Andrew Reid: Curb Your Enthusiasm

For the latest on the fire see my Twitter at
http://twitter.com/commanderspike

My girlfriend Joey and I have a joke, where we speak to each other in cat language: “Meow, meow, meow?” making sure to include some body language and a change in tone of voice every now and again, carrying meaning in the otherwise repetitive use of ‘meow’. It’s based on a YouTube cartoon called featuring a cat called Detective Mittens, who is - yes you’ve guessed it - a detective cat with a detective style hat.

Well tonight I am a rubbish detective too.

A few hours ago my friend and I were trying to install Leopard on my Mac Mini, and as we did so he discussed his latest projects, the setting up of a free clinic for children in India, and the fact he was going to blog about it, photo document it and publise it through the internet in general. A good idea I thought, seen as those his blog is pretty popular and new tools like Twitter are becoming better known. Twitter was recently discussed on the Jonathan Ross show by Stephen Fry of all people. Both celebrities can be followed on Twitter, and as I watched their feed of messages this evening, Russell Brand also began using it for the first time.

It’s like Facebook status updates and photos without all the other rubbish.

Well, irony upon irony: within an hour of the huge fire breaking out in Manchester city centre that evening at least two other people were talking about it on Twitter, locally. One, a radio producer for Key 103, the other an IT professional living nearby. Both locals. I meanwhile was posting my first ever Tweets with my photos from the fire.

Prior to that, Andy and I were lucky enough to catch things quite early on. (See Andy’s blog here)

Bidding goodbye after getting the Mac up and running, we smelled burning out in my apartment’s courtyard and smoke in the air. Thinking my building was on fire, I craned my neck upwards but with not seeing any flames, I went back inside again. It was 1am. Andy called me a few minutes later to say that he’d found huge billows of smoke hanging over the city centre. I came out, camera in hand, and we walked to the site of the fire on Great Ancoats street, which was lined with hoses, fire engines and policemen.

When I got back to Twitter about it, my flat mate James, a professional broadcast journalist for the BBC on North West Tonight, had returned from his night shift and asked if he could borrow the photos for tomorrow’s news bulletin. He’d seen the update on my Facebook status, which linked to my Twitter feed.

All this new technology, whilst often quite mundane, has interesting implications for the news agencies, who may find themselves outnumbered (if not out skilled) by a load of roaming amateurs twittering into their iPhones. I am not sure I like this brave new world of news, for not everybody is a journalist or a detective. Most of us are Detective Mittens, just typing stuff into Google or snapping away with our pocket cameras without a thought toward quality or authenticity.

So, after my rediculously amateurish journalism exploits had ceased for the night, I began to turn my attention to amateur detective work.

From the numbers of the buildings on the opposite side of the road, Andy had deduced that the site on fire opposite was number 57 Great Ancoats Street.

A little Googling by Detective Mittens revealed that the site was home to a huge construction project, from a construction group named BSC.

BSC have been leaving a spectacular mess of unfinished sites around the city centre. Once destined to be huge residential towers, these ambitious projects have been cursed from start to incompletion.

At first we thought the tower on fire was BSC’s Sarah Tower, and although I am now not really sure whether the site on fire is that of the Sarah Tower or the more generically named Ancoats Street Tower (pretty sure that’s the one as the Sarah Tower is near the canal), you could reasonably suggest that BSC is one hell of a cow boy builder.

According to a further article offered up by Google, all of BSC’s Manchester projects are on hold due to the credit crunch. Previously they have constantly flouted health and safety laws, to the extent that a Polish workman actually DIED on site at the Sarah Tower. Other sites had live unfused electrical lines coming straight out of the ground supply into onsite tools and equipment.

Hmmm - the plot thickens. In fact the city council is very worried about one site in particular, because it’s in danger of falling down.

The fire at 57 Great Ancoats Street tonight may help that to happen sooner than the council think.

As for the cause? You decide…

Watch it here

The new year is a time for people to look forward to a change in luck, and for one moment on Saturday night I thought my wishes had been answered. The usual Dale Winton guff had been replaced by a cynical game show all about laughing at over confident beefcakes falling over and being punched in the face.

It hadn’t been the most promising start to 2009. I saw in the new year in full lycra body suit, walking into a room full of strangers from a previous generation a long time prior to the arrival of several sheep and a horse. The Spanish couple’s jaws fell to the fall as my sleek legs made their way across to the dinner table, underpants clearly visible through the tight lycra pig suit.

Then, more bad luck of the usual complicated variety to start off the year. A plane crash on the train line to London my mum had just booked tickets for. An unpleasant misunderstanding with a postman who looked like Osama Bin Laden. The attempted purchase of a Mac Mini over the phone, thwarted by the fact someone else was ‘now looking at it’ in the actual shop where it was, and had subsequently decided to buy it. Bad timing.

All in all it didn’t put me in a good mood come Saturday day 3 of 2009, so when a bunch of really positive smiley ‘contenstants’ burst their way onto the screen in front of me, I was dismayed. “Oh no” I thought, “not another bunch of P.E. teachers”.

First up was the blonde, bubbly and lovely Stacey who ‘can do anything if I put my mind to it!’, before skittering into the mud like Bambie on ice. Thankfully by the time she reached the wall with boxing gloves punching her in the face, her smile had disappeared and her crippled body was whimpering under the weight of carrying so much mud.

That’ll teach her for being so athletic.

Next up was a camp twat from planet drama college, who’s appearance had the worrying effect of making me smash my fist into my palm again and again and again whilst Joey looked on in shock.

However, Hammond, rather than make noises of sickening encouragement, said he was ’screaming like a little girl’. Unfortunately, even the giant red balls weren’t enough to dampen this flowery automaton’s spirit as he was still screaming and gasping like a sportsman having constant organisms of positivity. It wouldn’t last.

He was beaten soundly by a ‘kite surfer’ dude from Cornwall called Oliver, who’s incredible athletic prowess and good looks had co-presenter Amanda swooning at his every move, and Joey instantly declared that he was her new boyfriend.

Then came a rather sizeable character from university, who wore frog knickers, green leggings and was a great fan of Chesney Hawks, like all students are, because they think they’re the one and only.

Unfortunately she took a bit of a punch in the chest from the boxing glove wall and had to pull out, but not before pluckily reaching the end of the course, although she was so slow we only got to see the edited highlights. This, however was better than the black guy did, who got stuck in the mud bit at the start for 15 minutes, wading pointlessly like a fly in treacle.

Total Wipeout, then, has done for Gladiators what the Weakest Link did for rapid fire quiz shows.

Well done Richard Hammond.