What in the world could be more artificial, more dull, more utterly loathsome than a wood-effect plastic box?

In a nutshell, what's wrong with a piece of wood?

The box was clearly intended to resemble a freshly sawn chunk of two-by-four. (Or to be pedantic, two bits of two-by-two stuck together.) Here was an object to behold: an example, one among many, of our tendency to lean towards artifice.

Charade

Anyone looking at it from a distance might have been fooled into thinking it was a block of wood – solid, simple, reassuringly no-nonsense, a reminder (like holly at Christmas), of our connection to nature and clearly its intention was to give the shoe a rugged-outdoorsy edge, perhaps even to make the wearer feel a bit workmanlike and hands-on – but anyone within arms length would have been able to see through the charade.

They would determine it was, in actual fact, a plastic box made to look like wood, a cheap effect. Like imitation flowers, fake tan, boob jobs, lip jobs, stone cladding, clip-on ties.

It doesn't do what it says on the tin.

If you want to stand a shoe on a piece of wood, then stand a shoe on a piece of wood.

Wood would be cheaper, easier to come by, better for the environment, more authentic and, when all the lights do go out and we end up living in caves, we could burn it to keep warm.


A taste of father-hud


I AM shortly to become a father. After 10 years with my beloved partner, I've finally pulled it off, so-to-speak. As the bump in her tummy grows ever larger, I am experiencing a strange mixture of both excitement and fear, but I suppose this is what every parent-to-be goes through. Apparently, the young 'un can now hear my voice. Poor thing. The other day I rested my head next to the bump to speak my first words to it and my mind went completely blank (which isn't a new phenomenon). But what exactly do you say to your unborn child? In a frantic, vaguely ominous vision of my future, the only thing I could come up with was "Hi, it's your dad speaking. Now tidy up your womb." It was funny at the time.


Dawn of Das Kapitalism?


AND there I was thinking (always a mistake) we lived in a free market economy. The operative word there being 'free', ie: you let the market find its own level. Apparently not.

Apparently, we're living in a giant game of Monopoly and the Government is feverishly buying up everything in its sight.

And who is leading this charge away from gung-ho capitalism? Why, it's America, which spent most of the last 50 years championing it.

Dodgy

Before long, there will be just one bank left on the British high street and it will have so much dodgy dosh, the Government will be forced to snap it up and then, folks, we'll live in what is normally called a socialist state.

One thing we can hope for in these strange times is that bus and rail services get re-nationalised, which would be the proverbial silver lining.


Go veggie


I THINK it's worth pointing out to anyone who owns a diesel car that will take straight vegetable oil (like mine) that it is now legal – and has been since June 2007 – to pour the stuff straight into your tank.

Vegetable oil is a carbon neutral fuel (ie: it only puts back into the atmosphere the same amount of carbon dioxide as the plants took out when growing).

In fact, the Government has ruled that ordinary folks like me and thee (who are technically classed as "producers" for some reason) can use up to 2,500 litres of vegetable oil per year and not get into trouble. Check it out yourself at www.hmrc.gov.uk/briefs/excise-duty/brief4307.htm.

One caveat: check your car can take it (my Peugeot 406 TD does), don't do it in very cold weather and if all else fails, consider getting a conversion.


And finally...


THE landlord of the George and Dragon pub commissioned a sign-maker to make him a sign but then realised he wanted more space between the words George and and and and and Dragon.

Now just read that back and tell me if you think I've put enough space between and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and; and now tell me that's not a proper sentence.