Kitten that looks like Hitler - a classic bill

Here's another newspaper bill to add to our collection, courtesy of Wherryman's Web. It's a cracker too ... I would defy you not to have bought the Cambridge Evening News on that particular day. You might be disappointed with the pictures though. Unless I'm missing something, it's just a cat with a black nose. 
Previous newspaper bill items can be found here, here and here. 

Is Jaguar launching an SUV in 2015 ?

Here's a first look at a potential Jaguar SUV which might hit the market in 2015.   Auto enthusiast suggest that the vehicle will be built on the same platform as the Range Rover Evoque and be an all wheel-drive model powered by a 240 HP 2.0-liter turbocharged 4-cylinder engine.  Diesel options may also be available.

Ahhh the fragrance but it is what is inside that counts

Have you ever been to your local airport, on a hot summers day to watch the frenetic activity on the apron as aircraft after aircraft are unloaded and despatched or perhaps you've been jawing in a old hanger long past it's best, telling tales about 'there I was upside down', when you catch on the air a something, a hint, a fragrance, the scent that stops you mid sentence ..... the delightful and unique smell of hot turbine exhaust gas - burnt Jet A-1 or Kerosene to the uninitiated. There is nothing, absolutely nothing quite like it to throw your mind back to dreamy boy-hood days of Viscounts & Heralds engines whining nose twitching as they spool up, glass landings on the

Jamuna (aka Brahmaputra) River alongside the Jibon Tari Floating Hospital, turbine gases wafting in the open window in the shimmering tropical heat or the sweaty unloading of life saving plumpey nuts to the creaking of a cooling exhaust in Southern Sudan.



Have you wondered what it is though that makes this mind transporting 'drug'. Well it is a rather expensive piece of kit, called a PT-6, this is a turbine engine bolted behind the prop, as shown below.
It operates to the very scientific formula of
                                 Turbine + Fuel = Noise + More Noise + Aircraft Movement  + Fragrance
A remarkable piece of very reliable equipment not so dissimilar to Frank Whittles prototype of some 74 years ago.
Funnily most people like to board a nice shiny aircraft and don't give much thought to what goes on on the inside, tis true to say that generally speaking if you look after the outside then probably you are also looking after the inside but actually in aviation it is what is on the inside that truly counts. We love our engineers as they are very thorough, picky and do a great job - no one wants an engineer to rush or take short-cuts. Actually what is on the inside is really important to the pilot and not just mechanically but what we carry....
                     
You know though there was a man who was a great believer in the statement that it is, what goes on on the inside that really counts. 
I have recently just enjoyed a great book about this remarkable man written by Eugene Peterson and called The Message well worth a read.
So next time you catch the fragrance of those glorious exhaust fumes remember 
1.we cannot neglect what goes on inside of us either 
2.sometimes we need a spot of maintenance
3.we need to make sure that what we carry around with us on the inside is useful and perhaps jettison some of the junk!
.

VACANCES 2011



Eren les quatre de la tarda quan va baixar la maleta de dalt l’armari. Era la vella maleta vermella. Va obrir l’armari, però no es va concentrar en quin seria la roba més idònia, doncs les prediccions meteorològiques no acabaven de predir si faria fred o calor. El seu pensament estava lluny. És preguntava si quan tornés d’aquells dies de vacances el seu estat d’ànim seria diferent. Sentia al seu interior una petita ombra de dol. Li sorgien alguns dubtes i alguns interrogants. Va tancar l’armari. Havia decidit que l’equipatge seria lleuger.
A l’obrir la maleta es va preguntar si havia tingut sempre el cap ple d’ocells i si encara continuava essent un romàntic ideològic al que no havien aconseguit segrestrat del tot els ipods, les blackberrys i tota la teranyina de xarxes socials; encara sentia la necessitat de gaudir amb la lectura d’un llibre a prop del mar; paladejar detingudament els sabors dels aliments naturals; deixar-se seduir per la mirada d’uns ulls cristal•lins; descobrir la curiositat avançant per paisatges desconeguts; sentir renovada la força dels sentits, dels instints i dels ideals.
Abans de tancar la maleta, va ficar doblegada la samarreta vermella, aquella que portava escrit el nom de Badalona i estava plena de roses blanques; era la samarreta identitària de la seva ciutat i de la seva ideologia esquerrana.
Mirar el cel, sentir el cant dels ocells, veure les papallones volar, badar, dialogar sobre la brevetat de la vida, li donarien força per iniciar el setembre amb forces i il•lusions renovades.

The Wealth Gap Widens Between Whites And Minorities Increases

According to U.S. Census data analyzed by the Pew Research Center, the media net worth of a white family now stands at 20 times that of a Black family and 18 times that of a Hispanic family, roughly twice the gap that existed in 1984.  The average wealth of white U.S. households in 2009 was $113,149, compared with with $6,325 for Hispanics and $5,677 for African Americans.  
Here's why according to the Pew researcher Rakesh Kochhar:


"The bursting of the housing bubble in the great recession has been much harder on minority households than on white households.  White households have been more diversified -- they are more likely to own stocks and bonds."
Between 2005 and 2009, the median net worth of Hispanic households dropped by 66 percent and that of black households fell by 53 percent, according to the report. In contrast, the median net worth of white households dropped by only 16 percent. 


“The lopsided wealth ratios are the largest since the government began publishing such data a quarter century ago,” said the report, “Wealth Gaps Rise to Record Highs Between Whites, Blacks and Hispanics.”


In non-racial financial news, between 2005 and 2009 the wealthiest 10% of households went from owning 49% to 56% of American wealth.

Postals de Porto (II)
















Postal de Porto (I)

Going weekly may be the answer for more dailies

The Torquay Herald Express's move to a weekly paper this weekend has been a big success. It weighed in at 192 pages, was packed with local content and, judging by the adverts, made some decent money. On Friday the sales department was considering an extra print run as the paper rapidly sold 30,000 copies. Its average sale as a daily was 21,112. It's an impressive first issue. The content is neatly structured with dedicated sections on News (30 pages), People, What's On, Nostalgia, Business and 13 pages of Sport. The red meat comes in the form of letters and opinion, ten pages of letters, columnists, readers' pictures and platforms for local people. The daily breaking news and sports service for Torbay still exists ... on a revamped thisissouthdevon website. Congratulations to editor Andy Phelan and his team. I was happy to lend a hand on the design, marketing and strategy but the real work was done locally. They created a paper they believed in, that they knew would work for their community - and it has paid off. It's early days of course and they will have to sustain this quality each week but they are a professional and committed outfit,  so no reason to suggest they won't.
The Scunthorpe
 Telegraph announces its
weekly intentions
 
Next up is the Scunthorpe Telegraph, which will make the change to weekly on August 18. Editor Mel Cook is preparing a 140-page first edition. The early dummies suggest it will be a stylish newspaper rammed with local content. One thing is certain. The Scunthorpe Telegraph  won't be the last ... and nor should it be. In my outlook for 2011 in InPublishing magazine in January, I predicted there would be fewer evening papers by the end of the year. I wrote: "A weekly analysis of events, complementing a comprehensive, hyperlocal digital news service, is more relevant than a daily print offering out-of-date news." Great prediction? Not really; it's glaringly obvious. The only surprise is that, when the Bath Chronicle successfully turned weekly in 2007, more newspapers didn't follow suit then. In the current InPublishing, Steve Dyson lists evening titles that he believes are ripe to go weekly. The industry is certainly watching the changes at the two Northcliffe papers with interest.
The transition, of course, is not without cost. There have been job losses and some people will miss their evening paper (although 'evening' became a misnomer some years ago). But the halcyon days when each medium-sized community in the UK might have justified its own daily newspaper, days when advertisers and readers had nowhere else to go, are gone.
The change to weekly is really about longevity. It's about turning evening newspapers that are losing sale and revenue at alarming rates into viable long-term businesses before they crash to earth. It is inevitable that in some smaller communities, six-day-a-week publications will become increasingly less viable. But the key to any change to weekly is that the new paper has to be substantial and of real quality. Filling a fatter paper with rewritten Press Releases and overblown what's on entries will just accelerate its decline. Think of the Sunday model, rather than the local shopperIt's also important to stress that this isn't a one size fits all solution. In some places the daily model still has legs. But I would be surprised if the managements at all daily papers selling under 25,000 aren't seriously considering the weekly option.    
The first weekly
Herald Express
launched on Thursday

Pròxima parada: Porto

La Casa da Musica, obra i gràcia de Rem Koolhaas


En unes hores em deixaré caure per Porto amb els amics i una setmana per davant per recórrer el Nord de Portugal i les Ries Baixes gallegues.

La primera (i fins ara també única) volta que vaig estar a Porto fou en novembre de 2007 en companyia del millor novio que he tingut fins ara: el Xic Argentí.

Esta relació fou la més completa i la que recorde amb més tendresa, però també la que més em va doldre quan acabà.

Un repàs, per la cara, als millors (i als pitjors) moments d'aquella relació:

- No podries estar més estereotipat… enamorat d’un argentí -em va tirar en cara un amic.
- Perdona, però és que és argentí, però no ho sembla.


Viatjar en tren sempre serà millor que passar la nit a una estació tan perillosa com la de Termini, vam pensar i, també, que la idea de dormir a un compartiment de tren era tan suggerent que no podíem rebutjar l’oferta.


Quan el meu argentí i jo vam arribar a Florència patia tots els símptomes descrits, però encara no sé si havia d’atribuir-los a l’excés de cafeïna, a la quantitat d’hores que portàvem sense dormir o la síndrome d’Stendhal davant la visió de la meravellosa i feixista estació de tren de Santa Maria Novella.


I ahir, en arribar a casa, em vaig trobar amb un paquet urgent, sense remitent ni cap senya, i en obrir-lo vaig notar a l’estòmac una sensació que fa setmanes que em té desesperat i que algú batejà amb el nom de zsa zsa zsu.


Divendres nit vaig tindre argentí per a sopar. I es va quedar a dormir, clar. Dissabte de matí, després de desdejunar café, suc i torrades, i de practicar sexe oral a la cuina, em va amollar ¿Dónde te apetece ir de viaje?


Vaig passar la nit de divendres a casa, amb l’argentí i una botella de vi. De matí havia cobrat els honoraris que tenia pendents d’un divorci i tenia ganes de celebrar-ho: entre copes d’un gran reserva i entre els llençols amb un argentí.


Per això, en adonar-me’n que l’argentí s’entretenia amb els meus peus i les meues aixelles més del que jo esperava vaig ser conscient dels seus punts sensibles.


Este exercici d’exposició pública a la influència dels sentiments resulta esgotador, però imagine que serà compensat d’alguna manera i per això quan, ahir diumenge, vaig provar una sensació de remordiments tan intensa com mai havia sentit, vaig pensar que alguna cosa podria aprendre.


El meus temes de conversa (i els meus pensaments) es limiten a ell, a què m’ha dit, a quin detall ha tingut amb mi, a com m’ha mirat en un moment donat, a com ha estat l’últim clau que hem fotut…


- ¿Qué se supone que tengo que hacer con sus cosas? -vaig preguntar amb l’enèsima copa de vi a la mà.
- ¡Tíralo todo! -ordenà una amiga amb tendència autodestructiva.


Quan ens vam acomiadar pensava que el meu alcoholisme havia llançat a perdre la cita, però res més lluny de la realitat, perquè el jove polític d’interessantíssim futur no trigà ni una hora a telefonar-me i a proposar-me un segon encontre.


Era un simple repeló, de només uns mil·límetres, i tot i ser recent, no vaig ser capaç de saber quan me l’havia feta perquè no havia sentit el dolor.


En teoria es tractava de posar en pràctica la dita que ha regit la meua vida des que vaig perdre la raó, ja fa molts anys: que en qualsevol circumstància, un clau trau un altre clau (en sentit metafòric i en sentit estrictament literal).


pero ya ves / sobreviví / y sin rencor puedo decir / que no te quiero / ya no te quiero.


- Mira, tuve una relación con un chico argentino y la verdad es que no acabó nada bien. Hoy todavía sigo sin entender muchas cosas y no guardo un buen recuerdo, aunque me gustaría. Fue él quien me ofreció mi primer y último mate.

2012 Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG Black Series


451 horsepower just not enough for you? Well, how about 510 then. And that’s exactly what you’ll get in the2012 Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG Black Series. Mated to an AMG Speedshift multiple-clutch 7-speed multimode automatic transmission (try saying that 5 times) that snaps off shifts in just 1/10th of a second, the C63 Black will shred its way to 60 mph in just 4.2 seconds, which should make good use if its planetary-sized 19″ wheels and 15″ brakes when it comes time to stop and turn. AMG has also shed the pounds by dropping in an aluminum hood and lightweight plastic composite fenders for even more performance. DTM racing inspired bodywork also packs an equally venomous exhaust growl that would make the late Pavarotti (g.r.h.s.) himself proud. As for an asking price — look for it to costs north of $ 139,300 (97,000 euros). Look for this dynamo to land stateside in March.

Plumpey Nuts ......what a great name for a food - that truly saves lives

Plumpey Nuts what a great name for a food.....
"Ok I will take 9 boxes in pod B, 8 in Pod C and the other 45 in the cabin." Sweat tickles my nose as I do the 32nd twist and turn, great for the waste line but doubt I'll never be able to limbo dance again! Loading Plumpey Nuts in the Juba heat, the new Capitol of South Sudan is hard work but we soon have them on board and strapped down. 
The refuelling truck pulls up and I load on board 512 litres of Juba's best Jet A-1. Once the fuel is signed for I double check the weight and balance, as whilst the aircraft is full (not a kg more can it lift), it actually looks pretty empty with all the seats out, as the cargo I am transporting today is pretty dense. 

I am about to move about 5 tonnes of these boxes and other assorted medicines and supplies up to northern Southern Sudan for SCF over the next four days as well as pick up an AID Sudan team. The plumpey nuts (what a great name) in particular will save countless lives and make a real difference to many, particularly children in extremis.

I spot the airstrip 15 miles out, a khaki patch standing out as clear as a bell, against the sea of waving green, as despite the lack of rain, the grasslands look surprisingly lush from the air. First load in is to Waat over 200nm north of Juba, it is a new strip for me and as it is a freight flight, I bank hard over the black cotton soil airfield, getting a good look at the land below me. Boxes seldom complain about such manoevers, then line up on the centre of the airfield and pass very low over the somewhat rough surface in an effort to encourage the cattle wandering across it to 'push off.' Also gives me a chance to look out for any standing water or any other obvious hazards that might be there to trip me up but it has not rained for a few days so there is only one area about 200m long that I had best avoid.  The cattle amble off, noses in the air, somewhat irritated by this giant fly that has just zipped past their 'horn tops' at 110kts. Another couple of hard banks keeping the circuit really tight and I am lined up again on the field, to the right of where I guess the runways centre line should be, as best avoid the muddy areas that would definately ruin my day if I landed on them, a rattle of wheels as I apply reverse thrust and brake hard and my shoulders push against my harness. Scotty (5X-SCO) stops in no time and I taxi to the far end of where I think the runway ends!

Once on the deck, Save the Children's truck reverses up to the rear freight door and the straps securing the cargo are quickly whipped off as I have to do this again before the day is out, we get the cargo unloaded. I start passing the boxes out,  this beats any gym session. The Land Cruisers suspension groans under the load.

 Here I have Jim Le Huray my co-pilot resting for a while on the plumpey nuts on a later flight up to Akobo, now that is one 'rubbish' airstrip - not much fun when dryish, suspect it soon becomes unusable when wettish!
'
Plumpey nuts are  are in a distinctive red and white box each weighing 14.7kg, this is one load of 'peanut butter' that is going to a very good home .....

Wikapedia say  Plumpy’nut is frequently used as a treatment for emergency malnutrition cases. It helps with rapid weight gain, which can make the difference between life and death for a young child. The product is also easy for children to eat since they can feed themselves the soft paste. The fortified peanut butter-like paste contains a balance of fats, carbohydrates and proteins (macronutrients), and vitamins and minerals (micronutrients). Peanuts contain mono-unsaturated fats, which are easy to digest. They are also very high in calories, which means that a child will get a lot of energy from just small amounts, important because malnutrition shrinks the stomach. They are rich in zinc and protein — both good for the immune system and to aid long bone growth in reversing stunted height, while protein is also needed for muscle development. Peanuts are also a good source of vitamin E, an antioxidant that helps to convert food into energy.

South Sudan - a north/south divide?

Juba, South Sudan
(John Davies, Operations Manager for Warrior Security, describes the days following independence)

There is what can only be described as furious activity in Juba, the capital of newly independent South Sudan, as a genuine optimism has ignited a touch paper of building and development.


Everywhere you drive amongst the warren of red dusty roads that turn into a sticky quagmire of mud after the seasonal rain storms, small plots of land are being cleared and built on. What was bare batch of scrub last week now contains a phoenix like concrete structure. The inflated cost of just about everything here has done little to dampen this speculative activity, but crucially such investment would only be possible in an environment of genuine stability, or at the least a realistic hope of it.

The view from the ground over the independence weekend was one of good natured celebration, and the control room at Warrior has not detected any noticeable increase in criminal activity as the euphoria wares off.

Juba is located in the southern tip of the country, only some 100 kilometres from the Uganda, Democratic Republic of Congo and Kenya, and it is easy to feel detached from the ongoing problems along the disputed border area with Sudan some 500 kilometres to the north.

Warrior outstations in areas such as Wau have reported unplanned curfews being imposed with little or no notice, resulting in night guards having to extend their shifts in some cases by 24 hours in order to maintain protection of clients such as the UN’s World Food Programme.

Confrontation between the Sudan Armed Forces and the South’s SPLA is complicated by groups of southern rebels, offered amnesty by President Salva Kiir in an attempt to integrate them back into the South Sudan Army. Only yesterday Rebel leader Colonel Gatluak Gai was shot and killed near Pakur in Unity State having allegedly been lured into a trap, although army sources refute this, citing internal tribal and sub-ethnic rifts between the Nuer and Dinka groups.

At the beginning of the week the government began circulation of the new South Sudan currency, and I happened to be at the junction of the main branch of Equity Bank when a heavily armed cordon was laid down to receive the crisp new notes featuring the image of Dr. John Garang de Mabior, the hero of the struggle for independence, but omitting a date, which prompted hasty radio broadcasts reassuring everyone that despite this, it was still legal tender.

More evidence of the government’s investment in infrastructure can be seen along the airport road, on which solar street lighting has been installed, and in the centre of the largest of the three roundabouts in Juba, an impressive ornamental fountain was recently commissioned which at night is illuminated with a multicoloured display, and now referred to in Warrior circles as the ‘Bellagio’, although after three days it was out of action.

Probably the greatest threat to all of this remains the issue of oil, most of which is extracted from southern oilfields close to the northern border, and which are the subject of conflict over ownership. But crucially the only way extracted oil can leave South Sudan is along pipelines through their northern neighbour, whose President Bashir has threatened charging enormous sums for the privilege, and some estimate that it will be three years before a reliable route can be constructed south through Kenya.

In the United Kingdom we talk about a North/South divide, whereby the prominence of London and home counties as the commercial and financial hub has led to a clearly defined split in the wealth and welfare of those above and below an imaginary line that I would place somewhere through Shakespeare’s ancient forest of Arden in the Midlands. Let’s hope the nation builders of South Sudan don’t make the same mistake.

Street Style!


Summertime



Igual que Camps, enguany he avançat les vacances d'estiu i dilluns marxaré una setmana a la nació galaicoportuguesa en companyia d'un grapat d'amics.

Comença el summertime.





Em fa la impressió, però, que el meu summertime serà més de l'estil Joplin que no pas del penjat de Banhart.



Stand Up: The Importance of Posture


Confidence and having confidence, or trying to be cool and making yourself look cool; ultimately these two factors have a big impact on how we dress and how our outfit works. But how many of you have stopped and actually thought seriously about how you are standing? And how it might be affecting the way you look.  Good posture doesn’t really figure in the average fashion routine, even though almost all of us will at some point have had the “stand up straight, shoulders back” talk from a parent or other suitable source of authority. I am equally sure that each and every one of us has then deployed the usual acknowledgement of said command and then returned almost immediately, or at least whenever practical, to our prior hunch backed stance.
It is very easy to underestimate just how important having a good posture is, even more so for those that have a keen interest in fashion and the way they dress. 

L'últim acte de Camps



La setmana passada vaig tindre el judici d'un client acusat d'haver robat a l'interior d'un cotxe després d'haver trencat un dels vidres de darrere.

El meu client, paradoxalment de nom Àngel, durant tota la instrucció del cas jurà i perjurà que era innocent a pesar de l'allau de proves que apuntaven en direcció contrària i que es tractava d'una injustícia, que ell no havia robat res i que era una “víctima del sistema”, per la qual no vaig poder pactar una conformitat amb el fiscal per evitar el judici.

El dia de la vista, però, la fiscal va voler parlar amb mi i em va oferir un acord que, segons ella, no podria rebutjar: un any de presó (amb la corresponent suspensió de la pena) si Angelet reconeixia els fets, es declarava culpable i deixava de donar pel sac.

- La fiscal ens ofereix un bon acord -vaig proposar als corredors de la Ciutat de la Justícia.
- Però és que sóc innocent! No he fet res!
- És un any de presó, que no compliries, i tots a casa.
- Agafa-ho.

Vaig voler quedar-me més tranquil:

- Però si de veritat eres innocent podem lluitar pel cas i buscar l'absolució.
- No, no... és igual: agafa-ho i ja està... però que conste que açò és una injustícia.

La conformitat amb l'acusació és justament la figura a la qual ahir a primera hora del matí es van acollir Campos i el repugnant Betoret per evitar l'espectacle que suposaria el primer judici de la Gürtel i que, en teoria, també pensava exercir Camps, tal com anuncià el seu advocat.

A les cinc de la vesprada, però, es produí un sorprenent canvi de plans i amb un discurs histriònic, grandiloqüent i estupefaent i, com ha fet sempre, confonent els interessos dels valencians amb allò que més li convé al seu partit i a la seua pròpia persona, Camps anunciava que deixava la presidència de la Generalitat Valenciana.

Este canvi de plans improvisat té una explicació molt raonable: processalment és necessari que tots els acusats reconeguen els fets i es conformen amb la pena sol·licitada per l'acusació i, per tant, no té cap sentit que ho facen uns i els altres no: si no es conformen els quatre, hi haurà judici igualment.

La pregunta és: si dos, Betoret i Campos, es van conformar a primera hora i Camps, el tercer, pensava fer-ho al llarg del matí, què passà amb el quart en discòrdia, amb Ric Costa?

El Mimosín de la trama Brugal és, sorprenentment, qui millor ho té per esquivar una condemna per suborn, ja que en no ocupar càrrec a l'administració valenciana, es pot entendre que els regals els rebia per la seua condició de secretari del PP, un càrrec que de moment encara no permet contractar en nom de la Generalitat Valenciana.

Tot indica que a última hora del matí Costa es va refer com un gat, va forçar la màquina i es negà a reconéixer la seua culpabilitat, entre altres motius perquè ahir ningú havia comptat amb ell, i així el propi Ric s'ha emportat Camps per davant, el qual s'ha vist obligat a marxar per la porta de darrere, convertit en una caricatura del que hauria de ser un Molt Honorable, esguitat per casos de corrupció i deixant el País en situació de fallida econòmica i, el que és més greu, en situació de fallida política.

Al remat, després de tot l'espectacle que vam viure ahir i gràcies a un personatge com Ric Costa, tindrem judici a la tardor i això, de moment, no té preu.

Les tres opcions de Camps


Ara que el jutge Flors ha decidit obrir judici oral contra el Molt ecs!Honorable, les opcions per al president dels valencians es limiten a tres.

La primera, i la que té totes les paperetes per ser la definitiva, és buscar un acord amb el Fiscal i acceptar una condemna per suborn i evitar així la vergonyosa i vergonyant imatge de Camps (i companyia) a la banqueta dels acusats.

Esta seria, com resulta fàcil imaginar, l'opció més ràpida i neta, però suposaria que Camps accepta els fets que li imputa l'acusació i no li quedaria més remei que abandonar la Generalitat i desaparéixer per a sempre. O no.

Una segona possibilitat, estil kamikaze, seria la de lluitar el cas. És a dir: preparar la defensa i celebrar el judici. En este cas, podria o bé resultar absolt (gairebé impossible amb totes les proves damunt la taula) o bé acabar condemnat després d'haver passat uns quants matins als jutjats, d'haver obert els telenotícies i els diaris durant setmanes i d'haver-se convertit en la pedra de la sabata de Rajoy en una hipotètica campanya electoral de tardor.
 
Dins, però, de l'opció de preparar el judici, trobem una tercera possibilitat que passaria per apostar per una nova estratègia de defensa: intentar demostrar que Camps ha perdut el cap i que no pot ser condemnat. Proves en tenim a cabassos i només cal repassar l'hemeroteca per trobar tones d'indicis que apunten en la mateixa direcció: Camps està tocat de l'ala.

Uns exemples:


I sobretot:

Amb estes intervencions, quin jurat popular seria capaç de condemnar Camps?

Breaking the mold with and Out of the Box Tie

In a professional work setting, a man's necktie is subject to stringent style requirements. Rules and regulations mandate an understated & simple presentation. Time to implode the rules and set a new course. Enter Psycho Bunny. The rabid rabbit motif will surely raise a few curious eyebrows. It’s edgy without being too gimmicky. Maintain an elegant knot & dimple. And ensure the rest of your ensemble is more restrained-too much flair can be distracting. Depending on your office-wear with measured caution.
Psycho Bunny, $110.00

Secret


La setmana passada, a mig matí, mentre treballava en una demanda que he de presentar abans de marxar de vacances van picar la porta del despatx i, en obrir, aparegué una dona gran.

- Hola Martinet, com està la iaia?
- Bé... supose... -vaig contestar estranyat per la pregunta.

I tot seguit anuncià:

- Hui a ton pare el conviden a dinar, que m'ho ha dit un pardalet.
- Ah, sí? Molt bé...
- Sí, sí... el conviden a un arròs del senyoret, però per l'amor de déu, no li digues que t'ho he dit.
- No diré ni pruna.
- I ací dalt qui viu? -canvià de terç tot seguit.
- Jo, visc jo. És ma casa.
- I el teu germà on viu?
- El meu germà viu a València.
- Per què?
- No ho sé.
- I ja tens novia?

Vaig dubtar un segon:

- No, encara no en tinc.
- Això com és? Que quina edat tens?
- Trenta. En tinc trenta -vaig mentir.
- Ja te toca, eh?

I continuà:

- I ací al costat qui viu? Ton tio?
- Sí, mon tio.
- Però s'ha separat de la dona, veritat? -repreguntà abaixant el to de veu.
- Sí, està separat.
- I la dona on viu?
- Allà on vivien.
- Se quedà ella amb la casa, no?
- Efectivament...
- Me'n recorde que al sogre de ton tio li vaig comprar fa molt anys un rellotge gran, d'eixos de peu.
- Ah, molt bé.
- I digues, tens novia?

Juraria que feia només un minut que havia contestat eixa mateixa pregunta.

- No, no en tinc.
- Però ja tens trenta anys, veritat?

Redéu, com de capritxosa és la memòria.

- Sí, tinc trenta anys.
- Busca't una novia, que ja tens edat... -sentencià i afegí: Me'n vaig i no digues a ton pare que t'he dit jo que el convidaven a dinar.
- Tranquil·la, guardaré el secret.

I tant que ho faré, vaig pensar, perquè encara a dia de hui no sé qui és esta dona.