Edited by David Smith, Wednesday, 2 Nov 2011, 14:17
Anyone else been watching ‘Origins of Us’ on BBC2? Good, wasn’t it? Thing is, though, as the series has progressed I’ve been struck increasingly by the fact that Professor ‘Alice Roberts’ has exactly the same mannerisms and delivery as that other recent BBC professorial discovery, Brian Cox. The same constant, confident, welcoming smile, the cheeky glint (and sunlight squint) in the eye, the expressive hand gestures, the slow, laconic – dare I say, given Mr Cox’s Madchester musical background, ‘chilled’ – delivery and the same flirty and intimate ‘straight to camera’ didactic dialogue. In fact, with the sole distinction of the Manc accent (which would, let’s face it, be a complete giveaway) it would be difficult to tell one from the other were it not for the fact that one is a blonde and ‘sturdy’ (in the nicest sense of the word) female and the other a somewhat slight, dark haired male.
All in all it’s a very convincing make-up job. Incredibly convincing, in fact, because, as far as the lovely Alice is concerned , I definitely, if I didn’t know better, ‘would’ (and before any feminists out there jump on that as sexually inappropriate I would ask, in my defence, how many laydees haven’t made precisely the same observation regarding Mr Cox, and offer that the ‘sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander’ rule is still entirely appropriate and applicable – if equality is the agenda rather than role reversal – even in the oversensitive noughties and teenies. So there!) in the unlikely event of an offer ever being forthcoming. She has a lovely skull too – very large brain pan and minimal brow ridge – which has got to be a plus for an anthropologist as well as being aesthetically easy on the eye.
Brilliant series, even if I’ve never fully grasped the significance of the larger brain pan in relation to intelligence and evolution, given all the scientific evidence to suggest that we only use around 10% of our brain while the other ninety percent is pretty much just pâté. I mean, logically, if I had a head the size of an orange and a brain the size of a walnut I could still, potentially, have the same capacity for intelligence as the rest of the human race providing I was using my ‘walnut’ at full capacity? (NB: anyone making cynical comments about a ‘bighead’ AND a walnut sized brain really should be ashamed of themselves, both in terms of their predictability and their capacity for ‘snitticism’.) One other thing that struck me was the fact that while Alice covered all of the other variants of the Homo Genus when she showed us her bush (I quote ‘not a big enough diagram to be considered a tree’) – i.e. Homo Erectus (fnar fnar), Homo Heidelbergensis, Homo Neanderthalensis etc – she made no mention of Homo Erotic, as so regularly featured in discussions regarding the film careers of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost.
Yesterday, I went for an MRI scan. No, not my brain and yes, they would have found one if it had been a brain scan (see parenthesis above regarding predictability and snitticism). It was actually my foot, well ankle to be precise, which gives me considerable gyp in the mornings, after long walks, short runs (VERY short runs these days – usually related to toileting or catching buses) and other athletic endeavours ;).
For anyone who hasn’t had an MRI scan – as I hadn’t prior to yesterday’s – you wait in a waiting room for several hours dressed in a pale blue ‘leesure suit’ wondering if you’ve been forgotten, then are taken to another room where you lie on a bed mounted in front of a giant white doughnut ( a bit like ‘stargate’, but I was assured I wouldn’t be whisked to another dimension) while a nurse encases the area to be scanned in a series of plastic strap-ons designed to ‘focus the rays’ of photons or whatever they are on the afflicted tissues. In my case, of course, it was a simple boot over the foot, but I imagine it could get quite claustrophobic if i.e. you were faced with the equivalent of a bucket over the head, as the scanning process takes a considerable amount of time and several passes. She gave me some ear plugs and suggested I insert them as the machine is very noisy. I did so, and she then offered me a pair of headphones and asked if I would like to listen to some music.
‘WHAT?’ I shouted, taking the earplugs back out again.
‘Would you like to listen to some music’ she asked again.
‘Is there any point, with the earplugs?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘you’ll still be able to hear it,’ a statement that revealed both a major flaw in the design of the earplugs as well as my own capacity for melodrama and exaggeration (think about it ;)).
I said I would like music, but if it was Coldplay I would be suing. What I actually got was Morcheeba, which was not much better but at least had Skye’s vocals as a redeeming feature. When the machine started I found I needn’t have bothered with music after all, as the strange twangs, beeps, whistles and grumblings it gave off completely drowned out everything. To be honest, the twangs, beeps, whistles and grumblings weren’t half bad – if they’d overlaid a four-to-the-floor kick, some hi-hats and a 303 bassline I would have happily (despite my Achilles heel of an ankle) danced all afternoon, which might have made for a more enjoyable scan but would have probably been quite blurry (not Damon Albarn ‘blurry’, distorted blurry, you silly sossidge).
All in all it was quite a relaxing experience as hospital visits go, but I’m now a little bit worried about the thick, black hairs that are growing out of my leg. I didn’t notice the fly until after the scan and the nurse assured me that it was ‘nothing to worry about’, but I can’t help thinking it’s a bit of a coincidence... Haven’t started craving dog poo yet, but I was a little bit sick after eating my breakfast... I’ll keep you posted.
Oh – a heads up to two GARJUSS babies I saw while I was there. They were twins called Oscar and Sienna and were just two months old. I pointed out to their mum that if they changed the ‘n’s in Sienna for ‘r’s she and her partner would have two call signs, and could devote the rest of their lives to producing the other 24. I don’t think she was Catholic, though, as she didn’t seem too impressed with the idea. Oscar was a (handsome) big bruiser and almost completely bald and Sienna was petit and pretty with a huge shock of jet black hair. I did the usual bloke thing of staring at their tiny fingers and marvelling at their perfection and generally felt all whatever the male equivalent of ‘broody’ is. Anybody want to make a baby? Go on, I’ll look after it...
Ladyboys & MRI Scans
Anyone else been watching ‘Origins of Us’ on BBC2? Good, wasn’t it? Thing is, though, as the series has progressed I’ve been struck increasingly by the fact that Professor ‘Alice Roberts’ has exactly the same mannerisms and delivery as that other recent BBC professorial discovery, Brian Cox. The same constant, confident, welcoming smile, the cheeky glint (and sunlight squint) in the eye, the expressive hand gestures, the slow, laconic – dare I say, given Mr Cox’s Madchester musical background, ‘chilled’ – delivery and the same flirty and intimate ‘straight to camera’ didactic dialogue. In fact, with the sole distinction of the Manc accent (which would, let’s face it, be a complete giveaway) it would be difficult to tell one from the other were it not for the fact that one is a blonde and ‘sturdy’ (in the nicest sense of the word) female and the other a somewhat slight, dark haired male.
All in all it’s a very convincing make-up job. Incredibly convincing, in fact, because, as far as the lovely Alice is concerned , I definitely, if I didn’t know better, ‘would’ (and before any feminists out there jump on that as sexually inappropriate I would ask, in my defence, how many laydees haven’t made precisely the same observation regarding Mr Cox, and offer that the ‘sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander’ rule is still entirely appropriate and applicable – if equality is the agenda rather than role reversal – even in the oversensitive noughties and teenies. So there!) in the unlikely event of an offer ever being forthcoming. She has a lovely skull too – very large brain pan and minimal brow ridge – which has got to be a plus for an anthropologist as well as being aesthetically easy on the eye.
Brilliant series, even if I’ve never fully grasped the significance of the larger brain pan in relation to intelligence and evolution, given all the scientific evidence to suggest that we only use around 10% of our brain while the other ninety percent is pretty much just pâté. I mean, logically, if I had a head the size of an orange and a brain the size of a walnut I could still, potentially, have the same capacity for intelligence as the rest of the human race providing I was using my ‘walnut’ at full capacity? (NB: anyone making cynical comments about a ‘bighead’ AND a walnut sized brain really should be ashamed of themselves, both in terms of their predictability and their capacity for ‘snitticism’.) One other thing that struck me was the fact that while Alice covered all of the other variants of the Homo Genus when she showed us her bush (I quote ‘not a big enough diagram to be considered a tree’) – i.e. Homo Erectus (fnar fnar), Homo Heidelbergensis, Homo Neanderthalensis etc – she made no mention of Homo Erotic, as so regularly featured in discussions regarding the film careers of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost.
Yesterday, I went for an MRI scan. No, not my brain and yes, they would have found one if it had been a brain scan (see parenthesis above regarding predictability and snitticism). It was actually my foot, well ankle to be precise, which gives me considerable gyp in the mornings, after long walks, short runs (VERY short runs these days – usually related to toileting or catching buses) and other athletic endeavours ;).
For anyone who hasn’t had an MRI scan – as I hadn’t prior to yesterday’s – you wait in a waiting room for several hours dressed in a pale blue ‘leesure suit’ wondering if you’ve been forgotten, then are taken to another room where you lie on a bed mounted in front of a giant white doughnut ( a bit like ‘stargate’, but I was assured I wouldn’t be whisked to another dimension) while a nurse encases the area to be scanned in a series of plastic strap-ons designed to ‘focus the rays’ of photons or whatever they are on the afflicted tissues. In my case, of course, it was a simple boot over the foot, but I imagine it could get quite claustrophobic if i.e. you were faced with the equivalent of a bucket over the head, as the scanning process takes a considerable amount of time and several passes. She gave me some ear plugs and suggested I insert them as the machine is very noisy. I did so, and she then offered me a pair of headphones and asked if I would like to listen to some music.
‘WHAT?’ I shouted, taking the earplugs back out again.
‘Would you like to listen to some music’ she asked again.
‘Is there any point, with the earplugs?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘you’ll still be able to hear it,’ a statement that revealed both a major flaw in the design of the earplugs as well as my own capacity for melodrama and exaggeration (think about it ;)).
I said I would like music, but if it was Coldplay I would be suing. What I actually got was Morcheeba, which was not much better but at least had Skye’s vocals as a redeeming feature. When the machine started I found I needn’t have bothered with music after all, as the strange twangs, beeps, whistles and grumblings it gave off completely drowned out everything. To be honest, the twangs, beeps, whistles and grumblings weren’t half bad – if they’d overlaid a four-to-the-floor kick, some hi-hats and a 303 bassline I would have happily (despite my Achilles heel of an ankle) danced all afternoon, which might have made for a more enjoyable scan but would have probably been quite blurry (not Damon Albarn ‘blurry’, distorted blurry, you silly sossidge).
All in all it was quite a relaxing experience as hospital visits go, but I’m now a little bit worried about the thick, black hairs that are growing out of my leg. I didn’t notice the fly until after the scan and the nurse assured me that it was ‘nothing to worry about’, but I can’t help thinking it’s a bit of a coincidence... Haven’t started craving dog poo yet, but I was a little bit sick after eating my breakfast... I’ll keep you posted.
Oh – a heads up to two GARJUSS babies I saw while I was there. They were twins called Oscar and Sienna and were just two months old. I pointed out to their mum that if they changed the ‘n’s in Sienna for ‘r’s she and her partner would have two call signs, and could devote the rest of their lives to producing the other 24. I don’t think she was Catholic, though, as she didn’t seem too impressed with the idea. Oscar was a (handsome) big bruiser and almost completely bald and Sienna was petit and pretty with a huge shock of jet black hair. I did the usual bloke thing of staring at their tiny fingers and marvelling at their perfection and generally felt all whatever the male equivalent of ‘broody’ is. Anybody want to make a baby? Go on, I’ll look after it...
Pulleeeze?
:D