Here we are at the two hundredth anniversary of Charles Darwin’s birth and the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of his seminal work ‘On The Origin of Species‘ and if, in the darkness of night, there are scrabbling and shuffling noises to be heard echoing around Westminster Abbey then that will be him, turning in his grave, struggling to get out so he can shout out something politically incorrect.

I recall Darwin did not much like the term ’survival of the fittest’ which is – let’s face it – a bit of a ‘News of the World‘ type spin on his preferred term ‘natural selection’ but if he did manage to claw his way out of his grave, clambering over Isaac Newton on his way out, then it might well be his term of choice.

What he should notice, after a little bit of research and good old fashioned observation, is that evolution – in terms of the homo sapien anyway – has quite possibly started to go backwards.

Call it what you like, evolution has rolled along nicely and undisturbed for many millions of years doing it’s thing. A little change here, a small improvement there. Wings for that one. Opposable thumbs for this one. Binocular vision over here. Improved sense of smell for the one with the long nose. And it will continue to roll along as well. We can’t actually stop it and nor should we. But we can make the huge mistake of messing with it. And when people discover they can do something there is always some bozo who goes ahead and does it.

And one of the bozos in this case is the one who came up with the idea of the Health and Safety Executive – a body whose sole aims are to remove all of the fun and the risk out of life. Natural Selection doesn’t mean people born with disease or disability are left to die before they can reproduce although let’s be totally honest here and recognise that this was once the case and still is outside of us humans. Natural Selection means that the idiot who doesn’t use a ladder properly, falls off and dies is removed from the gene pool to the betterment of us all. These days he probably can’t even buy the ladder in the first place without a three week training course and an NVQ in ladder usage. And should he borrow a ladder from someone else the H&S men will slap a fine on him and send him for corrective therapy.

Evolution basically works by promoting the good bits, the clever bits, the enhanced bits and letting the bad bits and the useless bits fall by the wayside. And the ones who have got those good bits get to pass them on like a family heirloom. And those with the bad bits fall off ladders. But other bozos, including those who came up with the life-stifling theory of Political Correctness, have decreed that we all have to be equal. Or all the same. As I have said many times before, this means we all have to be dumbed down to the lowest common denominator. So those with good bits that are really worthy of evolutions attention have to have those good bits repressed. It’s happening all around us. They get forced to go to Comprehensive Schools. They get turned down for jobs because one of the candidates was clearly more stupid than they were or comes from an ethnic minority and can’t speak the language buy hey – positive discrimination is on their side.

We are in the process of screwing evolution up big time. People survive disease and disability that would have once – and not so long ago – taken them out of the gene pool. Being clever, intelligent and inventive is almost frowned upon. Being competitive is OK as long as you restrict it to buying lottery tickets. And taking risks or having fun is outlawed.

And before we realise it, we’ll all be growing more body hair and starting to suffer from a strong urge to climb trees.

According to MacUser, two separate Apple centres in the USA have refused to carry out repairs on a Mac because the owner is a smoker. Not because they feel that smoking has contributed to whatever has gone wrong but because their technicians consider the machines ‘contaminated’ and a ‘bio-hazard’.

Due to the computer having been used in a house where there was smoking, that has voided the warranty and they refuse to work on the machine, due to ‘health risks of second hand smoke’.

I agree that nicotine residue can be sticky and unpleasant stuff. But second-hand smoke? So much for Apple Care – the expensive, three year warranty agreement you can take out on a new Mac. I can see I wont be doing that next time around.

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When Internet Service Providers and every other organisation connected to web provision told the governments of Europe – including our own – that their ill-thought out plans for tackling music and video piracy wouldn’t and couldn’t work they were duly ignored by people with the technical understanding of a wardrobe. So it comes as no real surprise that ZDNet reports today of the first result of their idiocy. A pub – currently unidentified – has been fined £8000 for illegally downloading unspecified copyrighted material.

Only, of course, it wasn’t the pub at all. All the pub landlord did was offer a free WiFi hotspot to his customers. A nice gesture, thoughtful and generous and a good way of getting a few more customers through the door. Except that one of them abused the privilege. And the IP address used for the download belongs, of course, to the pub.

And that means that people offering hotspots all over the country will, sooner or later, be wondering if it’s really worth it.

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I’ve lost the link now sadly, but a BBC news item a few days back reported that some researchers have decided that letting your kids get dirty – or good, old-fashioned play – is actually, wait for it, good for them! Helps build up the immune systems. Of course, it’s not that long ago that we all knew this anyway and the extra benefit of a childhood not spent in antiseptic isolation was that we were not only healthy and largely allergy-free, but we had fun and learnt to socialise properly because you can only get seriously dirty outside.

Perhaps it should be a question asked of budding Apple technicians: “did you Mum let you play outside and get dirty when you were a kid?” Although, of course, they will probably regard such individuals as a bio-hazard.

The young man in the local 3 shop said “it will just work”.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked. “That’s what T-Mobile said and that never worked”.
And neither did 3. Well – that’s not strictly true. It didn’t work in Washington DC and it didn’t work in Denver or anywhere else in Colorado. Didn’t work anywhere in Utah either. Or Arizona. Or Nevada.

But it DID work in Delaware.

So – when we arrived in Denver I emailed 3 customer support and said “The young man in the local 3 shop said it will just work. But it doesn’t. Although it DID work in Delaware. I can’t make or receive calls to the UK or to friends in the USA. But I CAN send and receive text messages. So what am I missing” How do I get this to work outside of Delaware?”

Next thing I am woken at around 3:30 in the morning by my phone announcing a text message. It’s from 3 customer support to tell me that they couldn’t get through to me and have left a message on the voice mail. Which, of course, I couldn’t call. Well – not without taking a flight back to Delaware which seemed a bit over the top.

And they did this three nights running! The stupid person at 3 didn’t think to themselves – “There’s no point in leaving voice mail because he CAN’T MAKE CALLS”. Not even “hey – this guy is in Denver which is 6 hours behind us so I wont text him at 9 in the morning in case he’s asleep”.

So – International Roaming. As long as you are in Delaware.

You watch the movies and the English guy get’s off the plane in New York and immediately makes a phone call home on his mobile. How does he do that? James Bond never has this problem. And I bet he’s never even been to Delaware. I use all the right codes. The +44 for the UK. 001 for the States. I connect to the local ‘partner’ network with no problem. Then nothing. Try and make a call and up it comes “Connection Error – Please go to Delaware and Try Again”.

If anyone comes visiting this sad and neglected corner of the web and knows how to make this work then please let me in on the secret. Unless, of course, the only place you ever visit in the USA is Delaware.

(When we got back home I accessed my voice mail to find three calls from 3 asking me to phone them to talk about why I couldn’t make calls. They weren’t laughing either).

I have to admit that this tickled my sense of humour. What you can’t see is the fact that this was the only bus in the coach park. There it stood – all alone, unloved, cloudy grey sky above, damp tarmac below.

Makes you wonder what it had done wrong!

While my wife could no longer resist the JDOCD burning within and set off for yet another day standing around in Leicester Square in 30 degree heat being pushed and shoved by screaming teenage girls, I set off for a nostalgic trip back to my home town and surrounding villages where I had not been for a good many years. For me, a big part of such a journey was to set foot again in Epping Forest, the playground of my childhood.

I was lucky enough to be bought up a mere 30 yards or so from the edge of the forest and, as I mentioned in a recent item, not many days would pass without me walking or playing in this wondrous place. It is what I have always missed the most since leaving and was the second thing I wanted to do on this trip – after taking a look at the old house.

The boundary of my freedom as a young 7 or 8 year old was clearly defined. No further in than the small area we always called ‘Drum Maids’ although nobody seemed to know why ir bore that name. Drum Maids was a small amphitheatre shaped clearing and at one edge was a small hill that kids liked to roll down in the summer and toboggan down after snow. It obviously looked bigger when I was 7 of course. Pathways to Drum Maids were clearly defined and it was quite a highpoint so that once you got passed it you were treated to a panoramic view of the forest to the distant horizon many, many miles away. This was an enchanted place and a summer evening would not be complete without the laughter of children running around keeping the long grass at bay in the clearing.

My first problem yesterday were that the pathways, worn down and distinct in my childhood, were no longer there. In the place of the patchwork of pathways and trails were dense patches of nettles growing right up to the oak trees I used to sit under collecting up acorns and growing right up to the forest edge. When I did eventually find a way in it was still overgrown with nettles and brambles but I finally broke through and while there were still no clearly defined pathways I managed to get to where I wanted to be. Except it wasn’t there any more. The photo shows the surrounding trees beyond which was once a small clearing and a favourite place for children to play. It is now merely an overgrown tangle of bushes, nettles, brambles and is completely impenetrable. In short – it has been abandoned. Nobody comes here any more.

In fact, there was little evidence to show that many people visit this part of the forest and this is a tragedy. And for me, a great sadness. And for the kids of today an experience missing from their lives.