2012 quiz of the year

If you've made it through Christmas without being subjected to a seemingly interminable quiz poring over every conceivable aspect of 2011 in forensic detail, congratulations.  Really.  You deserve some sort of medal, or perhaps even a broadsheet newspaper subscription.

Trivial ritual and reminiscence is all very well, but I'd prefer to look forward (if only to sustain the rather tenuous premise of this introduction).  So I've prepared this rather tricky little batch of 12 questions about the coming year instead.  If you feel like submitting your answers and haven't cheated, you can email them to me - there might* even be a small prize!  Bribing me to procure hints is positively encouraged.  If that seems far too much like hard work**, the answers will almost certainly*** appear here in 10 days or so.   Good luck!


1.   Which central American civilisation is commonly believed to have predicted that the world would end on 21 December 2012?

2.   Which undeservedly bestselling and undeniably ludicrous work of fiction published in 2009 centres around that prediction?

3.   Why was the film '2012' banned in North Korea?

4.   Which star of '2012' had previously played an illegal immigrant forced to harvest organs in a London hotel in his first major film role?

5.   2012 marks the 100th anniversary of Alan Turing's birth.  What is the Turing test?

6.   Queen Elizabeth II will celebrate her Diamond Jubilee in 2012 (assuming that she doesn't kick the bucket before 6 February).  Which date has been designated as a special bank holiday to mark the occasion?

7.   Who is the only other British monarch to have celebrated a Diamond Jubilee?

8.   London will host the Summer Olympic Games for the third time in 2012.  In which other years did London host the games?

9.   Which three other cities have hosted the Summer Olympic Games twice?

10.   Which popular "historical science fiction action-adventure" video game series featuring the character Desmond Miles takes place primarily in 2012?

11.   How many Friday the 13ths will there be in 2012?

12.   Which British author would have celebrated his 200th birthday on 7 February 2012?


* (but there won't)
** (because you're incredibly lazy)
*** (because I'm incredibly lazy)

About their Royal Wedding

In a long-overdue homage to the minds behind one of my favourite blogs, I thought I'd briefly hijack their MO to alert you to this unmissable item of royal wedding safety equipment.

Yes, it's a rather stylish Royal Wedding sick bag.  Designed by Lydia Leith, you can buy one directly from her website for the anything-but-princely sum of £3.  Or - because you know one bag isn't going to be enough to get through this - how about a matching (and suitably regal) gold and purple set for £8?  I'm proud to say I've ordered mine already. 

How to avoid setting a world record

You might remember that I got myself £200 of John Lewis vouchers by winning two games at the Cadbury Spots v Stripes event a couple of weeks ago.  And if you don't, why not?  I've mentioned it often enough (and then some).

The organisers have very kindly sent me some video footage of my miserable failures at two of the other games.  First up - stacking coins.  In case it isn't obvious, I was supposed to be doing this quickly.

Next up was competitive tea making - or, in other words, throwing teabags into mugs, adding spoons and touching a kettle to finish.  As you'll see, I've only explained those final stages of the game for completeness - I didn't even make it that far.  I'd DEFINITELY have done a lot better with coffee.  Watch all the way to the end for a world-class gesture of contemptuous petulance.  For reference, someone finished this game in 45 seconds...

Can you do better?

Yes.

10 'facts' about Libya

In a recent survey, 83% of participants ranked Muammar Gaddafi as their least favourite Moomin

Roadside assistance organisation Green Flag is actually a money laundering facade maintained by the Libyan transport ministry

The country's geopolitical stock could plummet.  Standard & Poor are threatening to downgrade it to 'Libby B', one place behind Karl Kennedy's daughter

Psychologists have cited the acrimonious divorce from Moopa Gaddafi as a possible cause of the Colonel's insatiable rage

Coming soon to a cinema near you: the cartoon adventures of a megalomaniac autocrat, in "Gaddafi: DUCK!"

Placing two adjacent blank Scrabble tiles earns you a Tripoli word score - call 1-800-GADDAFI to find out what word you're required to have said

Gaddafi's public speaking style has earned him international renown as Libya's "unclear weapon"

The Colonel's enthuasiastic misunderstanding of English idioms forced major oil corporations to offer petroleum by-products as horticultural bribes.  Tripoli's palms have never looked greasier

Gaddafi's first name is actually Orville.  The popular acronym "OMG" derives from thinly-veiled references to his surprising behaviour in US intelligence reports

In Libyan Cluedo, you know the Colonel was the murderer from the start - you just have to guess today's victim

Blogging for Bournville

Dipping a tentative toe into the chocolate fountain of targeted marketing 

On Thursday night I attended a social event organised for Cadbury by creative agency PHD.  All the attendees were bloggers, with the possible exception of me.  The event was part of Cadbury's "Spots v Stripes" campaign to stir up some competitive spirit in Britain ahead of the Olympics, so we each played seven timed games and tried to smash some world records.

Getting the housekeeping out of the way, I suppose I should say Northfield, Illinois instead of Bournville, since Cadbury's historic link with West Midlands quaker philanthropy is now about as strong as Paris Hilton's.  I also shouldn't mention chocolate - Cadbury is the official "treat" provider for London 2012, so "chocolate" and "sweets" are frowned upon and must be expurgated with extreme prejudice.  Anyway.  On the night, we enthusiastically stacked coins, threw teabags, doodled, unrolled toilet paper, clicked, scrolled and made beds.  In true Olympic tradition, our deity-like efforts were fuelled by a free bar, free finger food, and free TREAT-filled goody bags.  A rigorous regime of blood and urine testing also helped to get us all in the mood.

I was atrocious. I stacked my 25 tuppences like a hook-handed blind man on a bouncy castle (52 seconds, fourth among our team of four).  I aimed teabags at cups as if my inaccuracy was performance art, and disconsolately discarded my last batch of ammo in a contemptible gesture of unsporting petulance (disqualified).  My doodle looked like a protest against the constraint of having to stay within the lines (disqualified).  The toilet roll spun flamboyantly out of my fumbling hand and nailed a spectacular gymnastic landing (disqualified).  I was a disgrace to team Spots and I knew I had a lot of making up to do.

Fortunately, the next two games were played on computers.  Even more fortunately, we didn't have time for me to find a way of being disqualified from bedmaking.  Suddenly my lack of aptitude for any practical task became less of a handicap.  I closed 20 windows in 9.5 seconds, and dragged some sort of cartoon starfish along a TREAT-coloured racetrack in 11.73 seconds.  I won both games and was awarded £200 of John Lewis vouchers.  21.23 seconds well spent, even if I'm pretty sure the vouchers won't be.

I guess we focused on 'faster' on Thursday - given how successful it was, my fingers are firmly crossed that there might yet be future 'higher' and 'stronger' -themed events to tick off the other parts of the Olympic motto.  We had a fabulous time whether losing or winning - the guys at PHD were great fun and the games were very well chosen.  The goody bags were fantastic too (deluxe Addict-A-Balls!).  The only downside is that PHD have threatened to send each of us a personalised video compilation of our performances.  I might post mine here, but - just like the Beijing 2008 opening ceremony - I can't promise that it won't be heavily edited to cast me in a more favourable light.  Watch this space.

Top 10: French Kiss Records

French Kiss has been one of my favourite labels for several years, and not just because it's run by some of the guys from Les Savy Fav (though that obviously helps). They have a fantastic roster of bands and a great record of making tracks freely available to get people hooked. People like me. Finding out that a new band has signed there consistently counts as a fruitful recommendation. Speaking of that, try these!

The Detachment Kit - Sitting Still, Talking About Jets 
Yes, it has a stupid prog name.  And it gets worse on that front: the album is called They Raging, Quiet Army.  Whatever that means.  But if I had to make an all-time top 10 without a theme or niche, this would be a live contender.  The Detachment Kit oscillate inexplicably between amazing and turgid without any warning (if they were hirsute I'd happily refer to them as bipolar bears), but this is the very top end of that scale.  If you need another reason to listen, I can do no better than refer you to the Queen Beaktapus board game enclosed with their second album.  See also: Skyscrapers, Dead Angels Make Slow Sound

The Hold Steady - Chips Ahoy! 
This is just a song about a girl, and a guy, and a horse… called Chips Ahoy.  The horse, not the girl or the guy.  It doesn't have a point, a moral or a hidden meaning.  It's just fun to listen to, and triple that live. Witty lyrics and world-class riffs.  I can't recommend their gigs highly enough, but only because any accurate description would stop me getting tickets next time.  I've never seen anyone look happier than Craig Finn on stage.  See also: Constructive Summer, Stuck Between Stations, The Swish, Cattle And The Creeping Things, most of the rest of their songs…

Passion Pit - Little Secrets
You probably know this already.  Passion Pit are terrible live - the guy can't sing at all - but the recorded versions are bouncy and fun, so why let that ruin it for you?  Epic falsetto dance music, for all I know.  See also: I've Got Your Number, Moth's Wings

Thunderbirds Are Now! - Eat This City
They're VERY CURRENT, and they're VERY HUNGRY.  At least, that's what I took away from this song.  Either that or they're VERY ANGRY ABOUT ZONING RESTRICTIONS.  This is a silly band with silly song names like Panthers In Crime and Enough About Me, Let's Talk About Me, but this track is the highlight of a great album.  And the band name probably seemed less ironic when they were still releasing records.  See also: Better Safe Than Safari, 198090

Rahim - 10,000 Horses 
This song goes woo woo in all the right places.  Also some wrong ones, but the balance is in their favour.   I don't know whether Rahim are still releasing music and can't recommend any other songs, but only because I haven't heard them.  Hey, how about this: you do some work for once and tell ME whether they're good!  This isn't all one way you know.

Local Natives - Sun Hands
They're a bit like the Fleet Foxes you read all those laudatory things about that you couldn't hear in their boring records.  I shouldn't complain: I did get to see The Clientele massively overshadow them as support.  Anyway.  Where was I?  Ah yes, this band.  They're critically acclaimed AND good, so give last year's debut album a try.  See also: Airplanes, Who Knows Who Cares

Enon - Come Into 

If you remember guitarist John Schmersal's previous band Brainiac, you probably already know Enon.  Noisy jerky indie, sometimes with added Japanese girl vocals.  Never knowingly overproduced.  This is from their first album, Believo! - the later ones were probably more consistent, especially the brilliant High Society.  See also: Natural Disasters, Starcastic

The Dodos - Winter 
Stripped down - drums, guitar, man voices.  Quite different from most other French Kiss bands.  If you need to crack your way out of a tedious singer-songwritery rut, this would be a good place to start.  See also: Fools, Walking

Lifter Puller - Space Humpin' $19.99
Lifter Puller (LFTR PLLR to fans and irritable vowel sufferers) were Craig Finn's first band.  I'd apologise for including this song alongside the Hold Steady, but I'm just not an apologising kind of guy.   Plus, it's awesome.  It's hard to summarise the difference between the two bands, but let's try: all Lifter Puller's songs about drugs are very slightly less mature and articulate.  Lifter Puller had their own internal universe - a cast of characters, a map of streets and stories.  Apparently people still make pilgrimages to Minneapolis intersections referenced in their songs.  Not very many people, you understand.  A select and crazy few.  See also: Lie Down On Lansdowne, Half Dead And Dynamite

Les Savy Fav - Tragic Monsters 
I couldn't leave them out and wouldn't want to.  I've seen them a few times: when Tim Harrington started throwing lost-and-found women's shoes into the crowd in the rain at Victoria Park, I caught one and kept it for a year (almost entirely through forgetfulness).  At another gig, he taught my sister a lesson by shoving her phone down her top for texting during a song.  Punky songs with clever lyrics that are just easy enough to sing while off your tits or 30 metres into the crowd above their heads while naked in a dustbin.  "What we don't know can't hurt us yet", this song says.  Apply that rule and go buy their albums today.  Hell, give your record collection a spring clean and go get all the albums on this list.

Bamboozling

When I was little I drank slightly less alcohol than I do now, so I didn't want to go to pub quizzes.  And those fundraising "wine and wisdom" things in the school hall where everyone's parents scrabbled to show themselves off somehow seemed a bit forced.  And we didn't have the internet, unless you rather generously count Compuserve.  But you know what we had?  We had Channel 4 teletext.  And by 'we', I mean my grandparents.  They lived 88.5 miles away - I knew this because I was me, I remember this because I'm still me.  Every time we visited, I'd snaffle the remote once a day and switch to page 452 to play Bamboozle! 

Bamboozle! was a daily quiz of twelve multiple choice questions hosted by the rather dashing Bamber.  And they were tough.  If you didn't know your birthstones, county towns and English rivers, you were in all sorts of trouble.  You had to press red, green, yellow or blue to choose an answer.  You could always tell when you'd got one wrong by the mangled page number you were routed through to get to the next question.  Just like life, there were no second chances, no prizes and it frequently broke.  At the end, Bamber would give you your score and rank you according a scale based on the final question.  If question 12 was 'What type of animal is a cetacean?', a perfect score might earn you a 'blue whale', but a big fat zero might slap you with a 'Jonah'.  When I was young it was the most fun you could have with a middle-aged toupéed man without… let's not go there.

Bamboozle! disappeared from Teletext a couple of years ago, commemorated only by this very special image which I promise I haven't printed off and don't keep under my pillow.  Not even a little bit.  At the time, I remember thinking that it almost seemed as if the national press didn't care.  Everything had changed and no-one had noticed, and so on and so forth.  It was a bit of a shame.  You get the slow-loading pixellated picture.

Fortunately the life cycle of a game works very differently these days.  Once upon a time, a popular game would be shelved just a few short sequels after it had outstayed its welcome.  Now everything gets brought back as an iPhone app, and that's exactly what's happened to Bamboozle!  There are a few differences - a timer, penalties for mistakes, a leaderboard - but for 59p, it's an extremely cheap and addictive game which I can wholeheartedly recommend.  I'd even be happy to leverage the global fame that came with my unsuccessful appearance on 15 To 1 to endorse it on billboards, but only if the money is right.  The questions are very hard and I haven't seen any repeats yet - that's all you can ask from a quiz, surely?  Anyway, my best time so far is a thoroughly mediocre 75 seconds.  Let me know if you smash that to pieces on your own nostalgia trip.

A guide to solving cryptic crosswords: part two

Four weeks ago, I posted part one of this guide.  You might remember that I gently introduced the subject by explaining how to spot anagrams and hidden words.  You might not, because it's been a long time and you haven't been practising, even though you promised you would.  You've earned yourself a heavy dose of Inspector Remorse. 

We've only skimmed the surface so far.  You'll need a full bag of tools to tackle a cryptic crossword and I've pretty much only given you the bag so far, together with a tiny note reading 'I've borrowed all the tools, you can have them in four weeks'.  I owe you nine-tenths of an iceberg, so I'm cracking open the freezer.  Let's get started.

Flugelbert's primer
It's probably not even worth opening your newspaper without understanding this simple premise.  For each clue, you'll need to count the number of times that the letter A appears.  0-3 As means that the answer will be a noun (2 usually indicates a proper noun).  4 or 5 signifies a verb, 6 an adverb.  7 or more As and you can guarantee that you're looking for an adjective.  This should help you rule out some of your more outlandish ideas and focus your thoughts.  The name and principle of this concept commemorate Gerardus Flugelbert, a celebrated Slovak cruciverbalist who could instinctively pinpoint the correct positions of all the As throughout any crossword at a glance.

Triskaidekasymmetry 
You'll probably have noticed that crossword grids are supposed to be symmetrical.  Take that to its logical conclusion, and you'll be well on your way to solving some of the trickiest clues around.  If you can solve a clue in one half of a crossword, you should be able to work out the corresponding answer in the other half (its "triskaiflection") straight away.  How?  Simply advance each letter of the answer 13 places through the alphabet.  Whenever you get to Z, you'll need to start again at A and continue your counting - this explains triskaidekasymmetry's classification in the puzzling pantheon as a Pacmanian premise.

Se doku
Have you ever wondered why Japanese number puzzles sit so comfortably next to crosswords?  The answer is simple - the former was developed from the latter.  Se doku is one of the founding principles of the crossword puzzle. In any row or column or answer, there should not be any repeated letters.  If you think you've solved a clue but this rule is violated, you only have "an answer", not "the answer".  The name was slightly changed to avoid any copyright claims from the estate of the late Edward Powys Mathers and Derrick Somerset Macnutt.  Cruciverbalists often joke at conventions that the corruption to su doku has violated the very rule which inspired the puzzle!

Alphascrabbling 
After reading about se doku, you'll appreciate that mind game developers rank among the world's worst plagiarists.  The aforementioned inventors of the cryptic crossword - hallowed be their names - are just as guilty.  A giant leap towards solving any clue can be taken by assigning each letter in the clue a corresponding integer value between 1 and 26.  Adding these integers will give you a "total", and the square root of this "total" tells you the scrabble value of the answer.  You must assume that the word is not placed on any double or triple word or letter spaces, unless the trigger words "biscuit" or "chaise-longue" appear in the clue.

Hit parade 
Crossword setters in the 1950s noted the introduction of the singles chart with a rather cynical interest, and quickly realised (being an iconoclastic bunch of godless evolutionists) that they would need to adapt to survive.  All the answers taken together must include the song and artist name of the number one single from the corresponding week 16 years ago.  Originally the number 4 was chosen, but this was increased to 16 by the Geneva Convention.  This provoked far more debate than the more famous rules for treatment of wartime prisoners, which were only whacked together in a frenzy of displacement activity sparked by a particularly tricky 17 across.  Hardcore solvers maintain that the answers must also include the album and label names and at least 16% of the words used in the liner notes.

Sensorationalism
Crosswords are often printed on special paper.  Several trigger words might prompt you to realise that the answer to a clue is already imprinted in barely perceptible Braille - examples are "sight unseen", "dotty" and "red".  The same applies if there are no Is anywhere in the clue.  Running one's hands across the grid before tackling the clues is known is "fumbling", and is frowned upon - accusations of fumbling have marred many international tournaments and ruined promising careers.  Similarly, if the letters of the phrase "inky nostrils" appear anywhere in a clue - in any order - you will need to rub your finger across the corresponding answer spaces and sniff.  Be very careful not to stray into any neighbouring spaces, as these are often infused with powerful and deeply unpleasant scents designed to lead you astray.  Cruciverbalists with wandering hands frequently suffer crippling bouts of anosmia.

Armed with these tools, you should have any crossword puzzle wrapped around your little finger!  But not literally, because the clues will be illegible, you won't be able to fill in the answers and your finger will get covered in ink.

Kinetica Art Fair 2011

Kinetica is the equivalent of the Royal Academy's summer exhibition, but for younger people who don't like wading through 173 still lifes of vegetables and lumpy pots.  Tucked away surreptitiously in a warehouse space opposite Baker Street tube station, I hadn't heard of it until Twitter celebrity @squeezeomatic alerted me to its existence.  Four things prompted me to pop along: her photos, my boredom, the 205 bus route and my misapprehension that it was free. 

To quote from their website, the fair provides a platform for artists who "focus on universal concepts and evolutionary processes though the convergence of kinetic, electronic, robotic, sound, light, time-based and multi-disciplinary new media art, science and technology".  In other words, does it go bleep bleep, whirr whirr or flash bright colours at people?  If you said yes, you're in.  Here's a quick sample of some of my favourite exhibits that made the cut.

If you're so inclined, you can see the rest of my photos here.

The fair ended on Sunday and I assume everything has been sold.  Hopefully it'll be back in 2012 with more robot dogs, wind-up mermaids and neon heads than you can shake a flux capacitor at.

Valentine's Day: What not to do

Handy hints for those of you who only feel compelled to express your feelings as and when the greetings card industry dictates that you must 

Don't get a scuba diver to propose at the London Aquarium 
How is this supposed to work?  'Ahem… look over there darling, it's a beautiful and conveniently placed shoal of fish.  Oh wait, what's that strange man doing swimming around in the tank?  No, don't call security, let him get a bit closer.  Closer… there!  Look at that tacky sign with the heartfelt clip-art.  He wants you to marry me!  What do you mean you never want to see me again?'  It ticks all the boxes really.   Getting someone else to propose for you because you're an emotionless and cowardly icicle?  Tick!  Embarrassing the person you love most at a mediocre tourist attraction (I've set up better aquaria in my living room, without even the assistance of flooding or Endless Ocean)?  Tick!  Finding an unnecessarily expensive way to obliterate your long-term relationship?  Tick!  And there you have it.  If your partner is waiting for you to pop the question and you want out, this could be the perfect escape route.  It looks like you tried, there's absolutely no risk of them saying yes, and it'll make a brilliant anecdote. 

Don't buy them a compilation of cheesy love songs
Giving someone The Greatest Valentine's Day Album… Ever! (note: other titles are available) doesn't say 'I love you'.  It says 'I can't be bothered to show or tell you how I feel, so here are some songs written by people who aren't me about people who aren't you selected by people who aren't either of us'.  It says 'I was desperately trawling high-street chain stores at the last minute and this had some hearts on it'.  It's a cop-out. It's not even an afterthought, it's an instead-of-thought.  If your heart is set on giving music, you'd better sit down at the piano or make your own mixtape.  Even then, it had better be part of something bigger.

Don't go and watch Blue Valentine 
It does say Valentine in the title, so I can imagine research-intolerant people making this mistake.  Don't do it.  You'll either find it harrowing and sad, or (like me) wonder why on earth it's received so much praise.  I have no complaints about the central performances (though any nominations are based more on percentage screen time than wonderful acting), but the characters are thoroughly unlikeable and the ending inevitable.  Either way, the last thing you'll feel coming out of the cinema is romantic.  Possibly depressed, probably disappointed, certainly poorer: or, to put it another way, like you've just broken up.  The satisfaction of recognising Rawls from The Wire might not be enough to rescue your evening.

Don't spend all your money on a guided tour of the Freud Museum 
I quite fancy a trip to the Freud Museum, but not like this.  Not an intimate guided tour for two surrounded by the paraphernalia of questioning your desires.  Not for £125, no matter how many Freudian gifts they might slip into the promised (and worryingly vague) "goody bag".  And certainly not for the extra prosecco and mouth-ticklers you'd get on a £150 deluxe tour.  'Happy Valentine's Day, darling.  But why are we REALLY here?'  This is no time to present your true love with an intense voyage of self-discovery and a chocolate phallus.

The kigu, the secret

(Title by kind indifference of Urban Cookie Collective)

Kigus are animal costumes inspired by Japanese kigurumi, performers who dress as cuddly toys.  They're fuzzy onesies with hoods and tails.  They're also machine washable, and perfect for every occasion.  I have the dinosaur.

I've spent quite a bit of time trying and failing to work out what kind of dinosaur I am.  I mean, it is. Obviously.  Ahem.  I suppose the hood is disproportionately large compared to the head - does that make it a pachycephalosaurus?  It has little spikes down the back, so it could be a stegosaurus.  Then again, those genera are both herbivores: what would they do with the pointy teeth?  I'd hate to live in a world where people didn't worry about these things.  Classify me?

I've worn my kigu to restaurants, pubs, birthday parties and burlesque Hallowe'en balls.  I've lazed around in it, I've washed the dishes in it, I've danced in it and I've even written the first 163 words of a blog post in it.  Have I learned anything from these experiences?  No, with the possible exception of finding out exactly how much drunk people like furry dinosaurs.  It's like being a dinosaur in nymphoid barbarian hell.  Seriously, it's just fun to wear.  There's nothing you can't improve by doing it dressed as a dinosaur.  It even comes with its own theme song.

Finally acquiring a tail without having to wait for those genetic science dullards to catch up (STILL trying to cure cancer?!) has changed my life for the better.  I think I must be ahead of the dinosaur curve: I've already considered evolving into a bird kigu.  I might be there already if my girlfriend hadn't sneakily bought herself the penguin.

I remember when dressing up was just dressing up.  Cosplay ('costume play') and yiffing ('please don't ever ask') hadn't been invented by the furry fandom ('oh good lord people actually call themselves that').   Instead of googling those terrifying terms, just do yourself a favour and spend £40 on your very own kigu.  But make sure you only use your formidable new powers for good.

Why you (yes, you) should watch the Superbowl tonight

It's really good and there will be men running about doing clever things with a ball and stuff

I've only rediscovered my interest in American football this season - it's been dormant since Gary Imlach's 'Blitz' disappeared from Channel 4 in the early 90s.  Like most rugby union and association football fans, an assumption that it was a stop-start game of padded mercenaries running into each other had lodged itself in my mind.  One early-season game on Sky was all it took to get me hooked again.

People say the players are overpaid.  That's true, but (unlike the Premier League) it doesn't skew the championship in favour of big spenders - for two reasons.  First, there's a salary cap.  Second, the top college players are picked by the teams in an annual draft in a sequence which depends on their performance in previous seasons.  The worse you did last year, the sooner you get to pick this time. Every team has star players.  Every team starts the year with a realistic chance of winning the championship.

People say American football teams move thousands of miles to follow money, making the MK Dons story look like a fairytale.  That's true (take a bow, St Louis Rams), but it happens very rarely.  Most teams are long-established and have stayed put - this year's finalists were both founded between the wars. 

People say the players are cosseted and wrapped in cotton wool.  It's true that they wear a lot of padding, but a quick glance at the injury lists will confirm that games are still intensely competitive - perhaps the padding gives the players more scope to commit to tackles and runs.  You won't find much diving here.

People say there's too much time where nothing is happening.  It's true, each match lasts about three hours for only 60 minutes of play.  But that doesn't make it boring.  Unlike other sports, every possession means something, even if no points are immediately scored.  Will the team with the ball be able to advance 10 yards up the field for a first down?  Will the defence be able to plot an interception or force a fumble to recover possession?  Each play is a fast-moving quick-thinking game of chess - one team's defensive coordinator pitched against the opposing team's offensive coordinator, deciding whether to run or throw, blitz or cover every receiver, drop back for extra passing time or stand and deliver.  The additional time outs teams can take just provide more scope for tactical manoeuvring.  Even if you disagree, the gaps in play provide more time to discuss the game and have a pint with your friends.

Tonight's season-ending showpiece pits the Green Bay Packers against the Pittsburgh Steelers - two of the most successful teams in the history of the sport.  Green Bay (a tiny town in Wisconsin) makes the cheese; Pittsburgh makes the implements to cut it with. Yes, it's the rather appetising Cheese Knife Derby.  Well, it would be if I had my way.  Both teams have great quarterbacks and aggressive defences - they'll be playing very hard and leaving everything on the field.  It's being played in the most advanced stadium in the world in front of 100,000 noisy fans, many of whom will be wearing wedges of cheese on their heads.  Billions will be watching around the world.

Get some beers, pick a team to support, switch to BBC or Sky Sports 1 and enjoy the fun.  I'm predicting a 31-20 win for the Packers.  Bring it on!

Just the one Sunday morning puzzle

I was planning to post another pair of puzzles today.  I was.  Then I rediscovered one of my favourites and stopped looking.

PuzzleDonkey was a brilliant site that ran for quite a few years - it shut up shop in 2006 and recently reappeared as a Facebook app (which might now also have bitten the dust).  The fiendish premise was that you had to solve each puzzle to access the next.  As I recall, there were three sets of 100 puzzles each to work your way through.  No entry fees and no prizes, just satisfaction and plenty of people on hand with helpful hints (but never spoilers).  Obsessive CS Lewis fans (I guess someone has to do it) will probably appreciate the name.

This puzzle is called 'Whendunnit?', and I think it appeared in the third set.  Get ready for some detective work.

"Tell me again how you spent the night of the murder," said Inspector Pereira.  Irving shook his head in protest.

"I tells you, there's nuthin' you don't know!  I spent the morning here at home, fixin' the stairs.  Then I took Maggie out to lunch.  It was her birthday last month, and we didn't do nothin' at the time, so I thought I'd give her a treat."

"And then you came home?"

"Sure we did.  I wanted to take her shopping, but she pointed out there were a lot of jobs to do at home.  She's real practical like that - a typical Capricorn, you know?  Then in the evenin' I watched the tube and Maggie read her book.  Watership Down or somethin' like that.  Yeah, we were here for the rest of the day.  Leastways, 'til twenty before two in the morning."

"What happened then?"

"The puppy escapes, don't it.  So here's me, chasin' it down the street like a mug.  All the way to Huffman Mill and across Huffman Bridge.  Took me an age to catch the little feller."

"And then you came home again?"

"Yeah, dat's right.  I came home, to find Maggie lyin' dead. I looks up at the clock - says it's nearly four o'clock, but that don't seem right, since I thinks I've only been gone an hour or so... but, but, I dunno... I was in shock, ya know?"

Inspector Pereira did know.  What he didn't know, unfortunately, was who killed Maggie.  But at least he knew the date of her death - that was a good start.

I bet you do too.

Top 10: Songs about libraries

What are libraries for?  Free access to information and escapism for everyone, regardless of means or background.  But since I live in a country where that doesn't matter any more, I'm hoping that some obscure lyrical references might tip the balance back in their favour.

The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart - Young Adult Friction 
Taken from my favourite album of 2009 - an award inexplicably missing from their Wikipedia page - this song is about library sex.  Which, when you think about it, makes perfect sense.  Power is an aphrodisiac.  Knowledge is power.  Libraries house knowledge.  Students hang out in libraries.  Students sometimes have sex with each other.  I may have taken this several steps too far.  Anyway, take all that and add a gentle dusting of easy book puns and you've grabbed (and held) my attention.

Hefner - The Librarian 
A selfish and stupid daydream about seducing a librarian by borrowing impressive books somehow sounds exquisite.  Was it really the inspiration for She's All That?  I guess we'll never know for sure.

Camera Obscura - French Navy 
It's almost impossible to criticise this perfect song, but I'm going to: it doesn't belong on this list.  There, I said it.  Tracyanne Campbell is sitting around in a library waiting for inspiration, when someone great suddenly turns up and makes everything better.  What was so bad about the library, Tracyanne?  What did you need rescuing from?  And why did you throw in a defensive reference to your decision to let Tesco use one of your other songs?

The Magnetic Fields - Swinging London 
Short and sweet, like so many of the best Magnetic Fields songs.  Just like French Navy, the library is the start of something: this time, it's the high water mark, recalled with affection.  If (like me) you enjoy/can't seem to stop poring over lyrics, you could probably waste hours contemplating the possessive reference to "your library".  Bookworms don't just have local pubs.

Of Montreal - In The Army Kid 
Another song about women and libraries.  Half-hearted lyrics and very little to say.  Why did I include this?  Ah yes, because there aren't many songs about libraries.  Carry on.  Nothing to see here.  Certainly nothing to waste much of your precious time listening to.

MC Poindexter and the Study Crew - Library Rap 
"Get out of my face while I'm readin' my Keats!"  I'd forgotten all about this.  10,000 super-duper special bonus points to YouTube for the assist.

Cursor Miner - Library 
"The library, the library / It's a place where books are free! / The library, the library / Librarians are often sexy".  If anyone has cash or desire to invest in a promotional campaign, this should be its infuriatingly catchy soundtrack.  I refuse to use the "word" 'earworm' on principle.  Perhaps there's a public institution somewhere out there that could help me find a better alternative?  Not for long.

The Low Anthem - To The Ghosts Who Write History Books 
This song is a very helpful set of instructions handed out by its amanuensis protagonist to a gaggle of literary ghosts doing their research in a library.  Or is it?  You probably won't listen to it, so I can and will claim whatever I want to crowbar it into this list. 

E - Manchester Girl 
I have nothing positive to associate with Manchester except for this song, which must have been written by someone who had never been there.  Perhaps there's another Manchester in California, jam-packed with desirable bookish introverts.  I want that one.

Manic Street Preachers - A Design For Life 
"Libraries gave us power / Then work came and made us free".  Someone must have whispered this in Gideon Osborne's ear around the cabinet table at decision time.  He hasn't eaten since.

PS Only nine of these songs are available on Spotify, so I've thrown in Enjoy Your Worries, You May Never Have Them Again by The Books.  That's THE BOOKS.  Like what libraries have in them.  Enjoy!

How can there be a Museum of Everything?

My answer after my first visit 12 months ago would have been: there can't and there isn't, there's just a bleeding-edge hotchpotch of aggregated detritus that no-one has bothered to curate into a coherent whole.  I went back this weekend, and it's improved out of sight. 

On hearing about the Museum of Everything, my first impression was: "aha! At last. The perfect storm of hipster bullshit".  Its opening hours and days seemed to have been chosen by throwing blindfolded at calendars and clocks, it's situated in yummy Primrose Hill, and its name is patently absurd.  I went to see their second exhibition and wasn't given a reason to change my mind.  The exhibits had very little in common and the rickety space was poorly used.  As names go, 'Museum of Anything' would have better described their selection policy.  A few of the items on show were fascinating, but seeing each felt like finding a hidden gem at an overcrowded garage sale, without even the satisfaction of being able to take it home with you.  There was no context, no narrative, no thread to follow: just clutter.  As themes go, 'Museum of Nothing' would have… well, you get the idea.

My return was only motivated by convenience and coincidence: my girlfriend had something else to do in Camden and we needed to kill an hour.  I had no idea that Peter Blake had played a role in compiling their new show, but his name at the front door provided a much-needed counterpoint to my overwhelming pessimism.

Exhibition #3 is filled with taxidermy dioramas and circus paraphernalia.  Fairground attractions and their flyers line many of the walls: big and small, human and mechanical.  There's a lot to take in, but just enough space to let you achieve that.  Posed squirrels, performing midgets, ghoulish marionettes, shell grottos, miniature ferris wheels: all competing for your attention, but neatly separated so as not to overwhelm.  This time, the care and energy that's been applied to choosing items and placing them translates into a much more enjoyable experience.  The promotional floor-to-ceiling circus canvasses (presenting each showcased freak with a starburst footnote proclaiming them 'ALIVE!') and traditional American fairground attractions are stunning, and anyone who's ever peeked through the bars at Essex Road's legendary Get Stuffed will enjoy the bloodied boxing rodents and presentation of Who Killed Cock Robin?  Turning to the most important feature of any gallery, they've even done a half-decent job of setting up a functional gift shop.

All in all, free entry seemed a lot less expensive second time around.  Exhibition #3 has been extended to finish on Friday 11 February: even stuffed squirrels need a holiday.  Catch them while you can.  It's pretty easy; they can't run away.

Another two Sunday morning puzzles

Numbers and letters.

First up, a gentle mental stretch: what comes next in this sequence?

All warmed up and ready for a proper workout?  Excellent.

Just like last week, our second puzzle comes from the first season of PerplexCity.  This is definitely harder than last week's card - you might notice that we've graduated from the blue set to the purples.  Warning: cracking the premise is much more satisfying than arriving at the actual answer...

Top 10: Songs about pirates

If you spend even a little time seeking out songs about pirates, the first thing you'll notice is this: there are very few.  Almost none, in fact.  This guide should help.

Logan Whitehurst And The Junior Science Club - Bonebeard, The Dinosaur Pirate From Space
This does exactly what it says on the tin - 72 seconds of silliness.  Probably the Google-friendliest children's song ever written.

Tom Waits - Singapore
If there's one thing The Waits Voice perfectly suits, it's deranged, drug-addled rantings about stevedores.

The Arrogant Worms - The Last Saskatchewan Pirate
An extremely obscure Canadian novelty band, this underappreciated song asks the big questions of the age: why don't more unemployed people become pirates, and what good would they be in the landlocked heart of agricultural Canada?

Loudon Wainwright - Good Ship Venus
This song doesn't specifically identify its rogue's gallery of characters as pirates, but take a listen anyway.  Piracy would have been pretty low down the list of sins on the Good Ship Venus...

Edith Piaf - Le Chant Du Pirate
If you ever want to hear some Rs get royally rolled, good old Edith's pronunciation of 'brrrrigand' and 'corsairrrre' should tide you over.  Yes, I said tide.  This is about pirates.  Keep up.

Bryan Ferry and Antony Hegarty - Lowlands Low
I'm no Antony fan, but his voice is put to good use here.  Perhaps he should play second fiddle more often.  But singing, not fiddling.  Obviously.  Yes.

Adam And The Ants - Jolly Roger
Vagabonds and vexillologists of the world unite!  I like short songs and whistling, so this ticks both boxes.  Very few other boxes, but definitely those two.

Alela Diane - The Pirate's Gospel
Surprisingly gentle.  Definitely not recommended for fans of raping and pillaging (such as, for example, pirates).

Stephen Malkmus - The Hook
If you've ever been kidnapped by Turkish pirates, got confused about whether they could accurately be described as Cypriots and ended up graduating from lucky mascot to captain, this song will trigger all sorts of happy memories.  Hardly his finest hour, but the lyrics are at least ludicrous enough to liven it up a bit.

The Curse Of Monkey Island - A Pirate I Was Meant To Be
Probably the only song ever in which the protagonist (Guybrush Threepwood) wins the day by judicious use of the word 'orange'.

For the sake of completeness and aural improvement, here are five more superb songs which are almost about pirates.

Sparkle Moore - Skull And Crossbones
No pirates, just poison.  This appears on a compilation of favourite songs chosen by The Cramps, and therefore has unimpeachable credentials.  Don't even try impeaching them; you'll only embarrass yourself.

Beirut - Prenzlauerberg
In so far as it's ever possible to work out what Zach Condon is warbling on about, this song is very clearly not about pirates.  But it really, REALLY sounds like it should be.

Les Savy Fav - Our Coastal Hymn
No pirates, just a rousing set of instructions to be used if Tim Harrington dies at the seaside.  Take note.

Beasts Of Bourbon - Chase The Dragon
Pirates are no more than wet smugglers, right?  Let's just say that Beasts Of Bourbon have clearly misread The Dead Kennedys' travel guide for holidaymakers visiting Cambodia.

The Decemberists - The Mariner's Revenge Song
Does a fraudulent cad who happens to captain ships for a living qualify as a pirate?  I'm saying no.  Nevertheless, this song is indescribably fun and deserves not to be spoiled for the uninitiated.  Just remember to bring your best impression of being eaten by a grumpy cetacean when I force you to listen to my nine-minute Colin Meloy impression.

Why I hate festivals

I'm fed up of everyone assuming that I ought to like festivals because I like guitar music, so I'm taking it out on you.  Even if my 10 favourite bands were booked to appear on the same day in a park within walking distance of my flat for a reasonable price, I still wouldn't go.  This is why.

Sound - this is important, so pay attention.  Music sounds rubbish outdoors.  It does.  If you disagree, you either hadn't heard that particular music before or it was always rubbish or you were too drunk to care.  Music, like claustrophobia, works best in confined spaces.  Lift music must just be the exception which proves that ill-considered rule.  It doesn't deserve to be mistreated this way.

Proximity - live music works best when you're within 100 yards of it.  Good luck getting closer than that for the main acts at a large festival.  I remember getting to the front for the White Stripes at Reading one year - I literally couldn't put my feet back on the ground for about half an hour; I think they had to stop the band at one point.  If you're tempted to try, remember this - towards the end of the day, everyone at the front is either racked with dehydration-induced hallucinations or they're surrounded by their own urine.  Do you want to be stuck touching them?

Cost - festivals cost far too much, especially when you factor in travel and the disgusting food and drink you're forced to buy on site.  As I understand it, they usually turn a pretty big profit.  I'd rather book for specific bands that I definitely want to see, in places where I want to see them - even if that means spending £300 on gigs each year. 

Blocked chemical toilets, food poisoning, no showers - not for me, thanks all the same.  I'm sure things are slightly different at ATP, but if I wanted to spend all day surrounded by middle-class hipsters I'd just walk to Shoreditch.  Hygiene shouldn't be reserved for VIPs. 

You people - stoners, students and hippies, the lot of you.  Most of you have terrible taste.  Some of you know absolutely nothing about any of the bands and have just come to buy drugs, like an expensive and protracted trip to a very busy cash and carry.  You're pushy, rude, dirty and badly dressed.  I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to stand downwind of you and I certainly don't want to hear you strum your guitar all night.  You can't play, you're awful, give up and go read a book.  Just fuck the fuck off.

Album review: Dye It Blonde by Smith Westerns

Never judge an album by its big dumb title 

Smith Westerns are a three-piece band from Chicago whose aggregate age makes them younger than my dad.  They're so young, in fact, that my friend went to one of their gigs with their babysitter.  I would say 'former babysitter', but I doubt she ever tendered a formal resignation.  All this probably means they should be apeing Animal Collective or some other zeitgeisty bullshit - fortunately, they've been stuffing their little faces full of delicious glam-rock instead. 

They released their first album last year, having snuck one of its songs (My Heart) onto the annual Rough Trade Counter Culture compilation.  For me, that single suffered from the same basic drawback as the rest of the album: poor mixing and too much feedback.  That sound would suit a lot of bands, but not one for whom it was so obviously obscuring their main selling point - neatly constructed three-minute guitar pop songs.

This album corrects that glaring flaw.  Either someone pointed it out, or touring has given them the confidence to let their songwriting speak for itself.  That's not to say they've lost their edge - they've simply refined it for sharing.  Just like its predecessor, Dye It Blonde is littered with infectious melodies: now you can actually hear them.  If you've come across new single Weekend, chances are you've already whistled the riff in the shower.  Yes, we're back in the 70s - but this is 70s rock as lovingly reinterpreted by Britpop's Bowie acolytes while these guys were busy being born, with most of the anachronistic cock-rock missteps safely tucked away.  Suede should be proud.  Free Energy should be taking notes.

All Die Young is the pivotal track - Smith Westerns could follow its mantra and still have time to make ten years of brilliant music first.  They probably won't, but Dye It Blonde is still a giant leap towards a consistent and reliable pitch.  If you haven't already found Smith Westerns lurking in a hazy beer-soaked bar, you might just catch them lighting up a small festival stage this summer.

Two Sunday morning puzzles

What comes next?

Puzzle number one is borrowed from The Oxford Murders, a mediocre crime thriller that earned itself far too much attention by being (a) translated from a foreign language, and (b) set in an English city that Americans would recognise.  Like most middle-class people with a tenuous connection to Oxford in 2005 (I happened to be studying there), I was bought a copy for Christmas and waded my way to the end.  The drawing skills are all my own.

Puzzle number two is card #135 from season one of Mind Candy's PerplexCity.  PerplexCity was an immersive online treasure hunt to find a real-world prize of £100,000, which lasted two years and ended in 2007.  There were 256 cards in the first season, and to find the treasure you needed to solve the cards and identify complex patterns overlaid on maps or running across sets.  The cards came in foil packs of six and you could buy them at Borders and Firebox.  Two of the cards are so hard that they've never been solved.  This one isn't quite in that league, but should still make you think.

Solved them?  Need hints?  Tell me, but don't post the answers!

If you'd like a packet of cards from PerplexCity season two, feel free to email me.

Album review: The King Is Dead by The Decemberists

Talented people forget why they were special; make boring music very competently 

I like the Decemberists a hell of a lot.  Probably their music more than their personalities, but I couldn't care less about the latter.  And that's despite Colin Meloy's excellent '33 1/3' book, which is a little bit about The Replacements' wonderful Let It Be (as billed) and an awful lot more about his childhood in Montana.  Anyway, it's been about 18 months since their last album, so I guess they decided it was time to churn out another.  So they went to an isolated farm with no ideas and hordes of celebrity collaborators (including ubiquitous professional celebrity collaborator Peter Buck), and strummed themselves off for the summer.

I can't imagine many people liking this album - I certainly don't.  Decemberists fans like me will buy it in their droves - and quite right too, because funding the next one can only help to rehabilitate them.  But I'd imagine they'll be split into two intensely disappointed camps.  The first camp will wonder where the grand ambition and narrative drive of The Hazards Of Love has disappeared to.  The second camp wasn't that bothered about The Hazards Of Love, but will still wonder why there are no wry, twee, aching songs about pirates, legionnaires, Chinese trapeze artists or even whales - no drama, no strings; where are the indulgences and reveries which defined their music?  Anyone hearing them for the first time will probably think 'gosh, it's pleasant enough, but I hope there are more exciting incarnations of Americana… that bearded, bespectacled indie guy who bought it for me is so very dumped'.  Either that or they'll regret not waiting for the songs to come round on the Decemberists-themed episode of Glee.  I wish they'd at least answer my letters.

It's hard to tell whether the country inflections (HARMONICA?!) are a designed and lasting change of direction.  Maybe Meloy was so hurt by some of the criticism aimed at The Hazards Of Love that he took it to heart and has skulked back to basics.  Or maybe, just maybe, this is his incredibly cunning one-off revenge: hey naysayers, this is what we sound like when all the things you claim to hate are gone.  Yes, much worse.  Now where did I put my encyclopaedic dictionary and big book of Victorian heartbreak stories for boys?  I'd love to overestimate him and assume the latter.

Some of these songs would have been dismissed out-of-hand as Tarkio album tracks.  I assume 'January Hymn' is going to be a (the?) single - releasing it in the next 10 days would probably help.  In any case, it's the only song I can remember after listening to the album three times back-to-back.  Best case scenario, The King Is Dead will prove to have been a parenthetical afterthought to fill a scheduling gap while they plot another masterpiece.  More likely these songs are intended as light, fleet-footed classics - but there's a awfully big ocean between timeless and sparkless; between pastoral and pastiche.

It pains me to say it, but this album has all the hallmarks of a band with no stories left to tell - for now, at least.  The lyrics are still book-fresh, but the intricately carved characters and playful wit of previous albums are gone.  I want to have to listen, not just hear it in the background while doing other things and forget it all instantly.  It's inoffensive and turgid, and I expect far better because they've consistently produced better.  Come back, Chimbley Sweep - all is forgiven.

UK Government asks: "Whose sheep are you anyway?"

Has it really been ten years since the last census?  Well, no.  Not quite.  But in two short months, you can expect to find your letterbox stuffed full of questions that you are legally obliged to answer.  PARTY TIME.

The most interesting feature of the last census was the introduction of a voluntary question asking people to state their religion for the first time since 1851.  The nation responded with unexpected enthusiasm: only 8% said nothing at all.  72% said Christian, 15% no religion, 3% Muslim and 1% Hindu.  Which major world religion came next?  Judaism?  Sikhism?  Buddhism?  No.  Inspired by the success of a similar campaign in New Zealand, more than 390,000 people declared themselves to be Jedi Knights.

The new census form has already been published and can be seen here, with apologies for the dodgy link.  'Jedi Knight' is still not listed as an answer (hate crime?), but the 'other' box remains gloriously, dangerously blank.  After a decade of being shouted down by census-citers, the British Humanist Association has recognised the risk that this presents to their cause.  Their campaign - "If you're not religious, for God's sake say so!" - does pretty much what it says on the inevitable bumper sticker.  In other words, stop dicking around with ponderous film franchises or saying what you think your mum would like to hear, and honestly answer 'no religion'.  But in true British style, every conceivable sect, cause and peccadillo is piling in to grab a piece of the action.  The BHA has any number of fights on its hands.

Government policy apparently states that any religion recorded in the census as having at least 10,000 followers will be recognised as a minority for which provision must be made in public institutions.  Let's take a quick canter through some of the groups trying to make sure they snare these benefits.  Jains?  Of course.  Holistic Spiritualists?  You bet (or not, they probably wouldn't like it).  Pagans, wiccans, druids and animists?  Naturally.  Even heavy metal fans and Pokemon players have their own organised Facebook campaigns.  With climate change and Thelema recently recognised as potentially capable of formal designation as beliefs deserving legal protection, census counters are going to have all sorts of fun sorting this mess out.

My view?  Cherish your one opportunity not to answer.  You're going to have to tell the Government about every other aspect of your life (including sexual habits).  Save the memes for the internet, and leave the blank space blank.

The Urethra Postcard Art of Gilbert & George

On Saturday I went to a gallery named after a shape to look at rectangular things laid out in rectangles. 

Gilbert & George have collected baker's dozens of identical postcards from London phoneboxes and gift shops for decades.  The postcards feature adverts for niche sex workers, phallic London monuments or flags incorporating the Union Flag.  I'm surprised no-one noticed their hoarding - I can't really imagine them dressing down, or doing anything incognito.  Perhaps they despatched work experience minions, or hired ringers whose assumed names also begin with G.  Anyway, they've decided that laying out 12 postcards to form a frame around a central one - with all 13 featuring the same design - creates a sexual image representing a sort of masculine urethra.  Leaving questions of anatomical inconvenience to one side (sharp corners? Just think of the paper cuts), this begs an important question.

Can you enjoy an exhibition when its fundamental premise is such absolute horsepiffle, hogwash and quite possibly weaselcleanser?  Well, yes.  Yes, you can, here.  Because there's an awful lot to like about it.

As a casual (OK, perhaps smart casual) vexillologist, I can't pretend that the flags didn't help.  Feigning indifference here would be a swizzle of epic proportions, since I spent most of my only visit to New York staring up at the UN building and buying replica flags in their gift shop.  And these weren't just any flags, they were obscure flags of tiny British dependencies.  South Georgia!  Niue!  Tristan da Cunha!  I'd better move on before I lose another post to flag porn, but these names were far more exciting to me than anything written on the prostitutes' calling cards.

Speaking of which, the array of outlandish sexual practices promised around the room would make this exhibition absolutely perfect for a first date. I've always maintained that you can tell a lot about a person from their reaction to phrases such as "still 1/2 girl!", "brown showers" and "I'LL DRAG YOU ROUND MY POSH FLAT BY YOUR NUTS YOU FILTHY VETCH". Also, the exhibition is free, so you can save some money to spend later on dinner. And by dinner I mean alcohol. And if they're teetotal, it wasn't meant to be.

Each arrangement of postcards is very carefully catalogued. I spent quite a bit of time trying to decode the symbols displayed under each title. I've missed my calling as a librarian. There are two rooms in the exhibition - one contains vertical layouts, the other horizontal. The number of arrangements needed for each exhibition is apparently calculated meticulously by Gilbert and George based on a scale model of the gallery, and the arrangements are neatly rolled out to fit. Their approach reminds me of Lászlo Moholy-Nagy and his Bauhaus constructivists, and those fantastic 2006 modernism exhibitions at Tate Modern and the V&A.

Listen - it's free, it's fun, it's filthy, there are flags, and I've somehow managed to finish writing this without once complaining about the lack of a proper gift shop. If that's not a recommendation, I need to go away and look up 'recommendation' again. It's open from 10-6 at White Cube Mason's Yard from Tuesday to Saturday until 19 February. Pop in for half an hour and come out smiling.

A guide to solving cryptic crosswords: part one

I'd only consider spending money on a newspaper for its puzzle page.  There, I said it: celebrity gossip, share prices and mawkish crime reports be damned.  Leaving aside numerical manifestations of Japanese masochism, the Telegraph and Guardian have decent quick crosswords, but the Times cryptic crossword (and Saturday's jumbo in particular) is my absolute favourite.  I can't think of a better way to spend a lazy Sunday morning, train journey or law lecture.  What can I say - I guess I've always craved Inspector Morse's approval.

I know cryptic crosswords can seem impenetrable at first, so I thought I'd explain how I go about solving them.  This isn't intended to be an exhaustive or technical guide because I couldn't possibly write one.  All the examples are taken from yesterday's Times cryptic jumbo.

The first step?  Start simple.  Draw in dividing lines to show where answers with more than one word are going to be split.  It's always good to get your pen warmed up.  And yes, I said pen - stay optimistic.

Let's turn to the clues.  Each clue will include a definition of the answer, as well as everything you need to deduce that answer, within the framework of a plausible sentence.  Every word in the clue is there for a reason.  The most important thing to remember is that the definition will either come at the start or the end of the clue.  So, for example, the answer to "Grand Chinese dynasty that leads a nation (5)" will probably either be a synonym of 'grand' or the name of a country.  In this case, the answer is TONGA. 

There are several different types of crossword clue - some are easier to solve than others.  I always start by looking for anagrams to get the ball rolling - preferably ones where the answer to the clue will be entirely composed of rearranged letters written in that clue.  Partial anagrams are a little harder to solve, but we'll get to that later.  Identifying anagrams isn't difficult - just look for a signpost in the clue. In our crossword, words like 'reorganisation', 'brought about' and even 'crackers' were all included in clues to indicate that the answers would be anagrams.  Once you know you're looking for an anagram, you should be able to work out both which words to rearrange (they're usually sitting next to the signpost), and what the answer should mean, from the rest of the clue.  Remember, every word is there for a reason.  Here's an example: "Properly treated, lilac root's something giving a regular output (10)". 'Properly treated' is the signpost.  The answer will be an anagram of the letters from 'lilac root's', and will mean 'something giving a regular output'.  The answer is OSCILLATOR. 

One of the simplest (and therefore rarest) types is a 'hidden word' clue.  The answer is written out sequentially somewhere in the clue.  It could be backwards or forwards; it could be within one word or run across several.  Signpost words could be 'some', 'in', 'within', and perhaps also 'goes back', 'flipped' or 'overturned' if the answer's letters are reversed in the clue.  In our crossword, "Only some fortnightly returns? It's a start (5)" gives the answer INTRO.  A variation of this type of clue would see the answer's letters written alternately throughout the clue - keep an eye out for the signifying words 'odd' or 'even'. 

Still with me?  Perhaps this is a good time for a nice cup of tea and a sit down.  In part two, we'll fill in all the blanks by deconstructing some more complicated clues.  See you then.