I’m told of an umusing cock-up in the design of the new Wembley Stadium. George Michael was the first non-sport stadium gig recently, but when the big trucks turned up, they found that the opening was three inches too low to be able to drive though onto the pitch, resulting in the need to unload and decant the gear.

Apparently it would have been high enough but there was a slope and they ran foul of trigonometry.

Red faces all around…

Anonymity is a curious thing. Many of us want to be famous, but on our own terms. Some seek the life of a recluse whilst the rest of us are somewhere in between.

Back in the 1940s, The American psychologist Abraham Maslow put forward the theory known as Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, often referred to as Maslow’s triangle or Pyramid. At the base of the pyramid are our primal requirements to survive- eating, sleeping, breathing and so on. The next layer is the safety layer- the security of having somewhere to live, employment, good health and such. Above that is the need for belonging, satisfied by friendship, family and intimacy. The fourth level is labelled esteem and relates to self esteem and respect. We want to be accepted by others, to be recognised as good at what we do and to mix with others of equal calibre. There is the shallow version of this that goes under the title of “Celebrity” where people are accorded fame, respect and glory, often for extremely fatuous reasons (think big brother!) many people can’t cope with this if they have low self esteem and end up on a self-destructive spiral.

(There is an apex to the triangle known as self-actualization but whilst worth a look that isn’t particularly pertinent to this post).

Now, in order to be famous, it was always necessary to be well known. There used to be one notable exception to that- the non-de-plume of an anonymous author. However, with the advent of the Internet, the ability to be an unknown is much more available, but it is far too easy to compromise the cloak of secrecy. Two examples spring to mind, one of them funny.

Here in Morley, a couple of years back, someone set up a website and forum known as the LS27 group. (LS27 is the postcode area of Morley within Leeds). The unknown person did it chiefly for the purposes of winding people up. It became apparent, however, that this person was the same individual who had been impersonating others on a mailing list, by creating various hotmail accounts in the names of others and then posting inflammatory remarks. He gave himself away by his writing style and a consistent quirky use of punctuation. (He also gave himself away by registering the domain in his own name and address!). Events took a sinister turn when someone who had been fixated on somewhat in postings got attacked on the way to work one morning and the police took an interest. I have no idea if there was any connection but the site was quickly pulled. There was a bit of a repeat performance earlier this year on the Town Council mailing list and that was pulled too.

The other (and funnier) example was on a now mostly defunct mailing list known as Tabslist, a backstage UK Theatre list with several hundred techies on it. Every list is obliged to have at least one eccentric, and ours was an Am Dram man known as Frank. He often had controversial views and could generate huge quantities of frustrated angry argument over topics like whether you actually needed ultra violet light to cause fluorescence. Anyway, another list member, exasperated by Frank’s entrenched opinions, did a bit of online digging on him and was bemused to find that he had posted (once) to a Sado-Masochism Usenet newsgroup. It further transpired that he was a regular there under a pseudonym (and alternative email) but had inadvertently posted from his normal address.

His unusal activities laid painfully bare (ooh err!), he gradually went quiet on the Tabslist scene, especially whenever he was dismissively referred to as “Spanky” in replies.

And the moral of the story is? It is much harder to live a lie, as you have to be on your guard at all times and inconsistencies or simple errors will eventually catch you out.

Now blogging has many people in the shadows. Some do it because they have to or they would probably lose their job (David Copperfield, Walking the streets), some do it because they can be much more offensive and rude than would be otherwise possible without the cloak (Devils Kitchen, Mutley). Others do it to adopt a persona they would much rather be. (Chip dale? discuss!) I imagine a few do it because they don’t want their mates or immediate family to know it is them, for whatever reason.

I have personally dabbled with anonymity previously mainly for the purposes of lurking in things that I am vaguely interested in but don’t necessarily want to get roped into (or sometimes, roped into again after previous involvement). I have never felt a particular urge to set up a furtive hate site but there again perhaps I’ve never quite felt strongly enough!

Moving on to second life, anonymity rises to another level. You get to choose your name (freeform first name, a large list of last names). Many bloggers have chosen the name “Writer”. I personally chose “Furse” as W.J. Furse and Co. of Nottingham built the original post-war Delicolor systems, an on-line badge that I adopted for quirky reasons a decade ago. You get to choose what you look like, which can closely resemble real life, or can be wildly different. You get to choose how much information you reveal about yourself, from nothing to everything.

So, when you talk to somebody, how do you know they are what they say they are? When you are flirting with that real stunner, could she really be a spotty teenage boy with bad breath in his back bedroom in Luton?

The simple answer is you don’t, but as ever, it is harder to consistently lie than to just be yourself (which comes easy!) so you have to use your hunches. As the punchline of the famous joke goes, “You shag one sheep…”

I’ll be at the Blogpower Awards at 2pm Morley time on Sunday. Note to would-be burglars- I’ll be at home as well, because it is happening in a make-believe place.

I’ve been dipping in and out of the place and chilling with some other bloggers. Here is Ozzie Jocko doing a Mick Jagger impression. Nice Clobber, Mate!

Well, our PresidentPrime Minister has stood down, to be replaced by someone different, but just as damaging. I’ve had a lot in my inbox about this, but two particularly caught my eye…

The first is a rather uncomplimentary. What could Tony have done to deserve this? Oh, hang on…

Tony Blair: The Traitor Departs
by Sean Gabb

As I write, Tony Blair is about to stop being Prime Minister. I have waited ten years to see this day. I will celebrate later today by opening a bottle of champagne. In the meantime, I will make the briefest possible farewell to the man.

I am told Mr Blair has a heart condition. I hope this kills him within five years, and that no day between now and then will be other than filled with pain. I hope that fears of being arrested as a war criminal will keep him from seeing anywhere nice in Europe again. I hope that his lecture tours of America will be ruined by popular demonstrations against him and by the tort lawyers. I hope his new job as an envoy in the Levant will end in bitter disappointment. I hope his business ventures will all end in disaster. I hope that death, when it comes, will find a man broken in body and soul.

Of course, he could not have completed the transformation of England into a panopticon police state without the collaboration of an entire political class, and the indifference of the human sheep in the street. Nor could he have taken us so disgracefully to war but for the greed and stupidity of all around him, and for the moral cowardice of the chiefs of staff. But for ten years, he was in charge of things, and he did more than anyone else to drive them forward. It is only fitting that he should receive the greater part of the moral blame.

I have done with the man. I wish him dead, but only after much suffering. Better still, I wish he had never been born.

The second is a warning from the Adam Smith Institute that westminster isn’t quite the desirable area it sounds:

By the way, it may be Gordon Brown’s dream home, but Downing Street is in a seedier area than folk imagine. In a council house just over the back fence lives an extended family run by a grumpy old woman who keeps a pack of fierce dogs. Her husband makes racist comments and a local shopkeeper says he murdered his son’s girlfriend – but the police do nothing. Most of their kids have broken marriages, and their grandchildren are always out clubbing. They all live off the state, and every day the papers are full of their excesses. Who’d want to live near Buckingham Palace?

The blogpower awards ceremony rehearsal. It could have gone a bit better, but it’ll be alright on the night, we hope…

Hat tip the Splund, as mentioned by Tom Paine.