The Playstation has to leave. Why?

So this is it (shoobab): my Playstation 3 finally has to go. We spend 3 stormy years together, but in the end her flaws where just too obvious, so she will leave the household through the front door via ebay, head (or sisaxis controller) held high.

When Sony announced the original specs for the PS3, I literally drooled: the mixture of capable graphics hardware with the cell processor, coupled with bluetooth, wifi and a blu ray player sounded just too good. So when I finally bought her in February 2008 due to a sudden bout of long distance relationship induced blues, I was incredibly excited to have her in the house. I was envisioning nights of coding and surfing on the fastest Linux ever, thanks to the remarkable architecture, amazing graphics and superb cell processor, but of course all my dreams were crushed due to Sony’s decision to limit 3rd party OS’s access to the hardware and my inability to work the Sisaxis controller. So all games I played I immediately failed due to my extreme clumsiness (or the fact that when I learned gaming, we had something called ‘joysticks’, ‘mice’ and ‘keyboards’. I still game (to the chagrin of the best girlfriend ever), but these days it’s a Windows 7 based gargantuan rig (Macs aren’t for gaming. They are for working), and so the PS3 ended up to be the most electricity demanding BlueRay player ever. Each time another episode of Boston Legal was watched, another three nuclear power stations in France had to put another log on the fire and the lights in my little village in Mid Essex started to flicker.

The last insult really was Sony’s appalling behaviour towards their fan community by locking down the juggernaut further and further and in the end even going to war with their most devoted hardware hackers. This, and its inability to play multi region DVD’s (there are ca 100 unwatched DVD’s from New Zealand in my living room, begging to be freed) finally pushed it onto ebay.

So, if you can actually use a Sixaxis controller, don’t mind the French to work their nuclear power stations overtime and have no use for DVDs outside region 2 and love Sony’s hold on your product, buy her here.

But please be nice to her.

Sniff.

The fourth largest foreign cultural group in the UK and its planning repercussions

Now imagine this in St James' Park

Today I learned that I belong to the fourth largest foreign cultural group in the UK, behind my fellow citizens from Pakistan, Poland and the Hispanics (which I presume are from South America and Spain). That of course means that the local councils should treat me like the ethnic minority that I am and allow some leeway for my cultural preferences. That’s the same argument that the Irish Travellers use for their retrospective planning permission requests, so that should apply to me as well.

Hence I am planning the building of a 30 feet tall Black Forest Cuckoo Clock in St James’s Park, complete with a stage for an umpah band, a life sized cuckoo that will eminate every thirty minutes from its flat in third story of the cuckoo clock tower and yodel (amplified by a 1000 Watt sound system) over the lush park area. After finishing it I will move in and expect the council to grant retrospective planning permission, as this is traditional for my culture, and I belong to the fourth largest in the country. Now that’s some muscle.

Holladiho!

The Dangers of Biking in the Capital

 

This poignant memorial has been standing at the corner of Mile End Road / Burdett Road in the East End since I can remember and -unusually – has never defaced or removed. It reminds daily of the dangers of riding a push bike in London, and while things are slowly getting better (thanks to a mayor who rides a bike himself), there were still 19 dead and 2400 injured cyclists in 2009.

Be careful out there.

St Clements Hospital

There are few spookier things than an old, abandoned psychiatric hospital. How many tortured souls must have been living in the confines of this old Victorian workhouse that was transformed into a psychiatric hospital in 1936. On Mile End Road in the East End of London, you can still marvel at its faded architecture and wonder what the security men who are guarding the place at night must be thinking.

Oh yes, and it’s going to  be converted into a block of flats.

 

 

 

 

Spooky.