Skylon versus the Dragon: isn't it time we cast aside our steam punk role?

Not that long ago, I saw a report in the press about Skylon, the name of the unmanned space plane designed by the British firm, Reaction Engines Ltd. The story of Skylon’s journey from engineer Alan Bond’s head to computer disk is too complex to lay out in detail here. However, it began in the 1980s and has cost £12 million to date. If all goes well and another £220 million is found, Skylon should be taking to the skies in another…7-8 years? Oh dear, oh dear… To make matters more poignant, the Dragon, an unmanned space capsule built by the Californian company, SpaceX, has just docked at the International Space Station. Tut-tut again. Why do the Americans always win the space race, while the British get the steam punk trophy? It’s not that we lack imagination. The greatest robot known to man was built in the mind of Mary Shelley, while HG Wells zipped us forwards and backwards in time. Great Britain is hardly a minor player on the world stage. That great political power, Russia, has long had a space program to rival the Americans, and even the come-lately Chinese are getting their program – and rockets – off the ground. Get with it, Britain. Think of the employment potential, if nothing else…more information..

Why The Apprentice didn't fire me...

I watched last night’s Apprentice, my jaw tickling the carpet in disbelief. Lord Sugar did his usual thing of separating the goats from the sheep, and later dismissed one of those sad animals with his famous finger-wave. Well, if I had sat in Lord Sugar’s seat, I would have fired all members of both teams, wiped the slate clean, and held over the lip-smacking, £250 K prize for the next round – yes, there is going to be another series. Alright, it’s wisdom in hindsight, and OK, those poor teasels are under the scrutiny of the camera. But they had so much to begin with, not the least of their resources being a guy who owns his own wine distribution firm. His team won, or rather, didn’t lose because the alternative offering was so dire. The only spark of talent was from a young lady who designed the good-ish product logo for the losing team. Again, wisdom in hindsight, but nobody on either team, when asked to epitomise ‘English-ness’ mentioned William Shakespeare. I had the entire campaign in my head before I went to bed. Picture this. A guy in a suit of armour cries: “For Harry, England, and St. George.” He holds up a bottle of St George (the wine), branded with a red cross on a white background. There is a flurry of Greensleeves, and a galliard of Renaissance men and women on a lawn in front of a stately home. They cease dancing, and a serving wench steps forward with a tray of filled glasses. One man – Prospero? – raises a glass and says “The stuff dreams are made on…” Far-fetched? Years ago, there was a sherry called A Winter’s Tale – is it still around? Costly? The losing team hired a stately home to film a lassie in a modern wedding dress…curious, that. There are Renaissance costumes for hire, the length and breadth of the land. So, there you have it. McCann Erickson, I await your call.

Vidal Sassoon, RIP

Several posts ago, I waxed lyrical on the work of Vidal Sassoon, the man who contributed more than anybody in freeing women from their stifling, lacquered bouffants. Well, Mr Sassoon is now dead, and I bow my fluffy, unkempt head to this maestro of the hair salon. Sadly, I never had the bone structure requisite for a five-point geometric bob. A gal has to be built along modernist lines to walk the walk of Shrimpton, Hornby, Farrow, et al. However, I cherish the extraordinary VS hairdryer that I bought in 2002 for £12.99 and that was/is still going strong; 1800 watts, folding handle, 2 heat/speed settings, worldwide dual voltage, and cool shot button. When it does eventually break down, I will keep it as a museum piece. In the meantime, I go into mourning for this man who contributed as much as any artist or architect to visual culture in the twentieth century