Fonetics of the Phowl.

Sorry dear readers (all three of you), there are no piccies today. Just boring old Beleobus the maths-nerd cum historian of useless inventions with a side interest in non-digital watches... you know the one. Well two really, as you would have gathered from a previous post, 'Never the two shall meet.' In which personalities A and B were introdiced and discussed. I shall leave it to those with any interest in psychology to determine which persona is currently addressing you. Try A point 5 (if you can work that out... silly humour creeping in once again!)

So perhaps some news for those of you who follow the annals of Count Vladamir von Jiblets with interest...? He has been pleasantly sleeping off the after-effects of a Monopoly-Board pub crawl (done of course on a Monopoly board, not the streets of London, as a certain David Lister was known to have attempted with results that lasted eight seasons... RED DWARF for those who are unfamiliar with the BritComs.)

And so we are ranting again... not being a cunning linguist (don't say that when you're drunk, you usually say it correctly, assume you got it wrong and then say something very embarrasing in an attempt to correct for your own mis-hearing) the words scribed on this web page have become more of an outlet for the vast litres of imaginative juices that have been flooding the 'do the work you're being paid for' parts of my brain at present. Of course, in doing so I am not working and as working is what the government pays me for... although if I were to switch departments and begin to rave about the absurdity of today's youth... the department of human services may just employ me in their public relations department!

So here goes:

The youth of today is not at all unlike the youth of yesterday in that their basic desire is to feel heard, understood and accepted. The whole principle of 'seen but not heard' may have applied to all household servants below the rank of Butler, but then again they chose to enter such a service. Most people with minor issues do not need advice (in my soon to be humbled opinion - when the psychologists get onto me...) but a confidential ear. Everywhere I turn I see people giving advice - quite frankly it has gone past amusing and into the depths of frightening. When someone has a small problem (they lost their job/girlfriend/drinking competition) everyone around them is suddenly an expert on what is best for them and what they should do. In the vast majority of cases I have witnessed at a distance (or sometimes as the third party involved) the advice does nothing but worsen the situation. The recipient of the advice (which may be as good as Star Wars DVDs...) does not feel heard, understood or accepted but rather further alienated and generally useless. The problem then spreads and inflicts collateral damage...

The line of my argument should be quite clear. I am not sure what meaning this holds for any of you, my dear friends. But perhaps we can all learn a lot from the humble chicken who listens to everything...

There once was a wise old bird
Who listened to everything he heard
The less he spoke
The more he heard
Now why aren't we all like that wise old bird?

He was - OF COURSE - a chicken. Possibly made of rubber, we haven't had the chromograph results back yet.