A momentous occasion

After many months of dedication and determination against seemingly insurmountable odds, I have just this very moment completed a long, arduous but rewarding journey.

Yes, my friends, I can announce that I finished reading Ulysses.

I think I even understood some of it.

[EDIT] ... I will in the very near future write up my thoughts on what I think Ulysses is about or, at the very least, the many ideas that the novel has inspired in my brain. My head has been buzzing all day; I haven't felt this mentally stimulated and excited by a work of art since I saw INLAND EMPIRE.

Incompetent interviewing

I admit it: I am shit at interviews. Doesn't matter how much I prepare and practice because on the day I become a stuttering, mumbling, inarticulate fool.

I applied for a job with the local Police authority as a Tenprint Officer. This job is mainly attempting to identify fingerprints taken from crime scenes. Cool, huh? Well, I thought so.

The first stage of the selection process was an assessment day. Twenty or so candidates were ushered into a room and given an introduction to the history and basic patterns of fingerprints. I was fascinated, my mouth hanging open in wonderment in an especially goofy fashion. We candidates were then given an half hour exam to test our ability to compare fine details. We were presented with pattern images and each one accompanied by four other images, only one of which was identical, and we had to spot the difference. It was great fun and I left the assessment feeling deeply smitten with the idea of doing this for a living.

A week later I received a letter inviting me to an interview. I was so excited and I vowed to give myself every chance of winning the job. As I was temping in the Police authority's finance department, I had access to local crime statistics, departmental development reviews, scene-of-crime procedures and crime reduction strategies. I printed off anything that might be relevant to working in the Fingerprint Bureau. I then looked into the study of fingerprints and found a book by Sir Francis Galton published in 1892 that set the standard for fingerprint classification and is still used today. For two weeks I read and rehearsed answers to likely questions. I had never wanted any job so much as this one. I was going to go into that interview and dazzle the panel with my knowledge and enthusiasm.

The day of the interview finally arrived. I got myself suited and booted, arrived nice an early at the venue, strolled confidently into the interview room with a smile on my face, greeted the three members of the interview panel with a firm handshake and...

I fucked it up.

"OK, we're, uh, going to ask you some competency based questions."

Oh no. Oh shit. No, don't do this to me, not the competency based questions, the same old generic, asinine competency based questions. I want to enthuse about Francis Galton and pattern-types and genes and prove my genuine enthusiasm for the subject...

"What are the advantages and disadvantages of working in a team?"

The... what? Er, OK, um... you have the knowledge and support of other people but... er... sometimes this can lead to indecision. Now, about fingerprints...

[The panel take notes... scribbling... scribbling... tum-te-tum... scribble scribble scribble...]

"Give an example of a task you performed that required following a logical sequence."

What? What the fuck are you talking about? How about making a cup of coffee: that requires a logical sequence. Every task has a logical sequence. Give me an example of a task that requires following an illogical sequence. You see? That question doesn't make any fucking sense! Uh... uh... mumble mumble blah blah... Oh god, I'm fucking this up.

[Scribble... scribble... scribble...]

By the time somebody asked me a question about fingerprints and why I wanted the job I was so despondent that my well-rehearsed enthusiastic answers blundered out of my mouth in an especially feeble and unconvincing manner: "Oh... er... Francis Galton's book... uh... first fingerprint bureau set up in Calcutta in... 1892... no, that was when Galton's book was... and genetics... I read a lot of popular science books... all fascinating... hmm."

To cap it all, the third chap asked me some questions to test my recollection of the presentation I had attended two weeks prior. I rattled off the answers to those with no problem: "Arches, loops and whorls... The delta and the core... IDENT 1... Livescan..." But then he asked a question that stumped me. I foundered. I didn't even remember the thing he asked me about being mentioned at the presentation.

"To be fair," interrupted Panel Member No. 1, "we didn't actually cover that."

"Oh right," said Panel Member No. 3, "I didn't know if you had or not."

Hang on: A man who was not only absent from the presentation but who also didn't know exactly what the presentation consisted of was testing my memory of it? Oh sure, that makes sense.

And then Panel Member No. 3 asks, "Give me an example of when you worked in an office."

That was the point when I nearly lost it completely. "Give you an example of when I worked in a...? You mean apart from the last ten fucking years of my working life? Of course I have worked in fucking offices. You know I've worked in fucking offices because it says so on my application form which you must have read otherwise you wouldn't have invited me to this fucking interview in the first place. Add to that the fact that I have been describing jobs that would obviously have been office-based. You think that I performed the role of Product Manager for a software reseller in a fucking barn? I processed copyright permission requests on a tractor? I updated database records on a laptop as I jumped out of a fucking aeroplane? For fuck's sake, are you thinking about the questions you are asking? Have you even listened to a single fucking word I've said?"

Obviously, I didn't say that. I should have, though, as I knew by that point that I had lost the job.

I was so angry at myself for having allowed my nerves get the better of me yet again despite all my preparations but I was also pissed at the interview panel who were clearly uncomfortable with interviewing candidates, had not consulted each other on what questions they would be asking and were so utterly reliant on their list of pre-prepared competency based questions that they sucked all the life and enthusiasm out of the entire interview.

Give you an example of when I've used my initiative and communication skills? Here's an idea: why don't you demonstrate your initiative and communication skills and have a conversation with me?

Do not adjust your browser

Here's a bit of a find: Terry Gilliam's first foray into animation circa 1968, including the famous "Christmas Card" skit from Do Not Adjust Your Set.

Enjoy!

Half started, half finished?

Having made a real push and forsaking all the other unread books on my shelf, I am happy to report that I am exactly halfway through Ulysses!

Um... that's it, really. Look, it's a big deal to me, all right?

"I'm a minor player in my own life story."

Anthony H. Wilson
1950—2007

People Like Chris Langham

I'm deeply saddened by the case against Chris Langham and its outcome. I have been a fan of this talented actor, comedian and writer for many years. His was a face than would often crop up in comedy shows and his deadpan demeanour stole many a scene from under the noses of the stars of those shows. He was brilliant in People Like Us (as the incompetent off-screen interviewer Roy Mallard), Help (with Paul Whitehouse) and, most recently, The Thick Of It.

Although acquitted of sexual abuse charges he was found guilty of making indecent images of of children being sexually abused. The argument that he bought and downloaded these images for "research" is disingenuous as is the notion that only looking at such images doesn't hurt anyone. If you purchase images of children being raped then you are complicit in the act by virtue of rewarding the abuser's efforts and providing the demand for such material. The purchasing of such images is illegal and Langham was well aware of that; having been found guilty he deserves to be punished.

Despite this, I won't be joining the "let the pervert rot in prison forever" brigade. In situations like this it is all too easy to succumb to simplistic knee-jerk moral indignation. I don't believe Langham to be bad person, a monster who gets his kicks from watching child porn but rather a man with long standing mental problems and a history of substance abuse who needs help.

Langham claims to have been abused as a child and an experience like that stays with you forever. You may eventually learn to cope with it and lead a "normal" life or it may overwhelm you entirely and drive you to insanity or suicide; or you may become obsessed with trying to understand how anybody could do such an horrific thing. That desire to understand may be what led Langham to buy those images of child abuse, to try and get inside the head of his abuser, to confront the memory and work out why it happened to him.

While this may explain his actions it does not excuse them. He crossed a line that he knew he should not have crossed and he will have to face the consequences. I only hope that he is given the help he needs and not simply left to rot.

Having said all that, I wonder at my ability to disassociate the art from the artist. Despite empathising with Langham, will I ever be able to watch People Like Us or those early episodes of The Thick Of It again without feeling slightly queasy? It's sad to think that all his great work will now be tarnished in the eyes of many by what he has done.