(H/t Icanhascheezburger’s sister site, Ihasahotdog.com.)

I’m rather fond of David Miliband’s blogging and twittering. But his initial tweet in response to the news of Michael Foot’s death hit the wrong note:

Michael Foot led a remarkable life. I remember meeting him on the Tube in the 80s; for a famous speaker he really listened.

Erm… This is doubtless an unfortunate mash-up of well-intentioned thoughts.  The Foreign Secretary’s next tweet – about Foot’s hatred for apartheid – was back on the mark.   But it’s always a good idea not to insert oneself into tributes to others…

Yesterday, a British police dog handler was found guilty of animal cruelty after leaving his two Alsatians in the back of a boiling car. His defence? He forgot they were there.

British tabloid, the Sun is up in arms. Its headline: “Let off…Cop who left dogs to bake.” For some bizarre reason, its website has pictures from the RSPCA of each of the dead dogs.

How can someone leave two large dogs in a car by mistake? Quite easily. Because parents – doting and otherwise competent parents – do the same thing with their children more often than you’d like to think. And if the weather is hot (or cold) enough, the children die:

An otherwise loving and attentive parent one day gets busy, or distracted, or upset, or confused by a change in his or her daily routine, and just… forgets a child is in the car. It happens that way somewhere in the United States 15 to 25 times a year, parceled out through the spring, summer and early fall. The season is almost upon us.

Two decades ago, this was relatively rare. But in the early 1990s, car-safety experts declared that passenger-side front airbags could kill children, and they recommended that child seats be moved to the back of the car; then, for even more safety for the very young, that the baby seats be pivoted to face the rear. If few foresaw the tragic consequence of the lessened visibility of the child . . . well, who can blame them? What kind of person forgets a baby?

The wealthy do, it turns out. And the poor, and the middle class. Parents of all ages and ethnicities do it. Mothers are just as likely to do it as fathers. It happens to the chronically absent-minded and to the fanatically organized, to the college-educated and to the marginally literate. In the last 10 years, it has happened to a dentist. A postal clerk. A social worker. A police officer. An accountant. A soldier. A paralegal. An electrician. A Protestant clergyman. A rabbinical student. A nurse. A construction worker. An assistant principal. It happened to a mental health counselor, a college professor and a pizza chef. It happened to a pediatrician. It happened to a rocket scientist.

Last year it happened three times in one day, the worst day so far in the worst year so far in a phenomenon that gives no sign of abating.

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I don’t like cell phones.  Never have, never will.  Reading this, I like them even less:

You’re not supposed to send dirty jokes by mobile phone in China, but don’t worry: service providers have some other great, inspiring content that has the government’s enthusiastic support.

Today’s Economic Daily includes a short article on “red snippets” (红段子) the positive, uplifting text messages that are now being rolled out on a national scale after a successful five-year trial in Guangdong and a few other places.

These messages have a dual purpose: taking the place of the dirty jokes and mocking attacks on the establishment that are the focus of the latest mobile content clean-up campaign is only one half of their role. Officials from the government and major industry players are also talking about using positive SMS to build up “the spirit of Chinese culture for an Internet age,” a sort of soft power against the encroachment of vulgar American pop culture.

Xie Zhenhua, the China Mobile Communications Association official who is the public face of the project, says they’re the modern equivalent of Tang poetry or the Three Character Classic. One example cited by most articles was forwarded more than 150,000 times the year it was created: “China’s rise and the people’s prosperity: we work hand in hand toward that glorious day.”

I just thought that being a new superpower would be more, you know, fun.

“Meandering” is an excellent new-ish blog on peacekeeping and its discontents by Ed Rees, who works for the Peace Dividend Trust.  Ed recently asked readers with UN experience to contribute anonymously to a “working list of what host communities ‘pick up’ from peacekeepers” (with the important qualification that “STDs don’t count”).  Here’s a sample of the answers he’s got so far:

• A taste for double standards
• Disrespect for rule of law & due process
• Poor morals
• Poor discipline
• A poor work ethic
• A ID card fetish
• A propensity towards meaningless platitudes – ie “this is the year of development”
• A lack of accountability
• A Big Car fetish
• Having a driver to ferry one to important meetings in one’s Big Car
• Obsession with titles and status
• Posters announcing important initaitives that are adorned with many logos
• Long lunches
• Organograms
• The inability to fire people, rather selecting a move them up option
• Making “decisions by committee”, resulting in no decision
• An understanding that money derives not from labor but from being at the right place at the right time
• Keen understanding of the micro-gradations in classiness cocktail party venues
• Precise knowledge of per diem rates for international organizations

This one will run and run…

The big problem with catching Osama bin Laden is that everyone has forgotten what he looks like.  That, or he’s hiding in an ungoverned quarter of Pakistan.  One of those two.  Just in case it’s #1, the FBI has put out new photos of what the world’s most wanted man might look like today.  Here’s the FBI’s best shot of our man pre-9/11:

And here he is as he might be today… perhaps living on your street, caring for your children, or maybe just hiding out in some ungoverned corner of Pakistan:

Whoa! I mean… who’d have believed it?  Look at the guy.  It’s almost impossible to think it could be the same person.  For a start, he has got rid of the blanket over his shoulder.  And everyone (MI6, CIA) thought that the Bin-man wouldn’t go anywhere – like, for example, a well-guarded cave in an ungoverned quarter of Pakistan – without his beloved safety blanket.  He’s like Linus in Peanuts: no blanket, no identity.

And the turban!!! Where’s the cheeky bit of extra cloth flapping about? Gone. Is there nothing this man won’t do to hide his whereabouts?  He’s even started wearing (look closely) a brown shirt with a silver floral pattern!  Lucky the FBI put that photo out.  Without it, hell, anyone could have stumbled upon a well-guarded cave somewhere in, ooh, the Afghan-Pakistan border area, and met this blanket-free, small-turbaned, crap-shirted dude and thought “hey, isn’t that… no, my bad, that’s definitely not OBL. No resemblance.   Sorry about that fine sir, I’ll be on my way…”.

New York State’s constantly-on-the-ropes Governor David Paterson has just come up with an excellent plan to boost economic recovery:

Gov. Paterson is pushing to legalize ultimate fighting in New York, claiming the unrestrained mixed-martial arts events will make a quick buck for the state’s troubled economy. If he gets his wish, the cage fighting exhibitions, which have been banned in the area since 1997, could take place not only in upstate arenas but in Madison Square Garden.

The controversy over the Brazilian-inspired fighting championships began when John McCain called the blood sport “repugnant” thirteen years ago. The practice was banned in 36 states, including NY, and some reforms were adopted. The UFC introduced weight classes and gloves and made kicks to a downed opponent, hair pulling, fish-hooking, headbutting, and groin strikes illegal. The championship also dropped its “There Are No Rules!” tagline.

Now proponents claim that the PG-13 version of the ultimate fighting is appropriate and necessary. “A study done in 2008 by the Ultimate Fighting Championship organization estimated one event would generate $11.5 million in economic activity in New York City and $5.2 million in Buffalo. Ultimate Fighting Championship estimates there could be two or three events a year in New York,” according to the NY Daily News. Paterson is slated to propose the legalization in his January 19 budget announcement.

Seriously? Why stop there, Governor? If we were to boot the Mets out of their lovely new Citi Field ballpark and turn it over to Roman-style gladitorial combat – possibly involving live tigers mauling slaves - then (i) we wouldn’t have to put up with the Mets being rubbish any longer, and (ii) you’d raise way over $11.5 million.

Some unexpected data comes in from the BBC:

Of more than 1,500 Afghans questioned, 70% said they believed Afghanistan was going in the right direction – a big jump from 40% a year ago. Of those questioned, 68% now back the presence of US troops in Afghanistan, compared with 63% a year ago.

The survey was conducted in all of the country’s 34 provinces in December 2009. In 2009 only 51% of those surveyed had expected improvement and 13% thought conditions would deteriorate. But in the latest survey 71% said they were optimistic about the situation in 12 months’ time, compared with 5% who said it would be worse.

Compare that with these Gallup figures, released last week:

Sixty-three percent of Americans describe their outlook for the United States during the next 20 years as “very optimistic” or “optimistic.” Americans expressed greater optimism about the country’s future near the beginning of the 1990s and 2000s, but the current level optimism exceeds that of Americans heading into the 1980s.

So, there you go: there’s 7% more hope in Afghanistan!

We achieved the record for a ’sept places’ (seven-seater) the other day. This is considered the most luxurious form of transport in this part of West Africa. It consists of a Peugeot or Renault estate car slightly modified with an extra row of seats where the boot should be. It is designed to seat seven plus the driver.

If you are seated in the front or middle rows, it is fairly comfortable, provided of course that you don’t object to clouds of dust billowing in through the uncloseable windows, chickens pecking around your feet, or spray from the driver’s spittle occasionally flying in your face.

If you are seated in the back, however, it is less luxurious. You then have to choose either to bend your legs double in front of you so that they are folded tight against your chest (and these cars never stop during the journey, so your knees may be folded for seven hours straight, as mine were on our first sept places journey), or to put your legs on the floor and instead have your head rammed up hard against the metal ceiling. Shifting from one buttock to the other, moreover, to avoid contracting haemmorhoids from the rock-hard seats, is impossible – there is no room.

The middle row is only comfortable, of course, if the driver sticks to the 7-person limit. Often, however, he cannot resist the temptation to fit a few more in. Sometimes there are four people in a row designed to squeeze in three, turning the sept places into a neuf places. This is uncomfortable, but not the worst of all possible worlds.

The other day our driver allowed no less than 16 passengers (plus 3 chickens) into one of these cars. There were people standing up! They were leaning from the rear row over the middle row, where Ebru and I were seated with three others and the chickens. Astonishingly, nobody complained when we stopped to let in more passengers – when there are fourteen of you in a car designed for seven, after all, a couple more bodies doesn’t make that much difference.

The driver was not satisfied with our discomfort. He decided to make the journey even more challenging by giving us a demonstration of his driving skills. He seemed to have only recently passed (or bribed his way through) his driving test, for he looked extremely nervous. Sweat poured down his long hooked nose from under his white Muslim cap. He gripped the wheel tightly, and hunched over it to be closer to the road surface. Then, every time he reached down to change gear, he lost control and the car veered into the middle of the road. This behaviour provoked some complaints from the passengers; we were lucky the road was virtually deserted, so that when he regained control of the wheel we were still intact.

Near the end of the journey, a rotund, stern-looking woman passenger asks him to stop to let her out. “Where?” he asked. “At the mango tree.” The road is lined on both sides, as far as the eye can see, with mango trees. “Which one?” asks the hapless driver, gripping the wheel and staring intently ahead. “That one there, straight ahead,” the woman replies, tutting at the driver’s stupidity. He keeps driving, bemused, sweat pouring down his black robe, until she shouts, “This one! Stop!” We screech to a halt, and are down to a more comfortable 15 again…

As regular readers will know, we’re always on the lookout for the latest emerging scarcity trend – so, in keeping with the seasonal mood, here’s why your Christmas tree seemed so pricey this year:

The price of trees has risen sharply for the second consecutive year because of the combination of a Europe-wide shortage and the weak pound. A 7ft Nordmann fir – the most popular variety – could now set you back between £40 and £50, up from £30-£40 in 2007.

“It’s very much a seller’s market,” says Ian Millward, managing director of Trees for Christmas, which sells about 8,000 trees wholesale each year. This year Mr Millward sold his entire stock before December 1, two weeks earlier than usual. “It’s certainly the worst shortage I’ve known. I’ve only been able to buy a finite supply of trees,” he says.

Thrillingly, it seems that falling prices a year or two ago led to a precipitous decline in investment, setting the stage for a supply crunch… just like oil!

The supply of Nordmanns from Denmark, the largest exporter of Christmas trees within the European Union, has fallen sharply since 2005 following a steep decline in prices, which caused growers to stop planting.

Peak oil, peak water, peak food… peak Christmas? 

Happily not, dear readers: in fact, there’s a silver lining in here for Britain. You may think that we don’t export much these days other than Collateralised Debt Obligations and The X Factor. But you’d be wrong:

Not only does the weak pound raise the price of imported trees, it also makes exporting a more attractive prospect for UK growers.

Britain to the rescue! The feelgood factor returns! Unfortunately, of course, in what’s probably a taste of what’s to come on the economic front in 2010, that means fewer trees available for those of us at home.

“We used to buy a lot of trees from Scotland but we just couldn’t get any from suppliers there this year,” says Richard Doubleday, owner of Sandon Garden Centre in Chelmsford. “It seems some growers sold out their stock to European buyers because they could get a better price due to the difference in the euro and the pound.”

So, it seems you can add Christmas tree growers to the National Shit List, along with bankers and MPs. Happy Christmas!

A tragic tale from the Khaleej Times of the UAE:

At long last there is a foreign minister on the international scene with ice-cold blood in his veins and an uncomplicated, unemotional comprehension of national interest. His name is Kieren Keke. He carries the flag for Nauru, an eight-square-mile island-nation of 11,000 inhabitants in the South Pacific famous on two counts.

It is the smallest republic in the world, and its principal source of revenue was through the export of phosphates formed by bird droppings [guano]. That was undoubtedly the most valuable bird waste in history, but the republic killed the local version of the golden egg by selling more phosphate than the birds 
could drop.

When the money ran out, Nauru’s imagination blossomed. It invested millions of dollars from its national saving in a London musical. The musical flopped, wrecking the country’s bank balance. It then tried to solve Australia’s troublesome problem by providing a base for immigrants en route to the Pacific El Dorado, in return for suitable compensation. Regrettably, the refugees wanted refuge in Australia rather than amidst lost bird droppings.

But Nauru’s imagination remained fertile. In 2002 Nauru took $130 million from China to break relations with Taiwan. In 2006, presumably after this sweetener was exhausted, it reopened links with Taiwan. It is not known whether there was a financial angle to this decision, but the track record tells its own story. This year Nauru recognised Abkhazia [population: 215,000], one of two “nations” that Russia “liberated” from Georgia in 2008. The price: $50 million. Mr Keke has also paid a visit to the second region, South Ossetia, possibly with an accountant as travelling companion. The message has gone to every chancery: if the price is right, Nauru, a full member of the United Nations, will oblige.

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It’s Stevie Wonder with one of his biggest fans!

… but I think I have just discovered the greatest quotation of all time.

It is 1987. Mike Tyson is harrassing a little-known model called Naomi Campbell at a swanky drinks party in New York. Seeing a damsel in distress, who should ride to her rescue but… AJ Ayer!

Now read on:

TYSON: Do you know who the fuck I am? I’m the heavyweight champion of the world.

AYER: And I am the former Wykeham Professor of Logic. We are both pre-eminent in our field. I suggest that we talk about this like rational men.

Newsflash just in from Der Spiegel:

Copenhagen Mayor Ritt Bjerregaard sent postcards to city hotels warning summit guests not to patronize Danish sex workers during the upcoming conference. Now, the prostitutes have struck back, offering free sex to anyone who produces one of the warnings.

Copenhagen’s city council in conjunction with Lord Mayor Ritt Bjerregaard sent postcards out to 160 Copenhagen hotels urging COP15 guests and delegates to ‘Be sustainable – don’t buy sex’. “Dear hotel owner, we would like to urge you not to arrange contacts between hotel guests and prostitutes,” the approach to hotels says.

Now, Copenhagen prostitutes are up in arms, saying that the council has no business meddling in their affairs. They have now offered free sex to anyone who can produce one of the offending postcards and their COP15 identity card, according to the Web site avisen.dk.

Full marks for feistiness, tactical judgement and PR aplomb there, then. If this is any indication of the kind of screw-you approach the Danes will be taking to chairing the summit, then we’re in good hands. So to speak.