BBC News - Jo Yeates murder case: MP backs DNA testing
I once had pub argument. It wasn't a very good argument because I was pissed. As a newt. It's all a bit misty now but I think I was reacting to a totally reasonable comment with some vitriolic anti-logic that made no sense whatsoever. I remember being so outranged by one particular point that I shot one leg out from under the table in order to made a counter point and banged my knee. It hurt quite a lot. It is from this episode, and many others like it, that I have learned not to make knee jerk reactions. Or at least, I try not to. Most often they don't help, by their nature they are made in haste soon after the event or situation to which they pertain.
I am just a normal(ish) everyday citizen. I'd expect a well educated MP to have an even keener sense of managing ones mouth. Step forward Bristol East Labour MP Kerry McCarthy. She presented the entirely reasonable and well thought out idea that, in the hunt for the killer of Jo Yeates, ALL MEN IN BRISTOL SHOULD BE DNA TESTED. You read that correctly. All. Men. In. Bristol. Jesus wept like a little baby.
Just for giggles, shall we run this idea under the soothing cold water tap of logic?
At the count of the last census, there were 208,500 men resident in Bristol. A DNS test takes upto 24 hours, just for the labwork. Never mind the collection of the sample, administration and analysis. Let us be charitable and say that there are 6 person hours of administration and 6 person hours of scientific analysis. 12 hours per sample.
That would be, um, tap tap tapity tap on the calculator... 2.5 million person hours. Or 104250 person days. Or 285 person years.
And then there are the civil rights issues brought to light with such a wide ranging tactic. That's a nasty can of worms right there. I wonder if the police would "accidentally" keep the DNA records?
All for the possibility to solve a single murder.
Next time Kerry is up for election, does someone, anyone, want to remind her of her comment? The British public should expect, and deserve, better from their elected representatives.
Friday 14 January 2011
Wednesday 12 January 2011
The teenage years...
So school was really good. Left at 16 and went to 6th form college. Did I already mention that I'm not academic? Left with pretty poor results. How bad? Well, you can spell END with them.
I did leave full of self confidence. And with no virginity. Yay. Decided against going to university. Messed around setting up my own business. Learned a lot of useful skills doing that and would recommend it to anyone.
When I was 19 I went clubbing with my mate Sam in Bristol and pulled in a night club. Six months later I moved to Bristol. Been here ever since. Worked in IT all my life. I've worked with councils, banks, my Brother. Now happily providing IT support working with an IT network support company. I'm lucky, I've never been unemployed.
I play tennis. I cook. I read books and try to write books. I write songs. I ponce around with friends getting drunk. I wake up feeling like a bear sneaked up on me and did poopoo in my mouth and then hit me on the head with a frying pan.
I massively, hugely, intensely, forgivingly and very very optimistically enjoy life. My glass ain't just half full, it's overflowing.Tomorrow the first proper blog post. Excited?
I did leave full of self confidence. And with no virginity. Yay. Decided against going to university. Messed around setting up my own business. Learned a lot of useful skills doing that and would recommend it to anyone.
When I was 19 I went clubbing with my mate Sam in Bristol and pulled in a night club. Six months later I moved to Bristol. Been here ever since. Worked in IT all my life. I've worked with councils, banks, my Brother. Now happily providing IT support working with an IT network support company. I'm lucky, I've never been unemployed.
I play tennis. I cook. I read books and try to write books. I write songs. I ponce around with friends getting drunk. I wake up feeling like a bear sneaked up on me and did poopoo in my mouth and then hit me on the head with a frying pan.
I massively, hugely, intensely, forgivingly and very very optimistically enjoy life. My glass ain't just half full, it's overflowing.Tomorrow the first proper blog post. Excited?
Tuesday 11 January 2011
If this is going to work, you'll need to know a little about me...
Welcome 2011. The year of creativity. The year of writing. The year of the Rabbit.
No, really, it's the year of the Rabbit.
What follows will be me. My thoughts and expectations. Some of my creative output. All sorts. Maybe like an old skool type of blog. The ones where you told people that you were going to visit granny. Bookmark it now folks, it's gonna be a hot ride.
I'm 33 (34 this year on March the 18th if you want to send me a card). I was born about 2 months premature weighing under 2 pounds. In 1977 I'm pretty sure they nearly threw me in the bin for scraps. Nowadays I'd have come out with ASBO in hand ready for a knife fight. I survived due to :
Only a moron would make further family details available. If I listed my parents names and my siblings' ages my bank account would be empty tomorrow and I'd have an entire Nigerian village trying to convince me I'd been selected to have 4 Million Dollars put into my account.
Needless to say, I'm the youngest of three. Grew up pretty much a single child due to the age gap between me, my brother and sister. Oh, and my sister being abducted by a religious cult. Go figure.
Went to an awesome secondary school. They got me. I got them. Massive love-in. Left with 5 GCSEs. All C. Sometimes amazing teachers and a loveable peer group are not enough. I'm just not an academic. I AM bright. I AM intelligent. I DO have an enquiring mind. I just don't pass exams. There is a difference.
Enough for tonight. The teenage years start tomorrow. Figuratively speaking.
No, really, it's the year of the Rabbit.
What follows will be me. My thoughts and expectations. Some of my creative output. All sorts. Maybe like an old skool type of blog. The ones where you told people that you were going to visit granny. Bookmark it now folks, it's gonna be a hot ride.
I'm 33 (34 this year on March the 18th if you want to send me a card). I was born about 2 months premature weighing under 2 pounds. In 1977 I'm pretty sure they nearly threw me in the bin for scraps. Nowadays I'd have come out with ASBO in hand ready for a knife fight. I survived due to :
- Massive luck
- The huge emotional input from my parents
- The talent and dedication of the medical profession surrounding me
Only a moron would make further family details available. If I listed my parents names and my siblings' ages my bank account would be empty tomorrow and I'd have an entire Nigerian village trying to convince me I'd been selected to have 4 Million Dollars put into my account.
Needless to say, I'm the youngest of three. Grew up pretty much a single child due to the age gap between me, my brother and sister. Oh, and my sister being abducted by a religious cult. Go figure.
Went to an awesome secondary school. They got me. I got them. Massive love-in. Left with 5 GCSEs. All C. Sometimes amazing teachers and a loveable peer group are not enough. I'm just not an academic. I AM bright. I AM intelligent. I DO have an enquiring mind. I just don't pass exams. There is a difference.
Enough for tonight. The teenage years start tomorrow. Figuratively speaking.
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