Please delete me…

Before the world of e-mail, the delete key was a poor cousin of the backspace key. Yes, it was useful when you had written a sentence before another sentence that wasn’t quite as good, but otherwise it was about as worthwhile as June Sarpong in a homeopathic chemists.

But the advent of Microsoft Outlook means that delete is one of the most useful keys on the board. If your job is anything like mine, you will spend at least a quarter of your day hammering away on the delete button in an attempt to stave off the robotic hand of the system administrator. So how long will it be before evolution, or keyboard designers, develop a board that looks more like this?

Fear and loathing of Johnny Vegas

Who could dislike Johnny Vegas? He might have starred in one of the worst British films ever made, hosted a pisspoor chat show and generally made a career from being drunk and mouthy, but he’s funny. Funny and self-deprecating. It’s a powerful combination.

But when you’ve just come home from a radio recording in which he has led a room of hundreds in laughing at you, reaping applause like a schoolyard bully in a circle of children shouting “fight, fight, fight”, you get a different perspective. He was merciless. Fed by the adulation, he took the piss until the bladder ran dry.

Don’t get me wrong. I was fair game. I was on the show to pitch an idea for him and his co-host to judge. If you put yourself up for a public event like that you’ve got to take the gags with good heart. So I laughed along. But the only people I’ve seen have a rougher ride from comics are hecklers, and I like to think they deserve it more.

Worst of all, I used to like Johnny Vegas. I thought a fair amount of his stuff was crap, but he appeared to be a decent, honest bloke. Now I suspect that is just an endearing facade. He’s still funny, but, like Mark Lamarr and Phill Jupitus, he’s got a cruel streak that makes you wonder if he isn’t, fundamentally, a bit of a shit.

Papal bull

Seen in The Times, May 8, 2006:
“Pope Benedict XVI denounced careerism in the priesthood, which he defined as ‘an attempt to get to the top, to procure oneself a position through the Church, in order to serve oneself, not to serve [others]’.”