GNER: Idiots

GNER are running a promotion for cheap off-peak fares (Only £25 for London-Edinburgh). As I am having to face the prospect of running up to Edinburgh at some point soon to sort out where I’m going to live when I do my Masters, I thought I’d check it out.

Now, a sensible company running a website and online booking system would surely orientate the system so that it would tell you which trains these nice cheap fares are available on. Instead, you have to enter random dates and times and wait for the frustratingly slow interface to tell you whether there are cheap tickets available for then. After much pissing about, I think that there are no tickets on the days I want for the next 2-3 weeks, but I can’t be sure. I’m going to have to ring them tomorrow to make sure. :-( So much for easy online booking.

“What a strange, sad, hot dog-scented little man you are”

I don’t know why but Lost In Translation: The trailer we’d like to see (via Sore Eyes), though quite sarky, tickled my funny bone.

Update: Speaking of hot dogs, the talk of town at the moment is this hot dog advert (WMV, several MBs) which basically consists of a bloke saying the word “girthy” over and over again – which has provoked a Slate article speculating on its homoerotic aspects. I don’t think it’s anything to do with that, it’s probably because they’re running out of ways of distracting you from what the sausages are actually made out of.

Olympic omens

While in London this weekend I popped by Borough Market to do some shopping. As I was walking down Borough High Street, all of a sudden half a dozen police motorcycles charged down the street and started blocking off traffic, which was all a bit mysterious and scary-looking, until a friendly person in a Samsung T-shirt told me that the Olympic torch run was passing through the area. Not for the first time I wished I had bought the camera attachment for my mobile phone.

Eventually the torch arrived, but it got held up by a bus stuck in the way of the TV van that was covering proceedings. Cue all the policemen on motorcycles (who were absolutely loving it, zooming up and down and empty street) swarming about attempting to get it out of the torch bearer’s way, but with not much clue as to how to do it. The words “piss up” and “brewery” came to mind, and it was a good 5-10 minutes before they managed to escort it out of the way and give the bearer safe passage. Not really confidence-boosting, if we can’t organise one day of a torch run to go smoothly, then how can we hope to host the entire damn Games?