What Kind Of Week Has It Been? 9 August 2013

What Kind Of Week Has It Been? 9 August 2013

The Doctor will see us now. And in quite some style too, with Zoe Ball presenting a half hour long "get to the bloody point!" tee-up show for the announcement that Peter Capaldi is the twelfth man to jump into the (Galli) fray. The time before it was a televised vignette announcing Matt Smith's arrival, the time before that for Tennant it was all but a folded classroom note. But such is the show's galloping popularity by the next, crucial 13th reincarnation, it will probably be the climax of an all-day concert, with sets by Cybermen Without Hats, or Dalek-tric Light Orchestra. Ahem.

The Dr Who hashtags rather blew the much-vaunted Twitter silence out of the water on Sunday, although that was much for the ill-conceived concept as the morbid sci-fi curiosity. Much less controversial and edifying was the hashtag #inspiringwomen, which profiled, well, inspiring women.

Meanwhile beyond the reach of Twitter trolls in the undergrounds of London they found something so gruesome that even The Doctor might struggle to vanquish it: A 15 ton fatberg clogging up the sewers of south west London. A fatberg. It was so terrible, they had to come up with a whole new name for it. Maybe build ups like this won't exist when burgers are made in labs.

From fifteen tonnes of English fat to half a rood of English-owned rock now, specifically The Rock. No, not that Rock. Or that one. Or that one. Look, it's Gibraltar, OK!

Yeah, it turns out that the Falklands isn't the only old British territory recently where things have been kicking off, as a concrete reef and the right to fish have kicked a hornet's nest that dates back to when Lord Nelson was but a glint in his father's intact eyes. Oh, and that whole Falklands thing is still happening too.

Down at the coast of Atlas the right to fish might be the mushroom cloud, but in Limerick all sorts of hassle is being caused by duck. Jesus, I'm hungry now.

A Fianna Fáil candidate for Limerick City Council has claimed that Chinese fishermen are taking ducks from rivers and wetlands and giving them to Chinese restaurants. They've probably been nicking from the cucumber plants and the hoi sin sauce fountain too.

Over in the States, the NRA are setting their sights on animals too (not in the hunting sense, although yes in the hunting sense too) as a host of animal rights groups, NGO and zoos have coalesced to fight the effect of bullets leading to lead poison in habitats. It says a lot about how index linked to the moon the NRA that they can count zoos as an enemy.

The NRA don't appear to have any beef with Bongo Bongo Land, but if they fancied taking their arsenal for a spin, they'd find an eager general in Godfrey Bloom, MEP. His party UKIP have told him not to use that phrase anymore, as some of the foreigns might get a bit prickly about it, heavens knows why. Bloom's defence? He was just repeating the opinions of the lads down the cricket club. Probably not the cricket clubs in Lahore, mind.

From cricket to football, and while it looks increasingly likely Gareth Bale will go off to the fight for the Nationalists in the Clasico Civil War, Radio 5 Live have signed up a woman, Charlotte Green, to read the venerable classified football results. Let's hope we don't have any numskull commentators wondering whether she can say East Fife 4, Forfar 5.

On graver sporting news, the Winter Olympics next year stands to be blighted by the sort of issue sport is supposed to soar above: a flagrant and capricious law removing gay people's rights to be...well, that's it exactly. Ironic, when you consider the country is run by the personification of the Top Gun volleyball scene. Enter Stephen Fry's much disseminated open-letter, where he draws the lines between now and the hateful spectre of the Nazi Olympics in Berlin in 1936. Hopefully, in the next Olympics, we have a gay athlete who can do for today what Jesse Owens did for black athletes in 1936. And hopefully it doesn't happen in Sochi.


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