Stories to surprise you over your morning toast

There is nothing quite like an odd news story as a morning tonic. And as you stare down in disbelief at the latest report of a UFO landing in the fold-yard of a farm in Norfolk, it is well worth remembering that this is the month of August and about now things tend to get a little silly.

Just like complaining about the weather, tinkering in the garden and getting excited about DIY, the silly season is a well-worn British staple. Arriving each summer during the fallow summer months for news, Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable defines the period as, ‘the part of the year when Parliament and the Law Courts are not sitting.’

This dearth of activity leaves newspapers scrambling about for news stories. Funded by advertising revenue and horrified at the prospect of slimming down over the summer or displaying too much white space, news editors instigate searches for bizarre, sensational or panic-inducing stories that will see them through until the machinery of society starts to whir once again in September.

2005 was a particularly rich year for silly season stories: ‘Victor Meldrew found in space’ announced the Sun on 9^th August having located a constellation that when charted with a line vaguely resembled a cantankerous UK television character. Meanwhile the Daily Express were busy reporting on Tony Blair’s holiday to Barbados where he was recovering from the effects of sunburn which had hit his ‘chest, stomach and arms.’

On 2^nd August 2000, The Star slapped down a headline documenting that an angler was ‘speared’ through the stomach by a giant swordfish which jumped into his boat. The following day The Express published a story about 30 hopefuls who had answered an advert in the Job Centre, applying to be a knifethrower’s assistant for a salary of £240 a week.

It is not just the UK which celebrates this silly season; it is a prominent in any country that boasts a strong national press. The Germans, who are not renowned for their sense of humour, are one nation that commemorates the silly season with the far more frivolous name of ‘cucumber time’, which seems a far more apt name – because vegetables are always funny, aren’t they?

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Have you come across any odd stories during the past few weeks? If you have, then why not send them over to us at Select Digital where we can try and compile a list of 2008’s top Silly Season stories. Remember that you can keep in touch with all of the latest news developments on Sky, BBC and ITV by subscribing to digital television. Find out about the best online prices by clicking this link.

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Welcome to Friday’s Video of the Day!

In a new little section to the Select Digital blog, I thought I’d add a ‘Friday Video.’ Half in celebration of the end of the working week and half in anticipation of two days of leisure ahead – hopefully these short videos will help to put you in the right frame of mind.

I am sure that like most people you have been caught behind the clock for an important appointment, in this first Friday Video you can ponder over a number of different solutions to the problem. Enjoy!

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They think it’s all over… but it’s going to start again!

In anticipation of the beginning of another frantic Barclays Premiership season, we have put our collective football knowledge together and have assembled a list of predictions. With somewhere in the region of £270m having been spent by Premier League clubs, there is the guarantee of new faces amongst the old and the usual questions linger as to whether Chelsea can wretch the title back from Manchester United and whether any of the promoted teams has what it takes to survive amongst the big boys.

Players to watch:

Nani (Manchester United):

Whilst Cristiano Ronaldo has been perfectly seduced by Ramón Calderón and spent the summer prancing around Los Angeles in tight silver shorts and a pink t-shirt, most Manchester United fans have been reassuring themselves that if he did go his fellow countryman Nani is a more than capable replacement. Quick, with a powerful shot and a magician’s bag of tricks, this could be Nani’s real breakthrough season.

Robbie Keane (Liverpool)

It was one of football’s wonderful moments of hypocrisy when Daniel Levy, the man who spent last autumn poaching Juande Ramos from Sevilla, threatened Liverpool with disciplinary action for their unethical pursuit of Desperate-Dan lookalike, Robbie Keane. Nevertheless Rafa Benitez got his man and Keane signed for the club he supported as a lad. Free scoring and full of air-punching, cartwheel celebrations, his partnership with Fernando Torres promises to be a dangerous one.

Theo Walcott (Arsenal)

Two years after Sven Goran Erikson saw him as the solution to a shortage of forwards prior to the 2006 World Cup, Theo Walcott has not made the progress that some would have expected of him. As a result, the forthcoming season has to be the one when Arsenal’s razor quick forward pushes on. Mr Wenger will be expecting good performances from a player he confidently invested £12m in at the tender age of just 16.

Luka Modric (Tottenham)

The rising star of the Croatian national football team is described by many as a ‘gem.’ Modric offers Tottenham yet another attacking option and can play in a variety of positions across the midfield and also in the ‘hole’ behind the strike force of Darren Bent and Dimitar Berbatov. An undoubted talent who promises to showcase the same breed of diminutive skill that Juninho served up for Middlesbrough fans during the 1990s.

Samir Nasri (Arsenal)

It takes something rather special to prompt the mercurial Frenchman Arsene Wenger to part with the best part of £15m –and many suggest that Nasri, who has been dubbed the new ‘Zidane’, is just that. He failed to impress during the appalling French campaign at the European Championships, but his form for his former club Marseilles has been imperious and consistent. He promises to fit seamlessly into an Arsenal team that is committed to a elegant style of ‘sexy football.’

Jô (Manchester City)

Brazilian football players don’t usually come via Russia, and for that reason alone Manchester City’s £18m purchase Jô is noteworthy of attention. The young Brazilian has already won a cap for his country, notched up an impressive brace against Inter Milan and turned down a potentially lucrative transfer to Valencia. Brazilians are much more often found on the red side of Manchester, and Jô will be hoping to give the sky-blues something to cheer about

Heurelho Gomes (Tottenham)

People don’t usually come as tall as Peter Crouch, but Tottenham’s Brazilian international goalkeeper certainly does. Fresh from a successful spell at PSV, Spurs will be hoping that Gomes will offer some stability between the posts after the departure of an accident-prone Paul Robinson. At 6”7 he comes at a price of £88,000 per inch and Tottenham are going to hope that it is money well spent.

Steve Sidwell (Aston Villa)

After a year collecting his wages at Chelsea, Steve Sidwell once again has the prospect of first-team football in front of him after joining Aston Villa for a price of £5m. He joins a admirable list of red headed players to pull on the claret and blue shirt, following Tommy Johnson, Kevin Richardson, Phil King, Graham Fenton, Steve Staunton and Steve Davis.

Peter Crouch (Portsmouth)

Harry Redknapp has a ‘Dell Boy’ reputation of dabbling in the transfer market to various levels of success, but in snapping up beanpole striker Peter Crouch, he could have just landed an ace. Coupled with Jermaine Defoe, Crouch will provide the large half of a little and large striking partnership. Liverpool fans will be lamenting his loss, just as Portsmouth fans are preparing themselves for the prospect of some long ball football.

Prediction at the top:

Manchester United to cling on, but Ferguson will have to spit a few sparks at Scolari along the way. Chelsea to finish a close second.

Prediction at the bottom:

Take your pick of one from Hull, Stoke, West Brom, Bolton and Middlesbrough.

Dark Horses:

Sunderland under Roy Keane have been improving steadily, if their signings come off Tottenham should be a force to reckon with.

First manager for the chop:

Gary Megson of Bolton is the favourite, but it could go all wrong for Gareth Southgate up on Teesside quite easily too.

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Some of the finest moments of all time

Following on from the extended article about cricket yesterday, I thought that the time was apt to choose a selection of videos documenting memorable moments in the history of the game.

What would you nominate as your favourite cricket moment? Feel free to make any of your own recommendations and in the meantime enjoy the remainder of the English cricketing summer.

1. The best catch ever? – Paul Collingwood:

2. The infamous Australian ‘urderarm’ incident against New Zealand:

3. The Australian crowd join in with Ronnie Irani’s warming up routine:

4. Pakistan’s electric batsman, Shahid Afridi, scores 77 runs off just 35 balls:

5. Alan Donald serves up one of the most ferocious periods of fast bowling in recent memory to the ex-England captain Michael Atherton:

6. Six sixes in one over from Sir Garfield Sobers:

7. India’s Sacin Tendulkar hits the shot of his life against Andrew Caddick:

8. Andrew Flintoff has some words of advice for the West Indian Dwayne Bravo:

9. Curtly Ambrose offers a devastating spell of bowling to record seven wickets for one run:

10. Shane Warne’s ball of the century leaves Mike Gatting bemused:

Remember that Sky digital television offers customers with the very best opportunity to enjoy all of the action from the world of international cricket. You can find out more about the sporting events broadcast on digital television by following this link.

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The advent of Pietersen signals a change in English cricketing values

My mother has always maintained that the English cricket team needs to include at least one Yorkshireman if it hopes to win anything at all. The land of Boycott, Illingworth and Truman binds together notions of grit, determination and stoicism; it forms the backbone of our national identity and in many ways is as much to England what Andalucía is to Spain.

If it wasn’t before obvious, my mother was born and raised in a village on the Yorkshire coast where things are about as ‘English’ as they could possibly be. A Union Jack flaps away on a white flag pole on the village green, there is a flint church flanked by a yew tree and the population of farmers and traders are fuelled with a rude diet of jacket potatoes, Yorkshire puddings and steak and kidney pies.

In this culture, cricket is of paramount importance. The best (and flattest) part of the village is tended carefully each summer day by a groundsman, the most comfortable corner of the local pub is held in reserve for team members, the 19 year old whippersnapper of a fast bowler can have his pick of the farmers’ daughters and a solid forward defensive is regarded with almost as much reverence as a cleanly executed off drive.

It is places such as these, in the far reaches of Queen Bess’ realm, which would have received the news of Michael Vaughn’s resignation as captain of the English cricket team and the subsequent appointment of Kevin Pietersen with more than the odd jitter.

Vaughn was a paragon of Englishness: polite, patient, cool under pressure, equally able to cajole and nudge his star players into stellar performances and to chat cordially with journalists. His displays of emotion were rare, and usually limited to Henmanesque fist-clenching whilst batting and applause from the players’ balcony.

In contrast, Pietersen is Vaughn’s antithesis. Brash, single-minded, belligerent and oozing self-confidence, Pietersen who was born and bred in South Africa displays a confidence and swagger that are not often present amongst the English. Andrew Strauss, his teammate, once said that ‘Kevin’s particular brand of self confidence seems un-English.’

Making his debut at Lords in the first match of the Ashes series in 2005, he proceeded to despatch Shane Warne for six over deep midwicket on his way to a maiden half-century. Four matches later he turned the knife upon the imperious Glenn McGrath at the Oval, peppering his bowling with a series of blows of which Joe DiMaggio would have been proud and ending on 158 as England won the Ashes for the first time in almost 20 years.

Three years on and Pietersen is the only English batsman to feature in the top ten of the ICC World Rankings and he has scored 3777 test match runs at an impressive average of 50.36. Statistically, this puts far him ahead of Gower, Atherton, Stewart, Thorpe and Vaughn and justifies his inclusion as the first name on the English team sheet.

But he has not escaped criticism. Only last Friday after attempting to reach a 14th test match century with a six, he was caught on the long off boundary, prompting Alec Stewart to suggest that he should be ‘disgusted’ with himself. Geoffrey Boycott added scathingly that ‘if I’d played that shot, I’d have wanted to bury myself right there and then.’

Whilst some feel uneasy at Pietersen’s aggressive approach on the cricket field, then there are others who must feel uncomfortable as to his behaviour off it. In 2004, a former captain, Jason Gallian, was so enraged by Pietersen’s cocky behaviour that he felt compelled to launch his kit bag off the Nottinghamshire dressing room balcony. Another foe is his old rival, the South African captain Graeme Smith. Deciding to leave South Africa in protest at the quota system to play his cricket in England, Pietersen forged a mutual dislike between the two: ‘I’m patriotic about my country, and that’s why I don’t like Kevin Pietersen,’ Smith stated in 2006.

Then there are the magazine covers, the tattoos, that infamous skunk hairstyle and his jumping jack celebrations along the wicket. There was even a cringe-worthy kiss-and-tell with an ex lover who claimed that he made her chant his name whilst they were in bed. All in all, Kevin Pietersen is certainly a character that doesn’t come quietly.

But the appointment of Pietersen might be a sign of the times, and the seasoned observer will have noticed that the game of cricket has received a drastic facelift in the past two years. We now have 20:20, Super 40 and ‘winner takes all’ matches for $20M. Television money has arrived, so have lucrative sponsorship deals and cricket players are now highly trained professional athletes with meaningful professional contracts. Gone are the days of handlebar moustaches, beer guzzlers and bacon sandwiches for tea, cricket has reached a new era.

Whilst people in Yorkshire and other such corners of Old England might feel a pang of trepidation, the appointment of Pietersen as England captain is a bold forward move by the ECB. He is innovative in his batting, his self image and his approach to sport – and whilst my mother and her clan in Yorkshire may remain sceptical, I think that for English cricket a bright future looms large.

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We’re all going on a summer holiday

Most of you will be struggling to get the zip around your suitcase about now, scurrying excitedly around the house throwing in last-minute items and with the prospect of sandy beaches, exotic cuisine, bronzed bodies and two weeks away from the boss bouncing around your head. And, as you lug your 20kgs into the boot of your Mondeo, then I deplore you to spare a though for poor old Gordon Brown.

After trundling along with little incident for more than a decade, the wheels have finally flown off the New Labour movement quiet spectacularly. It all started about this time last year with a series of plagues of Biblical proportions. Firstly, unprecedented rainfall led to Gloucestershire, Oxfordshire and parts of Yorkshire disappearing under water and shortly after foot and mouth disease ripped across the south of England causing a wave of panic in the farming industry and redoubling the French’s intention never to buy British meat.

Cutting short his family holiday in Dorset, Brown charged back to London to chair a series of reactive meetings, popping up hourly on national news bulletins and resembling Corporal Jones from Dad’s Army, by imploring people ‘Don’t panic!’ However, those of us who suspected that a procession of black cats must have passed in front of Brown as he passed under a ladder were given more evidence of his misfortune in the autumn.

He failed to dismiss the possibility of calling a general election in October, before wobbling approval ratings in national opinion polls seemingly got the better of him. He decided, wrongly, to leave the matter to rest for a little while. ‘Bottler Brown,’ bellowed the press, miserable at being denied the jump in sales that is usually excited by an election. The reaction of David Cameron, Conservative leader and Oxford University port-drinking specialist, if anything was worse, as he taunted the Prime Minister over the despatch box:

‘I tell you what, if you’ve got some questions about our policy, find a bit of courage, discover a bit of bottle, get in your car, go down to Buckingham Palace and call that election,’ he demanded at Prime Minister’s Questions, whilst Gordon Brown glared at him, seemingly caught in a fit of combustible anger and chewing on some recently invented gum.

It didn’t get any better. The following month, 25 million people’s personal information was lost in the post when a minor employee thought it wise to copy the data of child benefits claimants to a CD and pop it in the internal post. Meanwhile the global economy began to resemble something like a Welsh mudslide.

Add to this the April tax revolt by Labour back-bench MPs, who were dismayed at Labour inverting the Robin Hood principles and taxing the poor to give to the rich and the fact that a 42 day detention bill scraped through the House of Commons last month, and you can surmise that the past year has been an increasingly difficult one for Brown.

In the meantime, they have lost the seats of Crewe and Nantwich to the Conservatives (with Edward Timpson the new MP increasing his share of the vote by 16.9%) and Glasgow East which had been a Labour-controlled constituency since Noah’s Arch ran aground.

Now Mr Brown is taking his wife on a British ‘Bucket and Spade,’ holiday. Due to the emergence of last year’s floods, it will be the first substantial holiday that Mr Brown has enjoyed since he became Prime Minister. So, as he heads off to Southwold in Suffolk and later on to the Scottish coast, remember that however tiresome your tasks at work may be, Mr Brown can trump you in one.

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The seven essential ingredients

As musical styles fuse and merge and hybrid genres emerge, it can become ever more difficult to draw out the common elements of a perfect song. But, like brewing the perfect pint, manufacturing an irresistible sports car or brewing the perfect pot of tea, writing a flawless rock song requires the presence of a number of essential ingredients. If I am going to be precise, then you require the presence of seven vital components.

Firstly and indisputably, you need to have at least one electric guitar, one electric bass guitar, a set of drums and a vocalist. You can argue at length on the specific equipment required (Gibson vs. Fender guitars, Marshall amps?), but it is clear that you will at least need to be plugged in to a power source, the sound has to be amplified and the vocalist needs to be behind a microphone. Some left-field thinking would suggest that keyboards are also an essential element, I’d disagree. Although the keyboard can augment the sound and add to the melody, it is hardly ‘essential’ and is better considered as ‘optional.’ A little like adding sugar to tea perhaps.

Secondly you need a riff. If this appears as technical jargon to some, then it is better explained as a repetitive sequence of single notes played on a guitar (and/or the bass). Just think of Heartbreaker by Led Zeppelin, Day Tripper by The Beatles or Walk this Way by Aerosmith. The wandering bass riff from the White Stripes Seven Nation Army is one that has become popular in the last few years and has been oddly adopted by Italian football fans, another is the echoing sea-saw riff featured at the start of The Raconteur’s Level.

Thirdly is the need for a big chorus, a towering crescendo to follow the whimsical verses. Perhaps you could nominate Meatloaf’s Like a Bat Out of Hell as an example of an imperious chorus, or Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA. Oddly, here the meaning of the lyrics takes second place in importance to the general sound and impact. Some of the biggest choruses in history have been filled with trite lyrics (think of Coldplay’s Speed of Sound), but work due to power of their delivery. If you get the chorus wrong though, the whole song may as well be assigned to the rubbish heap.

Fourthly, a good simple melody is essential for the chorus and verses, usually alternating between the two. This is usually when the hidden success of a song lies. If you have a gift for brain-sapping melodies like Kurt Cobain or John Lennon, then the rest usually falls neatly into place. Just watch a copy of Klaxons Golden Skans if you are looking for an example of an irresistible melody.

Fifthly is a guitar solo. This can come in various guises, from the Slash-from-Guns-and-Roses approach which sees a flurry of pentatonic notes, to something more minimal as found with John Frusciante’s efforts on The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Give it Away which is little more than a fuzzy collection of single notes. This is the part of the song where the musicians and their music are at their narcissistic best, throwing their heads, bodies and instruments around in defiance of Isaac Newton.

Sixthly is the mastery of the loud/quiet aesthetic: a quiet musing verse is followed by a ravenous grandmother-gobbling chorus full of fizz and fuzz. Nirvana were the band that brought this technique into prominence during the early 1990s with their song Smells Like Teen Spirit, and it has been repeated to rippling success by bands ever since. Just think of The Raconteurs and Steady as She Goes or Blur’s Song 2. Of course Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix and company managed without it in the sixties and seventies, but in the early twenty first century, it has become an fundamental part of the mix.

Finally, dream up some repetitive lyrics. This is rock music: it is supposed to be brash, bold and capable of bashing you on the head with a bottle of lager, it is not whimsical or musing. That is much better left to the Elliott Smith’s, Bob Dylan’s and Nick Drake’s of our times. The listener needs something that is going to grab them by the earlobes and drag them over to the speaker. It doesn’t matter if the lyrics are as emotionally deep as a puddle, or if they go ‘WooHoo’ (ask Blur), the most important thing is that they bore their way into the skull and stay there for good.

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Shall God not search this out?

Camped upon a sun-soaked beach and hidden under a parasol, most people will find for the first time this year that they are free to indulge in a book. So where should you start? Well, the publishing industry is churning away trying to serve up a replacement for Harry Potter, whose fate was finally decided last summer and, looking around, there is certainly plenty to choose from.

Last week The Suspicions of Mr Whicher: or the Murder at Road Hill House was awarded the Samuel Johnson Prize; and if you are looking for beautifully conceived and written piece of non-fiction, then this book could be perfect for your holidays.

Kate Summerscale’s book revisits the story of a brutal murder, committed in a quiet English village during the height of the summer of 1860. It was a graphic, cold blooded deed that sent waves of shock across an appalled Victorian society. Those that fell under suspicion were the family and the servants of the victim – for they, as Detective Inspector Jonathan Whicher of Scotland Yard supposed, were the only ones with the means to commit the foul deed.

Summerscale’s book is a wonderful evocation of a rich period of British history. The rise of a national police force and a growing interest of criminal motivations and psyche accompanied the case which in turn sparked a wave of detective fever. Those influenced by the case included the novelist Charles Dickens and it proved a catalyst for the development of detective fiction, or which Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes is the most famous.

Your summer holidays could provide you with the perfect opportunity to play detective yourself. Are the suspicions of Mr Whicher correct? Who was capable of committing such a gruesome murder as the one that was found at Road Hill House? Summerscale unravels the plot with rare talent and a beautiful eye for dialogue, drawing the reader into the story with cloaked clues and revealing anecdotes. Harry Potter may have gone, but with The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, you can comfort yourself in another improbable but darkly seductive tale.

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