The Inspiring and Positive World of Wavy Davy

2007 F1 Constructors Championship Winners

Posted in I can't believe I'm complaining about this, rambling cack, well here goes... by David Wylie on September 22, 2007

Ferrari Shop. One for the Price of Twenty

Originally uploaded by Dame Margot Fonteyn.

With several races still to go, his year’s FI constructors championship was won in the courts. Well actually in a strange kind of hearing with what Tony Blair might have called “legalness”. The sport seems to have been plunged into a credibility crisis, characterised by lots and lots of ad hominem argumentation. It reminds me of wrestling on a Saturday afternoon on World of Sport on ITV when I was just a wee garçon. My Gran was a pundit. The rules were a sort of universal natural justice system, the whole thing was to be enjoyed in black and white, mostly good guy versus bad guy stuff. The F1 arguments seem to be so polarised over what seems to be someone wanting clarification over a practice that seems to have been part of high level motorsport competition for donkey’s years – copying each others cars. I was really lucky and got to see the Italian GP this year in Monza. It cost a fortune. I really enjoyed it, I love F1 grand prix racing, and bore lots of people to death going at length about it (maybe you too, dear reader).
Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that I’m a bit disappointed by all this nonsense. Did anyone see the documentary on BBC last night about Factory Records? Wasn’t Anthony Wilson such a complete bumcracker?

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Is it “To See Ourselves as Others See Us” or “See Ourselves as we See Ourselves”?

Posted in rambling cack by David Wylie on June 14, 2007

Banish Photographers From Schools

Originally uploaded by Dame Margot Fonteyn.

I had a week off work. (the technical term is “a wee cough”) I spent the week going back and forward to the school to drop off the kids, pick up the kids, drop them back off again, give them lollies and chocolate for lunch. Watch daytime TV (crikey) I managed to recognise some of Pook’s pals from this very labour-intensive but low budget school photo he came home with.

I’m fighting to keep my blog off the crash barriers. My enlightened friend CP told me I wouldn’t last. How can I have writers block? I’d have to be a writer. Anyway, this has to be a bad sign, writing in a blog about writing in a blog.

Mr Nervous Before His First Radio Show

Posted in rambling cack by David Wylie on May 5, 2007

Mr Nervous Before His First Radio Show

Originally uploaded by Dame Margot Fonteyn.

Lucky me. I was offered a chance to use my transferable shoe-gazing skills on Couleur 3, the groovy Swiss radio station. My proficient DJ/broadcasting pal Alex is currently growing grey hairs wondering what this shambolic collaboration is going to do to his listening figures. I think he wants someone who doesn’t sound too professional, but knows what they’re talking about. That’s something I can definitely do, especially the not too professional part. We try and feature an artist, producer, or personality to showcase every week. The show ( “La Résidence” on Saturday nights at 10) features an eclectic mix of tunes, but with a predominant dance theme. Broadcasting generates a lot more adrenalin than I could ever have imagined. Wehey! If listening to recent dance music introduced by a Scotsman mumbling in french is your thang, come on down…

I r a Moron

Posted in rambling cack by David Wylie on April 30, 2007

I’ve read some incredible books, and enjoyed them. I’ve been to the theatre, enjoyed mind blowing plays. I’ve seen some amazing films, become bleary eyed at the opera. I’ve seen the northern lights from my bicycle. I’ve seen the mist roll from a mountain early on a cold Scottish morning. I’ve held back tears listening to an orchestra playing Holst. I enjoy good food, I have a discerning taste in friends, and know how to develop a conversation. This is only the clean stuff. In short, I believe I am a fairly well evolved, balanced individual.
How is then that when I notice that the word “Subaru” is “Urabus” backwards, that I take a photo of this word, go home, spend half an hour footering with the picture until it does indeed say “Urabus”, and then spend five minutes laughing at my oeuvre? As vic Reeves used to say, “I’m simple I am, but happy”

The Evil Twin

Posted in rambling cack by David Wylie on April 6, 2007

I wonder if Migros will copyright the tack. Denner isn’t just Migros’ evil twin, the red interior, aged floor tiles, the absurd, unfathomable crowd control device at the door, a hellish chrome and red plastic barrier that prevents anyone with children coming inside (not that that’s a problem, because the big market share items are made for consenting, sinning big people; a wall of cigarettes, booze, cigars, potato crisps with some of the most long chain trans-saturated fats known to man. A whisky called “Bag Piper” which lists its ingredients as “alcohol, flavourings”) When you queue, reflecting on the obsolete “don’t steal” signs, you can’t help wondering if your complexion looks as bad as your co-shoppers, reflected in the strange red omnipresent hue, made to resonate with the broken facial veins associated with industrial alcohol consumption or impending cardiac implosion.

Apart from all that, great shop…

Now Michael Schumacher Does His Shopping in Hornbach, Who’s Going to be the Most Mental?

Posted in rambling cack by David Wylie on March 17, 2007

Now Michael Schumacher Does His Shopping in Hornbach, Who’s Going to be the Most Mental?

Originally uploaded by Dame Margot Fonteyn.

Friday, best day of the week (in a poll conducted informally at work yesterday) is the day when the longest-coffee-break-of-the-week-by-at-least-30-minutes takes place. The discussion is generally buoyed by the fact that the whistle will soon blow, announcing the beginning of the feek-end. Yesterday was no exception. The arrival of spring improved the joviality content by up to 8%. “What are you doing this weekend?” All manner of wholly respectable activities are brandished around the table, walks in the mountains, cycle trips, carnivals, all that good wholesome stuff. This is what I said; “I’m getting up at three in the morning to watch the formula 1 on television – it’s live from Australia” The reaction surprised me. You’d have thought I’d said “I’m going to slaughter my son’s pet rabbit in a voodoo stylee and fry it in trans unsaturated fat” People don’t like formula 1. They’re not even indifferent to it, they don’t like it one little bit, and they are suspicious of people who do. I don’t care (I do a wee bit) One of my colleagues spotted the small, but perfectly formed ex racing driver Michael Schumacher DIY shopping in Etoy recently. That means he’s lost it completely. Other drivers may now win races. I can’t wait to watch the GP tonight. I shall phone my brother at the beginning of the race, and we will speak our special West Highland code to each other on the empty nighttime phone lines until somebody wins the race, and David Coulthard inevitably complains that it wasn’t his fault that it wasn’t him (sort of a fat lady singing equivalent).

Lovely Practical Ring

Posted in rambling cack by David Wylie on January 20, 2007

Lovely Practical Ring

I’m fascinated (I think that’s the word) by the way ladies rings are evolving these days. I’m unsure as to whether it is anything to do with the relaxing of the rules concerning who is or isn’t allowed to make rings officially. Jewellers used to have the monopoly on ringmaking. Now other people can make rings. Ringists? They can be made of metal, plastic, stone, (precious or very non-precious) wood, string, felt, stuff. I’m amused by the impractical nature of the new wave, so much so, in fact, that I was moved to create a Lovely Practical Ring for my wife, using materials I feel capture the mood of the moment in ringmaking. As I have linked to my favourite ringist’s work in this post, I will translate it into french. Unfortunately, I must feed the bears, and don’t have much time to translate. Babelfish should do the trick, it’s always really accurate

Here we go…

Je suis fasciné que (je pense qui est le mot) d’ailleurs les anneaux de dames évoluent de nos jours. Je suis incertain si il soit quelque chose faire avec la détente des règles au sujet de qui est ou n’est pas laissé faire des anneaux officiellement. Les bijoutiers avaient l’habitude d’avoir le monopole sur ringmaking. Maintenant d’autres peuvent faire des anneaux. Ringists ? Elles peuvent être faites de métal, plastique, pierre, (très ou très non-précieux) bois, corde, feutre, substance. Je m’amuse par la nature impraticable de la nouvelle vague, tellement ainsi, en fait, que j’ai été déplacé pour créer un bel anneau pratique pour mon épouse, en utilisant des matériaux que je sens la capture l’humeur du moment dans ringmaking. Car je me suis référé au travail de mes ringist de favori dans ce poteau, je le traduirai en Français. Malheureusement, je dois alimenter les ours, et n’ai pas beaucoup d’heure à traduire. Babelfish devrait faire le tour, il est toujours vraiment précis…

Found it

Posted in rambling cack by David Wylie on January 15, 2007

My quest to be ‘10% more bad’ recieved a heartening boost today when I found my bad ring. Being bad hasn’t really proved to be as easy as I had hoped. I fear I may have become chronically good. The ring is like the elastic band that anxious people who have undergone behavioral modification therapy wear round their wrists. I put it on to reassert my commitment to mild badness. Yeah right. I found it in the pocket of one of the squarest jackets I own. I had taken it off for a meeting with nervous, very straight people I wished to create a good impression with. How bad is that? It’s not bad at all. It’s actually good.

The rock stuff is coming along well. The Killers. The Kaiser Chiefs. The Fall. The Sensational Alex Harvey Band. Orange Juice. The Arctic Monkeys. The sound system in my new car is the best I have ever owned. Covers up the sound of the 1980’s Ford Transit diesel engine. Rock, well…rocks

What facial care products could you not live without?

Posted in incredulous nonsense, rambling cack by David Wylie on January 11, 2007

I haven’t read anything except work stuff this year. Actually that’s not true. I read an article in ‘Red’ magazine, a memorable publication that can be found in our toilet (for ladies). The only thing I retained from ‘Red’ magazine was a question from an interview. “What facial care products could you not live without”. Fortunately, my sense of absurdity was switched on, so our guests for the evening were spared the rant. What facial care products could you not live without?

Tonight I really went for it and read a whole magazine, one that wasn’t in the toilet. It was ‘the Word’ a magazine that seems to be the work of peeps that wrote for ‘Q Magazine’ and the ‘NME’ back in the good old days when you could store anything between 1 and 10 songs on a (harrumph) portable music player. Anyway, this ‘the Word’ magazine was entertaining. I’m going to move up to a book. My post Christmas concentration levels are increasing. Tina’s neighbour in Englestan once said “once you’ve read one book, you’ve read them all”.

Here is the weather forecast, sponsored by the Reformed Church of the Canton de Vaud;

As it is unhealthily warm for the season, then by celestial law, it’s going to get really really bad soon. We’re going to pay! Pay! The 24heures front page proclaiming that we are to suffer at a later date (unspecified) was a manifestation of the general discomfort felt by God-fearing people all over the Canton “they say it’ll be really harsh in February, March…blah blah…short summer…blah blah…” “they” of course being every molecule in your body, and the molecules in the body of the colleague you had coffee with this morning.

If it does actually get bad, please feel free to mock me. I’ll start an ‘I told you so’ category.

Wow. Rather a lot to say for myself this evening.

A sort of health care/café culture/second hand bookshop mashup tribute to William McGonagall

Posted in rambling cack by David Wylie on January 10, 2007

During a post-motorcycle headrush last year, I wrote an email to my friend in the form of a poem. I suppose the post should really be a tribute to Stephen Patrick Kelly, one of the good guys. Technically it’s not really a poem, more the result of an excess of neurotransmitters available in my synaptic clefts. I think it’s good enough to slap some paste on and stick up on the interestingnet, so get some of this;

It was on an exquisite autumn day in the month of November

A Monday or a Tuesday it’s difficult now to remember

I went off to Media Markt, got some new speakers and wee Ellie

Whilst footering around instead of getting dressed, did lose the remote for the telly

Which has absolutely nothing to do with my trip up to Neuch’ to visit Stephen Patrick Kelly

 

He strode into the caff with a daft big grin and his napper fairly shorn

And a sort of extremely elitist trendy camera bag, but with the camera itself long gorn

Whilst the sun went down, or maybe the overcast sky made it appear dark, he was drinking green tea

And we blethered, and he told interesting tales about life’s rich tapestry

Amongst them some precisions about paramedical training in the Chaux-de-Fonds and the folk doing their ASSC

 

We extracted ourselves from the caff with the smackhead waitress who couldn’t remember the name of the place

Off to the second hand English bookshop we did race

Only it really was getting on, and so unfortunately I had to up the pace

Although Stephen managed to get to the bookshop and from what he tells me, the prices there were ace

 

He got back into his muckle big motor and headed up to the Chaux-de-Fonds after handing the lady in the shop a few penny

Probably stuck on an obscure hoochter Tcheuctar tape by someone with a name like “Mary-Anne McIlhenny”

The drive up that road involves a temperature drop of several degrees

And in the winter, the balls off a brass monkey the cold can freeze

Stephen Patrick Kelly can tell magic stories of experience and yearning

And the best bit is that while he’s telling them, you can hear the wee wheels turning

 

Hungry for McGonagall? Get your gums round this