophie Ellis-Bextor
20. Poker Face – Lady GaGa
21. Holiday – Dizzee Rascal
22. Jai Ho! (You Are My Destiny) – A.R. Rahman & The Pussycat Dolls feat. Nicole Scherzinger
23. When Love Takes Over – David Guetta feat. Kelly Rowland
24. Ready for the Weekend – Calvin Harris
25. Bonkers – Dizzee Rascal & Armand van Helden
26. Beat Again – JLS
27. Untouched – The Veronicas
28. Never Leave You – Tinchy Stryder & Amelle
30. Blame It On The Boogie – The Jacksons
31. Hot ‘n’ Cold – Katy Perry
32. We Are Golden – Mika
33. I Gotta Feeling – Black Eyed Peas

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Meetings and email get a bad rap

It is customary these days for a certain type of groovy web dude to declare “email is dead” and “meetings are a waste of time.” These two statements are usually followed by the rattle of a skateboard and the zip of a courier bag handcrafted in Frisco.

Well, perhaps not. But the point is this: meetings (like email) get a seriously bad rap inside big companies. The consensus position seems to be that if the meetings (and the email) would just get out of the way, we could all get on with our real work (and I’m reminded of a former boss who told me once that he had always believed that if the day-to-day hassles ended he could get on with his job, until he realised the day-to-day hassles were his job).

Meetings and email can, of course, be annoying. But then so can desktops that take ages to start up, desk phones with stupid interfaces, colleagues with bad music tastes and lossy headphones etc. etc. The thing is, if you’re in a certain frame of mind or doing a certain kind of activity, pretty much any kind of human interaction can be annoying. Coders hate to be interrupted. Writers, too. They’re face-down, high-intensity-and-focus activities. Interruptions are murderous.

But other activities are not like this. Discussing user propositions, for example. Negotiating priorities. Navigating towards consensus on forward planning. Nudging different groups and stakeholders to a common goal. All these things require contact and interaction. And guess what? Nine times out of ten, the best type of interaction is a meeting.

I say this at the end of a day which, this morning, looked like a nightmare. No yellow left in the Outlook, a series of quite edgy-looking meetings and some random-looking stuff in between. And yet I made enormous progress towards worthwhile goals today. I ended the day clearer on budget, clearer on priorities, pleased to have been listened to, and with a big user proposition agreed by major stakeholders. Without meetings, this would have taken weeks.

Similarly email, which I may come back to another day. Suffice to say that without email, most modern corporations would grind to a halt.

Final point. Corporations don’t organise meetings. People organise meetings. If you’ve got a meeting problem, it’s not a meeting problem, it’s a people problem.

Now, off to a meeting, of course.

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Things I learned today

It’s the Vision Forum at the Beeb this week: lots of tasty sessions with super-famous creatives and actors, discussing their work and generally adding to an atmosphere of grooviness. I went to three sessions today, on Being Human, The Cut and Psychoville. Among the things I learned:

  1. Being Human was originally conceived as a drama about university graduates living together. One was an agoraphobic, one was compulsively anti-social with rage issues, and one was a recovering sex addict. The monsters were added later: ghost trapped in house, werewolf, and guilty vampire. Neat, no?
  2. The Cut is written in five minute chunks to create a 25-minute TV broadcast once a week. It’s really good. What I learned from this one is how creative production crews are being when it comes to shooting stuff on low budgets. The Cut is all filmed within five minutes of the offices of BBC Switch, the assistant director is also a writer, and the script supervisor also works on the Switch website. Also, the teenage stars looked embarrassed and blushingly young all the way through the presentation, until the moment the microphone was passed to them and they switched, immediately, until professional mode. It was amazing and rather charming.
  3. When Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith started Psychoville, they had no idea when it would end. Also, while they were pushing to get it commissioned, they arranged an open readthrough/performance at Notting Hill which attracted an audience in three figures and which showed that the material was funny (the audience laughed) as well as horrific. And Psychoville is what they call Royston Vasey in Japan. Fact.

I would like to explain the gratuitous picture of Lenora Crichlow, who is beautiful in Being Human but mesmerising in the flesh. Not really a lesson, but interesting nonetheless.


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Does anyone still have a pen pal?

I’m wondering: does anyone have pen pals anymore? The thought occurred to me when my mate Al in Australia posted some shots on Flickr of him and his family swimming with whales earlier today. The photos are amazing, but what’s more amazing is that I could see them, on the other side of the world, within hours of him posting them.

Sort of negates the need for pen pals, doesn’t it, this instantaneous worldwide communications platform we’re all playing with?

Well, not entirely. There are pen pal sites out there. Penpalworld.com has 650,000 members and 493 online right now, although at least three of the last eight are women with pouts and pointy breasts, so I think we can guess what kind of site this is.

Similarly, Penpal.net (WE HAVE OVER 1 MILLION PENPALS!) certainly seems to be more about young people jumping on each others backs than it is about innocent girl guides writing to friendly cub scouts in continental Europe. So has the Web killed the innocence of pen-palling? I had great hopes for Maarten’s Snail Mail Pen Pals Online, which is hosted on Tripod (is that still going?) and offers a very specific-sounding 1,950 pen pals from more than 95 countries.

It all sounds very innocent:

I am a young man. I am single (never married), Christian. I am looking for nice female and male pen pals for good friendship, between 18 and 30 years from Europe, U.S.A, Canada, Australia, and Brazil.

Or this:

Hobbies and Interests: photography, hiking, travels, sports, postcards, new cultures.
I’m a man and I was born July 7, 1981
I am looking for nice female and male friends, who loving naturism, sea, and beaches. Write me, please!

Oh hang on. Did he say naturism? Or this:

Interests: I like fitness, basketball, tennis, soccer, hiking, traveling, to visit nice places and to make new friendships. I’m 26 years old man. I’m tall, 6’2″ (1.87m) and 160 lbs (75 kg), brown hair. I am looking for young men and women from all over the world, especially from Europe and America between 18 and 35 years old. I am looking also friends, who love naturism from….

Ah. I think I’m detecting a pattern here. Back to the drawing board…


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The Bad Good Schools Guide

My regular reader will know my strong, irrational and profoundly hypocritical views on private education, because she’s married to me. Others may be on less firm footing, so let’s try and demonstrate by taking a look at something written by Ralph Lucas, editor of The “Good” Schools Guide. His charming prose appears in the latest edition of Living South, which is one of those magazines which pops through your front door and lets you imagine a world where you need stone flooring, a glass-and-steel conservatory, and a new house with a 90 foot garden.

I don’t know Mr Lucas, but his photo is best described as generic overprivileged and somewhat-overfed white man. He is introducing a special supplement feature in Living South, which is essentially a dozen pages of adverts for local schools in my area. Most of these are private schools, as they’re the only ones who need to advertise.

He starts off in a friendly if vaguely disconcerting fashion:

“After, I hope, a relaxing holiday free of academic strees, it’s back to the autumn term and, for me at least, thoughts turning to ‘which school next?’”

What is this “academic stress” he speaks of? Is is stress which is caused by studying? Or stress which is made pointless by external events? And what does he mean by ‘which school next’? Is he planning some kind of bombing?

No, of course he’s not. He’s talking about choosing the next school for your loved ones. As he says:

“You need to give yourself a good, long run up – three years seems ideal to me – to dig out parents to chat to, read prospectuses, take advice, visit and discuss, and all in good time to make the grade for entrance: whether this means tutoring or moving home.”

I had to read that sentence a few times to let the full middle-class existential horror of it wash over me. Yes, folks, if you haven’t worried about your child’s next school for a good three years, you’re not working hard enough. And what’s this about “making the grade”? Tutoring is presumably about improving your useless offspring to the level required by these awesome seats of learning. But moving home? Does that mean moving out of an area if you’re not good enough for it? Or vice versa?

“Most London senior schools are ridiculously selective. The cause of this is the shortage of independent secondary schools in central London, caused in turn by the shortage of good state secondary schools: not something that shows signs of being speedily remedied.”

Ah, Mr Lucas is on firmer ground now. This is recognisably Daily Mail territory. Not only is state education, ipso facto, shit, but its essential shitness is also dragging down the fine purveyors of private education. And with a sweep of his Mont Blanc, Mr Lucas writes off the thousands of men and women who remain dedicated to state education in London. Nice going, Mr Lucas.

So Mr Lucas recommends looking further afield, to something he calls “country schools”. Not, as you might think, named for the kind of people they grow on the trees in these schools (think about it), but for their essential Non-Londonness. The phrase is redolent of cord trousers, restaurants which close at 10pm and an inherent assumption of superiority. Mr Lucas mentions Eton and Wycombe Abbey, and describes such schools as having a “delight in educating the average child and bringing out the best in them.”

Ah, the average child! God bless the average child! Fear not if your child is average, because these charitable institutions, these “country schools”, will take them on. As Mr Lucas says, they will take on the “shy, the dyslexic, the sporty, the theatrical, the entrepreneurial, the rebellious – and still have a shot at getting him or her into Oxbridge if that’s how they turn out.” And all for free! Although I might have got that bit wrong.

God bless Mr Lucas and his kind. With their sage advice and warm humanity, we can share in the common endeavour of educating all children, or equipping the next generation with the social skills, the love of learning and the sense of fellowship which this country needs. For otherwise, what is there? A country where the rich educate their children to a sense of entitlement, of special distinctiveness which marks them out from the common crowd, and where the rich encourage their children to avoid the common herd at all costs and choose private education for their own children when the time comes because all state schools are, axiomatically, completely and utterly shit.

Thanks Mr Lucas! And by the way, the person who build your website obviously went to state school, because it doesn’t work! Stupid state school idiot.

Stupid Good Schools guide

Stupid Good Schools guide

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Web publishing: now officially ridiculously easy

So, as anyone who knows me will tell you, I’m no coder. I’m no designer. I can write a bit. And I can install and configure software, but then so can you if you’ve got pretty much any kind of mobile device. I understand (sort of) FTP and file permissions and basic Unix commands (I mean really basic) and I (sort of) understand how data files on computers morph into web pages on other computers.

And yet somehow this technical illiterate has managed to launch a website for his wife’s primary school with no help whatsoever from anyone who knows what they are doing. It’s WordPress, of course. It’s on its own domain (with 34sp). It’s got accounts for half-a-dozen teachers who can log into it and update it. It’s got a Twitter widget which I’m reliably informed will be actively used. The website’s got all the data about the school: term dates, contact details, newsletters from the head. It costs, all-in, maybe 90 quid for the first year. Including the domain. It looks rather nice too, thanks to a WordPress template by Worldoweb which is somewhat quirky (both visually and – ahem – technically) but which I’ve been able to hack about a bit.

It’s even got an RSS feed, for Christ’s sake.

So tell me: why isn’t everyone doing this? And why do so many school websites look so terribly awfully rubbish?


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Thompson on public space

Mark Thompson gave a punchy and coherent response to both James Murdoch and Ben Bradshaw today. Here was my favourite bit:

Wherever it can be – and certainly in the case of the BBC – public space is free at the point of use. And the more people who use it the better.

Consider the contrast between the availability of music and arts on Sky Arts and on BBC Television. Sky Arts is one of the most positive developments in multi-channel television. It has some brilliant programming. It extends the choice and range of music and arts available on TV. In a typical seven days, it reaches perhaps half a million people.

But arts on the BBC is simply of a different order. To quote just one statistic, this summer more than twelve million people in this country sampled the Proms on BBC Television before the Last Night. I’m not claiming any special credit for that, by the way – the BBC exists in part to make the arts universally available, Sky does not. Private space focuses on the minority who already have a taste for the arts, public space reaches out across the population.

In the case of the BBC, there’s another important characteristic. There’s no demand curve and no exclusion. You can’t buy a better service from the BBC no matter how wealthy you are. And you can’t stop people who are less well off than you enjoying just as good a service as you do.

Public space is shared space.

That’s why we will never erect a pay zone around our news.

That’s why we will fight tooth and nail to preserve our broad public remit – from Strictly to the Poetry Season.

And public space is independent space.

I got that from Mark Thompson speech | Tom Watson MP. And Tom applauds Thompson for coming out fighting. Having spent the last two days with young people who passionately believe in the BBC and passionately disagree with James Murdoch, I’m coming round to the idea that a good fight is maybe what we all need.

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The Generation Gap is alive and well

I spent the last two days on the BBC’s very good induction course (learning new respect for the skills of shooting video and recording audio, among other things). There were about 80 people on the course, three-quarters of whom were in their 20s.

We did the normal things older media people do when they meet younger people (what do you watch? is it really true you just play games and shag? why do your trousers not fit?), but we older types were really feeding vampirically off the enormous energy and enthusiasm of these younger people. They were up for anything, massively pleased to be at the BBC, and astoundingly creative and committed to producing good stuff. If someone wanted to try “just another shot”, you can bet it was someone born under Thatcher.

Without wanting to sound wide-eyed and reckless, it really was a pleasure. While the media is controlled by white male fortysomethings, young people will always be either ignored, patronised or criticised. But these particular young people were too cheerful and too clever to care.

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Candles and throw cushions

I have very little of interest to say today, so this just to point out that the QI fact of the day today is that 96% of the candles bought in America are bought by women. The other 4% are bought by men running errands for women (I made that one up). Also, all throw cushions and throw rugs are bought by women (I made that one up, too). And scart leads are always bought by men.

Tea Candles

The nice photo is by DOS82. You can find him on Flickr.

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When Google’s scale means only Google can do it

This morning’s Google News is that they’re preparing a micropayments system for online publishers. Actually, it’s a payment system that’s going to be used to take cash from users in return for granting access to various online publications (read URLs, presumably), and most people who know what they’re talking about know that subscriptions is a better model than micropayments, so this is in fact a subscriptions system that can do micropayments. But just as newspaper journalists say “Twitter” when they mean “social media”, online commentators say “micropayments” when they mean “The End of Free.” ‘Twas ever thus.

Anyway, the thing that struck me about this story is that, technically, anyone could have done this at any time in the last decade. eMeta had a technology that did exactly this and which is still in use in some places (it did power 4oD’s payments system, for example, before the archive was opened up and went free).

So this isn’t a technology story – it’s a reach story. What will make this work, if it does work, is Google’s scale. The newspaper industry is never going to get itself together to build something cooperatively. The laughable idea that the British government might do it is barely worthy of a mention but is definitely worth a chuckle.

No, the only way a system like this might work is if it’s put in front of enough users all at once in something like a coherent, planned way. And, I would argue, only Google can do this. Maybe Facebook, one day, but Facebook’s never going to be about monetising attention flow the way Google does.

So, what does this suggest as to the health of the online competitive space, when a key revenue platform which could underpin the future of online publishing might rely on the business planning of a single corporate entity? A while ago, we were all pretty exercised by the idea that Microsoft might control DRM and thus be the gatekeeper to the world’s digital content. That didn’t happen, perhaps thanks to a combination of YouTube, Apple, the MP3 format and self-publishing. But if, in this disaggregated world, only one company can operate at commercial scale, we’ve got a bit of a problem, have we not?


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Join in our experiment

One of the projects that’s most excited me at the BBC is Lab-UK. Essentially, it’s a platform for doing mass-audience experiments which are scientifically valid (there’s other cool stuff going on under the hood, but that’s what we’re doing with it right now). Our latest mass-participation experiment is Brain Test Britain, which seeks to find out if “brain training” actually works, by getting people to play brain training games online and tracking their progress over time.

This is hugely ambitious, not least because we’re trying to get thousands of users to stay with a longitudinal experiment. But the designers of the experiment (Professor Clive Ballard of the Alzheimer’s Society and Kings College, London, and Dr Adrian Owen of the MRC Cognition and Brain Sciences Unit, Cambridge) hope that by getting thousands of people to complete the experiments, we can get proper scientific papers and proper scientific understanding.

There are more Lab-UK experiments in the pipeline. Suffice to say that what with this and our Earth suite of products (Earth News, the just-redesigned Out of the Wild and Nature’s Library) there’s some fantastically cool stuff going on here. And none of it could happen anywhere else.


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Chav: the insult platform

If I say “chav” to people of my own age, I can pretty much rely on the same image popping into their brain as pops into mine, an amalgam of tracksuits, cheap jewellery, Burberry, and kebabs, with just a hint of Rimmel. Chavs to me are essentially white, poor and badly-dressed.

But say “chav” to my son, and he sees something else. He essentially sees a young black man in a hooded sweatshirt whose most defining characteristic is his affected gangster-style of talk. He is in-your-face, aggressive and ridiculous.

What is doubly odd about this is that my son goes to school in Croydon, where the eponymous facelift is pretty much a staple of the female chav. At least in my definition. But he just doesn’t see it.

My theory on this is that chav is now an insult platform. Like a good API, it is endlessly reusable. It is the developer network of insults. This is apparent in the Wikipedia attempt to define the word:

The word may have its origins in Romani language.12 One suggested etymology for “chav” is that it derives from the Romani word chavo, meaning boy (cf. “yob” – a reversal of boy).34 This is similar to the colloquial Spanish word chaval and “Chavo”, meaning “Kid” or “guy” which again is usually free from negative connotation. The Romani chavo appears to have transferred to the Nonantum, Massachusetts dialect as “chabby”, though without the negative connotations of “chavo”. The Kentish dialect used to refer to children as “Chaveys”. 5 An alternative etymology suggests that pupils atCheltenham Ladies’ College and Cheltenham College used the word to describe the young men of the town (“Cheltenham Average”).67

Any word that can be traced to Romani, Spanish, Italian-American dialect, Kentish and Cheltenham Ladies College has to be admired for its flexibility. Truly, it is the Unix of personal contempt.

Picture courtesy of chav-bling-bling on Flickr. There’s some great picture groups on there, like.


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Complicated thing, England

I spent the first Saturday night after Keith Waterhouse died in the National Theatre watching a play by Hanif Kureishi. I hadn’t previously strung these two men together, but in both cases I find my preconceptions about them were rather askew.

Waterhouse, for me, was locked inside the Daily Mail, an avuncular but grumpy old man glimpsed only on visits to grandparents when the only newspaper available was the Mail. He always seemed a rather prejudiced throwback to an era when white men with typewriters were masters of their domain, now forced to grumble randomly about declining standards, Tony Bloody Blair and misplaced apostrophes.

Kureishi, on the other hand, I’d always taken to be a bit of a fraud, someone who’d made very little go a long way, who’d parlayed a rather slight little story (My Beautiful Laundrette) into a rather slight and often pretentious career.

Well, wrong and wrong. I forced myself to read Waterhouse’s recent columns on the Daily Mail website, and found them to be a lot larger-hearted than I remembered, even at the fag-end of a nicotine-stained career. His description of Gordon Brown as “tin-eared” is as accurate a political epithet as you could hope for.

And the production of Kureishi’s play The Black Album (based on his novel, a slight thing which I hadn’t read) was rather wonderful. Put on by Tara Arts, its first half was just about good enough to make you come back after the interval, but its second half was pacy and clever. Set in 1989, it’s the story of a young Muslim man with a penchant for writing and books who’s tempted by the stirring of Islamist fundamentalism sparked by the Rushdie fatwa, but who rejects it in favour of free speech and free love with his lecturer. Now Kureishi’s told this story several times before, but the interplay of the cynical sister-in-law who’s a friend of Benazhir Bhutto with the equally cynical fundamentalist muppet from the mosque was fantastically written, very funny and terribly poignant given where Pakistan now finds itself.

What links Kureishi and Waterhouse, I think, is their love of a good joke. Nothing in their world is so serious or awful that it can’t be ameliorated with a spot of wordplay. Their prejudices and pretensions are obvious and frequent, but both of them have an impatience with cliche and a (dare I say it?) rather English sense that there is something rather wrong with people who can’t see the funny side.


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Back in the saddle

I’ve been very much enjoying Russell’s posts on commencing blogging again, and the re-emergence of web-publishing in an old-school stylee in the wake of Steve Gillmor’s farcical claim that RSS is dead (presumably it took three months for anyone to notice this post because they were following it in an RSS reader instead of twitter). Also nice to see Simon starting to use his blog as the external brain for his book, and to see Tom Watson enjoying his new found post-ministerial freedom to start making some punchy and profound pronouncements.

So, although one is nowhere near in the same league as those guys, the value of blogging is being demonstrated once more. And I found the best description of a blog on David Hepworth’s blog: he describes it as “a bunch of thoughts that won’t go anywhere else.” Lovely.

So here we go again…


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