Squander Two

Doctors want knives banned:

A&E doctors are calling for a ban on long pointed kitchen knives to reduce deaths from stabbing.

A team from West Middlesex University Hospital said violent crime is on the increase - and kitchen knives are used in as many as half of all stabbings.

They argued many assaults are committed impulsively, prompted by alcohol and drugs, and a kitchen knife often makes an all too available weapon.

The research is published in the British Medical Journal.

The researchers said there was no reason for long pointed knives to be publicly available at all.

They consulted 10 top chefs from around the UK, and found such knives have little practical value in the kitchen.

Of course, those chefs are well aware that any ban enacted probably won't apply to professional kitchens, so they can say whatever they want.

Look, I like cooking, and I have a large collection of kitchen knives, and have never stabbed anyone. My knives are useful, and long knives are far more useful than short ones. Short kitchen knives, actually, are crap. Good kitchen knives are expensive, too, and I'm not going to pay to have all mine replaced with crappy non-pointy ones. If a ban is implemented, they're going to have to get a warrant and invade my house; I'm not going to meekly take them all round to the police station.

Natalie describes this as

the steady progress of the modern world towards a parody of itself

and is nearly right, except that parody is supposed to be funny.

It's not even worth taking the piss out of these fuckwits. Time and time again, such ridiculous illogical ill-thought-out bollocks has ended up becoming the law. These tossers may be stupid, but they're clever enough to get their way. I just can't be bothered any more.

What I will say is this. Take the number of kitchen knives currently in the UK. Take the number of assaults involving such knives. Compare.

How disappointing. The code has been solved by some woman called Diandra with a computer program.

What is it with some people? This whole thing was clearly set up to be a bit of fun, and, unsurprisingly, some smug git comes along and shits on it. Of course a computer can solve it: it wasn't advanced military-grade encryption and wasn't supposed to be. The whole point of it was that twenty different unrelated people had to track each other down. The point wasn't merely to break the code; it was the process of breaking the code. If Diandra was so desperate to find out what the result was, could she not have just solved it for herself and not posted it in public? Well, no, because she didn't want to find out the result; she wanted to show off. She says:

Some may think it's cheating, but why work hard when you can work smart!

Well, Diandra, here are some suggestions for other ways you could help people to work smart. When someone's watching a murder-mystery, you could look up the book it's based on and tell them who the murderer is before the end, saving them the hard work of deduction. When people are playing poker, you could position mirrors behind all the players' shoulders, saving them the hard work of guessing who's got the best hand. When someone's out hunting ducks with a gun, you could flood the lake with duck poison, saving them the hard work of stealth and aiming. I'm sure everyone will be terribly grateful to you for saving them all that hard work, you smug, self-satisfied, idiotic, tiresome bastard.

I've got two letters from the Inland Revenue over the last couple of weeks. The first told me that I overpaid my tax for last year, and so came with a cheque for about twelve quid. Not much, but a nice surpise all the same. The second letter told me that I underpaid my tax for last year by well over a grand, and so will be taxed more over the coming year. Bugger.

Both letters quote the same national insurance number, so they've not confusedly mistaken me for two people. I've no idea what's going on, and neither, it seems, have they.

The really disturbing mistake isn't theirs, though. The underpayment letter says that the reason I underpaid is that Reed Employment, for whom I was working when I was with the Royal Mail, paid absolute zero tax on my behalf. Now, I know that Reed deducted the tax from my wages and I have the payslips to prove it. If they didn't pass that money on to the government, what did they do with it?

I've received a couple of comments to the post about the mystery code-breaking game, which have led to this forum, which has provided me with a whole bunch of clues. Plus I've found another one off my own bat.

So...

q=i
n=t
d=h
k=v
x=g
o=c
y=p
f=n
v=y
r=f
z=d

With those substitutions made, we get this:

th__v_gdp_h__fh_n,__f__png_pn__f_f_v_gp__.
_dp_hf___hpny_h_h__t____cn__h_n_t,
f__gc_fpn__fn_cp_hv_g__n_p__pf_ypg_hig_
hnpf__n___,_fp_hf-___h_npnh;nd____tdpn_n__,
p_pch._d_yhv_gp__hf__vh_ndh__g_fhvp
_cg_dp__dp_hpf_ndpf_v_g___y_pv_f_!

... which is clearly bollocks. Even allowing for spaces, there's never going to be a place for "hpny" or "fhvp". So, try substituting the other way around, and we get this instead:

fz___x__v_z_x_zqr,_x___vr__vrqx_n_x_x_v__.
q_v_z_x__zvrkqz_zx_fqn_x_rxdznrxf,
_x___q_vrqx_rx_v_z_x_nqrdv__v__kv_nz_
_qzrv__nrq__,q_voz_-_q_znrvrz;r_qnqnf_vrqrqn,
v_v_z.q_xkz_x_v__z__x_z_r_z_x___z_vn___
_vnq_v_zv__r_v___x__x_k_v_q__!

... which is even wronger. "rxdznrxf"? Please.

I'm left with three possibilities: either this code is not a straight-forward letter substitution; or it is, but the clues are cunningly misleading or jumbled in some way; or I haven't drunk enough Diet Coke yet today and my brain's not functioning.

When a new technology appears, it's tricky to know how it's going to turn out. When it's new and shiny and different and special, we tend to think it'll always be special. But, once we get used to having it around, a bit of us rubs off on it, and it becomes slightly human. Ringtones are a good example of this. Watch an episode of Star Trek. All their communicators make exactly the same noise. A large group of starship officers is having a chat or a fight; we hear a blip-blip; and only one of them reacts. We know now that this is total nonsense: if all the communicators had the same alert tone, every single officer would start patting their pockets and looking at each other aimlessly. When Star Trek was thought of, tiny portable comms devices did not exist, so the writers felt that the officers would pay close respectful attention to such amazing gadgets. Now we've all got at least one, and they've become a bit human, each with its own, infinitely annoying, voice.

For all his faults, this is one thing George Lucas gets dead right. One day, maybe we will have hyper-drives and droids and guns that fire streaks of hot light, and, after a brief honeymoon period, we will treat them just as Han Solo does: we'll kick them and swear at them.

All this is leading up to a thought that occurred to me the other day.

If we ever invent proper teleportation devices, I reckon I know what one of their most popular uses will be. Not transport: something that dangerous, we'll use it on inanimate objects for many years before we risk atomising ourselves. No, the first major marketing success of teleporters will be little devices that fit discretely into your underwear. Bladder full? Bowels shifting? Press a button and go for it. Nobody need ever know. All those times when you really, really need to go but just can't get to a WC — no more. Toilet breaks a thing of the past. Imagine the effect on the arts: operas could be tripled in length, with no need for intermissions. Never having to use a public toilet ever again: this would be true freedom, the likes of which humankind has never known before.

And then the practical jokes would start. Some bright spark would hack the thing, changing the factory destination settings so that they could piss on chavs remotely. A wave of utterly disgusting crime would very literally besmirch our society, until the politicos reacted with some new and wildly inappropriate law against... what would we call it? Remote defecation? Scataporting? Telefouling? Yeah, telefouling has a ring to it. Telefoulers would get five years in clink and, upon release, would be banned for life from owning a pissporter, hence creating a new black market. Would you attach an unlicensed, unguaranteed pissporter of uncertain provenance? I know I wouldn't. Doctors would learn to cope with a range of fascinating and embarassing new injuries suffered by the criminal classes. Many of them would be crippled. Such injuries would become so commonplace that anyone with a pronounced limp would be openly mocked in the streets.

And Californians would attach them to their pets.

OK, so this is interesting. Earlier today, this comment appeared on me blog:

Hello!

This is not spam.

You are one of twenty bloggers chosen to play the game at aequalswhat dot blogspot dot com.

Your part of the code is q=i.

Let the game begin!

Go to the address given, and you find this:

Twenty bloggers have been chosen to try and break this code, a simple letter substitution code. Fourteen have received one part of the code key, six have received two.

They will need everyone before this is all over.

As far as I can tell there are no pre-existing connections between the bloggers chosen, but I will say that no first-time blogger has been chosen. Everyone involved has had his or her blog up for at least three months.

During the game I will answer only ten "yes or no" questions. This is a total between all of you, so you'll have to decide if it's worth asking your question before you find your fellow codebloggers. I may or may not post the questions here and I also reserve the right to answer with "I cannot answer", in which case you will not be charged a question. The bloggers involved have been made privy to my email address and can reach me there for their questions. Remember, "yes or no" questions only, please.

And now, the code.

The words have been compressed to thwart any attempts to guess the answer according to the number of letters in each word, but punctuation has been left intact to serve as markers.

The game begins now. Have fun with it.

ndwwkgxzyldmgrdif,ugrabyfxwyfigrtrgkgxyww.
izyldrgabdyfvidudgjnitmgofghdtfgn,
rgbxoiryfigrfgoysdkgxtifhyusyrmvyxtd
qxidfyrmtfiww,irycdr-wisdtfyfd;fzititnzyfifit,
yayod.izgvdkgxywwdregkdmfzdegxbrdkytoxuz
ytizyldyrmfzyrskgxjgbvwykira!

What a bloody brilliant idea. And what a bugger of a code.

Later, I got an email from Eddie, the guy behind it, explaining further and also bending over backwards to apologise:

Some of the twenty have deleted my comment, others admonished my initial tactics (for which, again, I am sorry) and others still have thought this is a cool idea.

Jesus, some people. Read Eddie's original comment again. Was it really so offensive that it needed to be immediately deleted and Eddie had to be forced to apologise for it? Really? Some people are just tossers, they really are. But I digress.

This is a great idea, and this is exactly the wrong time to pick me as a contestant. I'm trying to learn a new computer language and the ins and outs of an insanely complex and utterly user-unfriendly piece of software while getting my house thoroughly decorated within two weeks when I go to a friend's wedding in another country. Code-breaking I ain't got much time for. But I don't want to contribute towards killing such a fine idea, and, frankly, feel a little honoured that I was one of the first picked in what may end up being a big new craze — or may not, but hey. So, while I don't have a lot of time to donate, I'm posting this post to make it easier for the other contestants to find me and my piece of the puzzle. A few links for the search engines' spiders might help, too, so: aequalswhat, aequalswhat, aequalswhat, aequalswhat, aequalswhat, aequalswhat, aequalswhat, aequalswhat, Code Blog, Code Blog, Code Blog, Code Blog, Code Blog, Code Blog, Code Blog, Code Blog.

This whole thing could just flop. Or it could soar. At the very least, it'll be interesting to see which.

Saw a report on the news about these plans (that will almost certainly be abandoned) for criminals sentenced to community service to be made to wear distinctive clothing, such as the orange jumpsuits American convicts wear. I'm not always a traditionalist, but, in this case, I have to say that I'd prefer white with black arrows. But anyway. They interviewed someone from the National Association of Parole Officers, who said that it was a bad idea because, not wanting to be publicly humiliated, more criminals would fail to show up, and then they'd get sent to jail. This, he seemed to think, was a problem. I don't get it. You're convicted of a crime; you're given a sentence; you refuse to carry out that sentence; you therefore get a stiffer sentence. Isn't that how the system's supposed to work? Since when is the normal working of the criminal justice system in itself a reason not to make any changes to the criminal justice system? And, of all people, why is it a parole officer making this spurious complaint? A parole officer is supposed to work for the public by ensuring that only the convicts who obey the rules are allowed to remain free. Instead, they now seem to think they work for criminals by making sure the rules are nice and easy to obey so that convicts' time in jail may be minimised.

Tim Worstall does this great thing called the Britblog Roundup, in which he links to a selection of good blog posts from the British Isles every week. It's linked to me several times now, which is terribly flattering (thank you very much, whoever nominated me), but I am stupid: I was so flushed with happiness about being linked to that it simply did not occur to me that maybe I should link back until Tim sent me this rather terse email:

Roundup is now up at :

http://timworstall.typepad.com/timworstall
/2005/05/britblog_roundu_6.html

Links back to it are appreciated.

Tim

Like I said, terse. I read it and immediately slapped my forehead, hard, probably. Oops.

It was a fame thing, I think: having been linked to, I assumed that everyone reading this blog had come here from Tim's, so didn't need to be told about its existence. It completely slipped my mind that, of course, I am four gazoolion times more famouser than Tim, and that he needs all the linkage he can get from important bloggers like me — hence his bitterness and resentment. I would like to apologise to Tim for my uncharacteristic — not to mention unrealistic — modesty, and for any distress it may have caused him.

This latest one links to me yet again; I have now done the decent charitable thing and linked back before this whole blog etiquette thing gets really embarassing. Go and read it and follow the links in it; they're all good.

I'd like to ask everyone to go over to Mr Jackson's site and wish him a belated happy birthday. Just to piss him off.

Mr Tall links to this disturbing report:

The Government today intervened directly in a right-to-life case being heard at the Court of Appeal with a message to judges that giving patients the right to demand lfe-prolonging treatment would have "very serious implications" for the National Health Service.

The General Medical Council is trying to overturn a ruling in favour of Leslie Burke, a 45-year-old former postman with a degenerative brain condition, who last year won the right to stop doctors withdrawing artificial nutrition or hydration (ANH) treatment until he dies naturally.

Philip Sales, representing Patricia Hewitt, the Health Secretary, told the court today that if a right to ANH was established, patients would be able to demand other life-prolonging treatments.

Apparently, this is a Bad Thing. For some reason.

Mr Sales said that under current GMC guidelines to doctors, a competent patient was entitled to decide between the treatment options offered to him by his doctor.

"But the patient cannot require his doctor to offer him any treatment option which, in the doctor’s view, is not clinically appropriate ...

Fair enough. Nothing controversial or unreasonable there.

... or which cannot be offered for other reasons - having regard to the efficient allocation of resources within the NHS."

What the fuck?

The GMC can now join that long and depressing list of misleadingly named organisations. They aren't a general medical council. A general medical council would be concerned with medical issues. The GMC have decided that funding trumps medicine. They clearly now see themselves as subservient to the NHS — which is interesting, as they also assert control over private practices.

Any argument about whether the rich get better healthcare in the UK has been well and truly settled, anyway. If you go to see a private doctor, they will recommend treatments based on what's appropriate for your condition. If you go to see an NHS doctor, they will recommend treatments based on what's appropriate for your condition, unless those treatments are considered an inefficient use of NHS resources. If a treatment would save your life but would be too expensive for the government, the GMC want your doctor not even to tell you about it.

Mr Burke, of Mardale Road, Lancaster, who suffers from cerebellar ataxia, was in court in his wheelchair today listening to the arguments for overturning the ruling which he believes will save him from death by starvation, or thirst if ANH was withdrawn after he loses the ability to communicate.

Mr Burke had to go to court today and listen to his doctors arguing for the right to starve him to death as soon as he loses the ability to communicate. He had to watch the government step in to back his doctors up. This system, we are repeatedly told, is the envy of the world. Which bit are people envious of, exactly? Is it the being killed or the watching people explain how they're going to kill you first?

I wrote here about living wills, which are not currently legally binding in the UK:

There are plenty of people here in Britain who, were I comatose, would presume to speak on my behalf, despite never having known me; plenty of people who would earnestly tell my doctors that what I really wanted was death. And who knows where British law is headed?

Well, now we see where British law is heading: the General "Medical" Council are trying to pre-empt any recognition of living wills in this country by establishing a principle that patients may not make decisions about their own treatment — and, just as in the Schiavo case, the doctors are insisting that giving a patient food and water is medical treatment. Our doctors and our Government are fighting in court to assert their "right" not to give patients the treatment they ask for. If you make a living will, they want the "right" to ignore it if they think it's too expensive. Giving you food and water is, apparently, too expensive.

There is no hyperbole involved when I say that reading that report made me feel physically sick.

What has happened to our civilisation?