WASHED AND READY TO EAT

It's difficult to know what to make of this claim from celebrity chef Jamie Oliver. He adds greater texture to his pasta so that it 'holds more sauce'.  This begs a number of questions: Does more sauce really cling to his enhanced pasta? Is sauce being clingy really such a good thingy? And if the sauce weren't 'held' by the pasta, what disaster would befall the diner?  Surely they could just spoon it up from the plate or lick their bowl clean?  

If you were a retail store, how fussy would you be about who worked as an assistant on the shop floor? I reckon you're entitled to be choosy. After all, you probably have quite a few applicants. And these people are going to be ambassadors for your business and have direct contact with your customers. So would you be interested in a personable young woman, who's just started in the Sixth Form and is looking for a Saturday job? Someone who got eight A*s at GCSE, is currently studying for A-Levels and is bright and ambitious? A person who has already gained shop experience on a voluntary basis with a charity and has direct experience of retail customer service? Given that she'd be working for minimum wage, I'd say this was a pretty good deal, wouldn't you? But when one of my daughters recently applied for a part-time role advertised at Boots, she couldn't even get an interview. Why? She was rejected on the basis of bizarre online tests. The first set of ...

The decision by Transport for London to encourage people to talk to each other on the tube has met with understandable derision from citizens of the Smoke. The first rule of the UK capital - and the very glue that holds together its social fabric - is that no one makes conversation. Or eye contact preferably. If you are feeling remotely tempted to wear one of the new badges that signals your willingness to engage in idle banter ('Baby, I'm Bored'), here are some suggestions to help suppress your urges. It's a process a Hampstead psychotherapist would call sublimation and it can come in very useful. 1. Isn't there another level of Candy Crush you could aim for? 2. If that's not your type of crush, go back and and re-read Rush Hour Crush in the Metro . 3. See if you can find a mouse on the platform or tracks. Hold a conversation with them instead. 4. Ostentatiously do your make-up - a process which can often last quite happily from Theydon Bois ...

Mother Teresa of Calcutta is in the news at the moment, as she’s been elevated by the Vatican to sainthood. I admit that I’m not fully up to speed with the criteria for canonisation, so I’ve visited the Saints for Dummies web page to check whether Jeremy Corbyn also qualifies. (It’s written by a couple of priests, so it must be kosher.) My mission has been prompted by the way in which some of Jez’s loyal supporters talk about him online. Take this example, for instance, of someone writing to the bizarre Corbynista blog Vox Political and comparing the Islington North MP to the author J K Rowling. The Harry Potter author is noted as having the ‘Judas Trait’ about her, which stands in stark contrast to the Labour Leader.  The correspondent notes that Mr Corbyn is a man ‘who did not let fame go to his head and instead, rather than paying lip service to human suffering, was actually willing to do something to alleviate it’. It’s certainly a touching portrait of a...

Traingate is the kind of political flashpoint that has all the hallmarks of a peculiarly British farce.   The Leader of Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition camps out on the floor of a Virgin carriage making a propaganda film about nationalising the railways. He claims his predicament is due to overcrowding, but the billionaire entrepreneur who owns the train company (and presumably doesn’t much like the idea of nationalisation) releases CCTV footage to show that there were, in fact, empty seats. And from that starting point, what’s our ultimate destination? Who the hell knows? But we have all kinds of fantastic station stops to visit along the way. Perhaps the empty seats were reserved? Maybe they had bags on them? Or young kids? It may have been that Jez was keen to spend time with Mrs Corbyn III, but couldn’t find a double berth in which to chit-chat about his anti-austerity policies. The train, according to Mr Corbyn, was ‘ram packed’. But when aides tried to con...

I remember visiti ng Gruyères in Switzerland some years ago – home to that rather tasty cheese you can buy in upmarket stores. It was an extraordinarily well-preserved medieval town, crammed with history and atmosphere. But somehow or other, it had managed to transform itself into a theme park, complete with shops selling toy cows that yodelled when you pressed a button. It would be a little harsh to say that Èze – a heavily-marketed village in southern France – has enveloped itself in Swiss cheese too. But it’s surely just a yodel away. The tumbling, ramshackled and ancient streets spiral around a hill. It’s a little like a miniature version of the neighbouring Principality of Monaco, as no matter which way you turn, you end up in the same place over and over again. But instead of superyachts, casinos and Russian oligarchs, Èze boasts endless shops and eateries – each catering in one way or another for the tourists that it attracts. Every nook contains a nick-nack tha...

The picture painted of the typical Brexit voter is of an angry, disenchanted individual in Labour’s working-class heartlands or a brash right-winger at a market stall in a place like Romford.   I’m sure many do fall into these categories. My hunch, however, is that your average ‘Leave’ supporter is someone far more nondescript and anonymous. They live in a fairly decent house in a little modern development, somewhere a few miles outside a moderate-sized town. They drive to work along the same stretch of motorway each morning and complain endlessly about the traffic they encounter near Junction 8. They usually bring a packed lunch, but occasionally nip out to Morrisons at lunchtime. They try not to spend more than £3.99 and like meal deals. They don’t find their job hugely exciting, but they like the people they work with. There’s a Fantasy Football league and last year half a dozen fellow employees travelled down to London to see a show. There are one o...

Reality TV is a genre that truly has no boundaries. Like the universe, it can only expand endlessly until eventually, one day, it collapses in on itself. We've seen reality TV shows about animals. And we've seen plenty which challenge people to try things they've never done before. But a show which challenges canine contestants to fly a plane? It was thought to be outside the Hubble bubble. Until now. This week, I watched the culmination of the Sky TV show Dogs Might Fly , which ended with a pitbull cross managing to execute a figure of eight in UK airspace. The mutts involved in the selection process - who were all rescue animals - went through an arduous training course involving makeshift simulators on the ground. Lifted up in a harness to prevent them putting too much weight on their front paws, the dogs were taught through Pavlovian-style rewards to turn the steering wheel left and right. The would-be Luftwoofe pilots were then acclimatised to the turbulence of ...

Two stories from different sides of the Atlantic recently highlighted how crime fighting and investigation really can be child's play. In the UK, cops in Surrey were astonished when a group of kids formed a human arrow to point a police helicopter in the direction of two alleged criminals. As the suspects in a farm burglary case made their way across fields to escape the arm of the law, the enterprising youngsters laid themselves on the ground to act as a signal. All it took was a quick radio message from the chopper and the fleeing men were apprehended. As a number of commentators have pointed out, it seems like something straight out of Enid Blyton's Famous Five or Secret Seven stories, to which I was addicted as a kid.  It's true to say that choppers didn't feature much in Blyton. Her young sleuths were from a bygone era in which the village bobby would have been plodding by on his pushbike. And the arrow kids from Capel were on an Easter egg hunt in the...

The desperate ploys of estate agents always amuse me.   One has stuck a letter through the door at Woodford Towers with the message that they are valuing in my street this week. My God! They're actually in MY road. This week! I'd better act while the iron's hot.  You know how it is with estate agents. They're a bit like Google Street View. Once they've done your area, they won't come back for two or three years. 'I was hoping you might be able to value my house.' 'Nah, sorry, mate. We did your street three weeks ago. Didn't you get our letter?' I think they need to be more precise. When exactly are they in the street? During office hours? 24/7 for the duration of the week? Or are they like Mr Softee, playing a tune and parking up for a couple of minutes at the end of the road?

The news that left-wing Labour Leader Jeremy Corbyn draws inspiration from the 1980s will come as no surprise to followers of British politics. It was, however, quite special to discover that some of his conference speech this week was actually written in the days of Bananarama and Frankie Goes To Hollywood. According to press reports, the north London socialist had drawn on text from a speechwriter who'd touted the same blurb to every party boss since Neil Kinnock, only to have it rejected. It's difficult to imagine the conversation between Corbyn and his aides, isn't it? 'We've found the perfect form of words here, boss.' 'Excellent. Can you feed them into this new-fangled autocue thing?' 'Well, there are a couple of problems.' 'What do you mean?' 'Well, first of all, it's in Wordstar. And second, we can't find anything to read the five-inch floppy.'

Forgive me, but I not sure I want to get my travel money from a fishmonger. It doesn't sound very hygienic.

My local UKIP candidate, Barry Edwards, opens his leaflet with four powerful words: 'I am a Scientist...' (The upper case his Barry's. For Emphasis.) His profession apparently means that he believes in the 'rigorous scrutiny of information'. So far, so good. We look forward to a level of perspicacity so often lacking in our would-be politicians. 'I know that the other parties are untrustworthy and have lost touch with people,' writes the aspiring MP, no doubt on the basis of extensive scientific research. 'I understand that over-population produced mainly by excessive EU migration is the underlying cause of increasing pressure on our housing, NHS, education, elderly provision and all other social services.' The underlying cause? So science has proved that our housing crisis is the result of immigration? It couldn't possibly have anything at all to do with the fact we haven't built any houses, could it? Or that prices have been ...

A glossy magazine has arrived on the doorstep of Woodford Towers. Strangely, it's not the one that appears every month with ads for all the private prep schools and multi-million pound properties. This one is produced by Mabel Gray on behalf of a company called Jack Brunsdon & Son, which has been installing windows and doors for half a century. As you can imagine, the editors confirm that it has been 'fun bringing this magazine together' and a quick glance at the contents page explains why. Page 10: 'We replaced our PVC windows with timber ones...' Page 13: Which paint finish will you choose? Page 14:  Focus on the new greys - today's popular shades It's clear that I need to set a weekend aside for this. I'll file it between GQ and Take a Break.

Kirk: ‘Spock… there…must be…a…scientific explanation!’ Spock: ‘I confess, Captain, that on this occasion, I am at a loss to explain the phenomenon.’ Kirk: ‘It’s a dress, which I can see is quite clearly white and gold. And yet...’ Spock: ‘…and yet, the sensors say that is blue and black. It defies logic. Like you, I see only white and gold.’ Uhura: ‘Captain?’ Kirk: ‘Yes, Lieutenant?’ Uhuru: ‘I see blue and black. And there are people on Tumblr saying that I should try it on!’ Spock: ‘WTF?’

There's nothing I like more than a free invitation and estate agents seem to understand this only too well. Taking advantage of my eye for a bargain, they're always inviting me to have my house valued gratis.  This extraordinary generosity stands in stark contrast to exploitation of the countless charlatans and tricksters who will quite happily charge hundreds of pounds just to tell me what my property might be worth. I tell these chancers in no uncertain terms that I won't tolerate their exorbitant valuation fees, when other kindly agents are issuing invitations for FREE. You have to be careful with estate agents these days though. In the December edition of a glossy mag called South West, which I picked up on a train, there's a profile of a couple of guys from a posh London firm. One of them has been drafted in from the military. Talking about the dangers of being on the front line of the property war in Barnes, he says: 'In the Marines, we used to have a saying: ...

What do you get when cross a new Vauxhall with an overdressed ostrich? The answer is an advertisement which cannot be successfully decoded by a whole room full of marketers, designers and copywriters. I was teaching part of an art direction class the other day at Chelsea College of Arts and have to admit that we collectively drew a blank. According to the copy, the Vauxhall ADAM is as individual as you are.  Let's say, for instance, you were an ostrich with a penchant for wearing heels and jewellery. Well, the car would be an ideal match. I am wondering whether the bird represents Eve, as we are told that 'whatever your personality, there's an ADAM for you'. Is the typical driver therefore a woman, who craves the ultimate security of an archetypal man? The kind of modern guy who dresses in red like you and impresses your mother with his carbon emissions of only 124g/km? This idea is unfortunately blown out of the water by the small print. 'Animal not included,' ...

Adult Swim's 'Too Many Cooks' has just taken the internet by storm. And if ever there were a video that deserved to go viral, this is it. The painstaking attention to detail and effort here suggest a real labour of love.

If you thought that you'd have to wait until 2161 to apply for Starfleet Academy, I have some good news. The Federation has kindly beamed it down to West London a century and a half before its scheduled opening. Space Studio is an 'Aspirations Academy', which prepares kids for careers in the aerospace and space industries. For the moment, the former probably offers a few more real-world opportunities than the latter, although that could all change after April 5th 2063, when we have first contact with the Vulcans. It's not Zefram Cochrane we have to thank for this initiative, but rather Dr Russell Quaglia, who - according to the website blurb - developed the Aspirations Framework to 'unlock students (sic) unending academic, personal and social potential'. Although there's sadly no mention of the prime directive, there are three guiding principles of 'self-worth, engagement and purpose', which are 'lived out through 8 conditions that make ...

London estate agent Haart (tagline, 'Haart is where the home is') has taken to advertising its properties with a degree of panache. Eschewing the boring conventions of property postings, the company adds headlines to each listing. A maisonette in Crystal Palace is 'Perfect the Way It Is!', while you can just 'Plug in and Play' at the well-presented, £450k, two-bed flat in Merton Road SW18. 'Project in the Grid' sounds rather less inviting. Are the buyers supposed to have  electrical engineering skills? Is south London actually part of the Matrix and we are on a mission to escape? The headline will, however, make perfect sense to those with intimate knowledge of Southfields. 'The Grid' is a network of upmarket local roads, which - in estate agent parlance - are much sought-after. The 'project' is doing the gaff up, as it's 'in need of modernisation'.