A Tennant Family Christmas

Proving that Brits are as fickle with their affections as always, one of the most popular men on television is under attack this week. His crime? Being on telly too much.


David Tennant, the charming and talented star of Doctor Who, has popped up on the BBC over 75 times in the last few weeks - and the tabloids are getting their knickers in a twist about it.

The Shropshire Star wrote an amusing article satirically claiming that the BBC had made a formal apology after failing to mention David Tennant or Doctor Who for a complete hour.

BBC executives today apologised after a mistake meant there was no mention of the actor David Tennant on radio and television for at least an hour. Full
story here.

Conservative MP Nigel Evans proved that whatever the issue, there's always a Tory MP to wheel out and complain about it, by hissing:

“'Even the most dedicated fan might have thought that the BBC was turning into the David Tennant Corporation." Full story here.

But personally, I'm delighted. Admittedly, living in America I don't actually have to watch BBC, but I like David Tennant and I can't blame the Beeb for flaunting one of their strongest assets.

Besides, he's leaving Doctor Who on New Year's Day, so even if you've reached your David Tennant Saturation Point, you won't have to put up with it for long.

Speaking of which, did anybody see Doctor Who: The End of Time on Christmas Day? I was able to find it on YouTube - and thought it was rubbish.

Russell T. Davies, as I've written about incessantly, is a magnificent producer - but a lousy writer. As Torchwood proved, scripts by Davies are gloomy, morose, overly obsessed with the pointless death of characters and shoehorned full of Welshness, gayness or political punditry.

Not that I have anything against the Welsh (lived there for three years) the gays (I write for Out Front Colorado) or political punditry - but Davies crams it into the script so clumsily that it seems awkward, strained and distracting.

And The End of Time? What the hell was all that rubbish about? The Doctor blubbing in a cafe? The green, spiky aliens (Who lived up to its low-budget heritage with that one) and an utterly preposterous plot which saw The Master turn every human on the planet into a carbon copy of... himself?

Crikey, I could have written a better send off for David Tennant myself (only I don't 'do' fanfiction - not because I'm a snob, but because it doesn't pay.)

Anyway. I think the BBC owes it to David Tennant to give him as much airtime as he wants. After all, they've got to make up for the awful shambles that was The End of Time somehow.

The Invasion of the Cheerios!

Becoming a parent, I have noticed one worrying phenomenon: There is not a single part of my life that has not been colonised by Cheerios.

Cheerios - the delicious 'o' shaped breakfast cereal, made by General Mills - are a staple part of any new parent's arsenal. They're delicious, nutritious and perfectly proportioned for pudgy little fingers. Mini Militant scoffs them by the tiny fistful.

Yet Cheerios have more nefarious characteristics. They bounce, they roll and they're small enough to get everywhere.

• On the sink in the bathroom.


• In the bed.


• On the dashboard of my car.


• In my laptop bag (apparently Mini Militant was hording them.)

In fact, I don't think there's a single place in the house that Cheerios haven't hidden themselves away in. I AM BESET ON ALL SIDES BY CHEERIOS!

That reminds me. I need to get some milk.

Coming to America (via Broadway)

I'm very useful at parties. Not only do I know how to make a wide variety of cocktails, can polish off the sausage rolls before they go stale and have been known to take a boyish stab and clearing up - I also enjoy talking to people.

Especially old people (and no, Maman et Papa, I'm not talking about people of your vintage. I mean old!)

I think it's because I'm a history major, but I have something of a rare appreciation for old people. Most folks my age think their elderly relatives are boring, time consuming and simply past it. I find them fascinating - since they're as close to living history as it's possible to get.

Which is why I'm useful at parties. As long as I'm supplied with a gin and tonic and the aforementioned sausage rolls, I can quite happily listen to old folks go on for hours.

Like at a Christmas party I recently attended - in which I was 'saddled' with talking to a lovely 86-year-old woman from Italy.

She was real 'Godfather' material - arriving fresh off the boat from Sicily in 1945. Back then, as a bare-footed teenager escaping the devastation of World War II, she hardly spoke a word of English and had no friends or family to speak of.

Talking to her was fascinating. Can you believe this woman grew up during Mussolini's reign in Italy? Witnessed the Allied forces roll north towards Berlin? There was more to it than that; she also remembered the bandits living in the hills of Sicily - the infamous 'mafia'.

The fascists tried to eradicate the criminal mob (driving many to the United States) and as a result, the mafia were some of the fiercest enemies of the fascists - taking brutal revenge on them whenever they could.

Her life was like a Broadway play - a 20th century 'Les Miserables.'

And speaking of Broadway, one of the sweetest memories she shared was moving to New York City to the first time, and seeing the Radio City Christmas Spectacular.

That must have been fifty years ago, but they still run the same show today. Radio City Christmas Spectacular tickets go on sale each and every winter and the image of the Radio City Santa and his dancing Rockettes has become something of a New York institution.

I guess it's because America is a nation of immigrants that so many 'American' institutions wind up becoming part of the immigrant experience. I wonder if in fifty years I'll be sitting at a similar party, remembering the day I bought Jersey Boys Tickets or Trans-Siberian Orchestra Tickets and made my own Broadway memory.

Of course, my 'immigrant story' is a lot less exciting than my 86-year-old friends. It's also rather inconsequential, considering just how many millions of people have crossed the American border (both legally and illegally) during my time here. I guess I'm just one face amongst a sea of immigrants (but hasn't there always been a 'sea' of immigrants?)

I think the most amazing thing, though, as we share this time of year is that for all those millions of faces, we all share the same story - even with that 86-year-old Italian lady at the party.

Something, Something, Something Darkside

Considering that hit Fox TV series 'Family Guy' owes its entire existence to another animated American family (The Simpsons) it should come as no surprise that imitation is what the team behind it do best; hence this hilarious follow up to last year's animated spoof of Star Wars.

A send-up of the Star Wars sequel 'The Empire Strikes Back,' 'Something, Something, Something Dark Side' sees the 'Family Guy' cast adopt roles from the hit science fiction story - injecting a healthy dose of humor into a surprisingly faithful script adaptation.

At an hour long, writer Kirker Butlet does a good job cramming in the essential action, plus plenty of hilarious asides and fanboy factoids, into the run-time (did you know Lando Carlrissian takes off to save Han Solo wearing Han's own outfit in the final scenes of 'The Empire Strikes Back?')

Like many of the recent episodes of 'Family Guy,' the jokes induce more smirks than guffaws - but the real joy of this series has always been in catching all the neat little pop-culture gags - and they come thick and fast with 'Something, Something, Something Dark Side.'

This episode hasn't yet been screened on Fox, so a good reason to buy rent or buy it to catch all the action before us plebs with cable - but as an added bonus, the DVD version is unrated, so includes all the crass perversity missing on network television.

However, at $18.99 for the hour-long episode, 'Something, Something, Something Dark Side' is ultimately only in the price range of dedicated fans - especially as most of the gags will be coming to your television sets for free shortly enough (estimated to be some time this January.)

Up Till Now by William Shatner (Audiobook)

In his biography 'Up Till Now' William Shatner admits that there's not a lot of work he's ever considered turning down (although he does draw the line at barmitzvahs.) That's possibly why he's been such a pervasive presence on our television screens for the last three decades.

Most of us know Shatner as the red-blooded, swaggering Captain Kirk - a character I first encountered at university, when my ex-girlfriend (one of precisely three beautiful, female Trekkies in the world - they're as rare as unicorns) introduced me to the old Star Trek series on video.

Looking back, though, I'm sure I'm not alone in realising that Shatner's been part of my life for a lot longer than that - in other defining roles, like tough, uncompromising cop T.J. Hooker, tough, uncompromising attorney Denny Crane and, of course, the tough, uncompromising 'Priceline Negotiator.'

But for all the different incarnations of William Shatner, most of us have never known William Shatner as an individual - just as the characters he plays on our televisions screens (or maybe that should be 'the character,' as they all kind of blend into one.)

That's an oversight I attempted to correct by carpooling with the big guy for the last week; listening to the audio book of his autobiography 'Up Till Now' on my XMp3.

I've always loved a good biography, but there's something even more special about one that's narrated by the author himself. Hearing William Shatner's distinctive voice over my radio was like having him sitting across from me in the passenger seat of my old Lincoln; regaling me with his fascinating stories and anecdotes (but never chipping in for gas, the cheapskate.)

Fascinating stories and anecdotes are pretty much all 'Up Till Now' ends up being comprised of; not so much a biography (which one would imagine tells a life story in roughly chronological order) but more a collection of disjointed, rambling, but wildly entertaining stories held together by a common thread.

Shatner's book does follow a rough time order, starting out with his childhood in the Jewish quarter of Montreal and moving onto his first acting gigs with the Stratford Shakespeare Company. However, in between this narrative, it flits carelessly between anecdotes as and when the author feels it's appropriate - so we'll be discussing civil rights in Mississippi one moment and the 'dot com' boom the next.

But that doesn't really hurt the book; in fact, in many ways it makes it more enjoyable. As I mentioned earlier, Shatner's audio book was almost like having him ride along on my drive to work. The way he tells his story is similarly personal - like listening to the ramblings of an entertaining family member you've never had a chance to talk to before.

In that respect, 'Up Till Now' paints a warm, informal and affectionate portrait of Shatner's life and is illuminating for a whole slew of reasons.

Firstly, it's fascinating to discover that this great 'action man' of film and television is actually a shameless 'luvvie' of the oldest order. (The stories he tells of sharing a stage with Basil Rathbone and Christopher Plummer involve namedropping at it's most shameless; and despite being mocked for his three decades of 'wooden' acting, it's clear Shatner is ultimately a dedicated thespian to his core.)

Secondly, 'Up Till Now' is genuinely funny - with most of the humor being supplied at Shatner's expense. He creates wonderfully elaborate self-deprecating anecdotes, in which he repeatedly blusters his way through shaggy dog stories, building his biographical counterpart up until he sounds as arrogant and insufferable as all those other actors have accused him of being - yet then Shatner will deliver the punchline to each story, showing him up as a buffoon and laughing uproariously as he falls victim to his own hubris.

Ultimately, 'Up Till Now' is everything a good biography should be - an illuminating portrait of William Shatner that balances amusing anecdotes with real emotional gravitas. Considering that 'Bill' is possibly the most over-exposed man on television, it's both surprising and rewarding how much more of this man's life his biography reveals.

Merry Christmas!

Do Americans finally 'get' Doctor Who?

I'll admit it - my beloved Doctor Who is something of an acquired taste over here in America. The curiously British sci-fi show, which has been running on and off for 40-years (with 'off' lasting for over a decade in one instance) has never quite 'made it' on these shores.

But that could be changing.

Last weekend saw the latest of the 2009 Doctor Who 'specials' broadcast on BBC America - a channel only available on Direct TV or other similar cable or satellite service. The episode elevated BBC America's ratings to the highest ever, with over 1.1 million viewers tuning in to see 'The Waters of Mars.'

That put BBC America in 13th place overall - which isn't bad, considering that there are literally hundreds of channels available as part of a DirectTV or similar package.

Sadly, Mummy Militant and I don't have Directv - which means we'll be missing the last two Doctor Who adventures being broadcast on concurrent weekends. Our cable package doesn't include BBC America.

'The End of Time' parts I and II wrap up David Tennant's run as the titular 'Doctor' - which is heartbreaking to many fans, as he owned the role after Christopher Eccleston hung up his leather jacket.

The final two End of Time specials premiere December 26th at 9 pm Eastern and January 2nd at 8:30 p.m. Eastern on BBC America.

Snow Family!

Happy holidays!

Holy Crap! SNOW!

Those witchdoctors at the Meteorology Office were right! Last night we got hit with the mother of all snowstorms - up to 24" in some parts of New Jersey!


And yes, a lot of it landed on our house. A LOT! It was like an explosion at a Slush Puppy factory. (I imagine.)

Mummy Militant, Mini Militant and I donned our gay apparel to deal with the blanket of white stuff.




But Mini Militant's first experience of snow was not a happy one. "DO NOT WANT!" He was quickly returned inside for a hot bowl of spaghetti.

I have no idea why I included this picture of The Locomotive, except to possibly explain to my friends back in England that when they complain about ice on their windscreen, they should count themselves lucky!!

Happy holidays!

Rich Dad's Guide to Becoming Rich... Without Cutting Up Your Credit Cards by Robert T. Kiyosaki

If there's one requirement for books within the 'Self Help' section, it's that they should at least try to 'help' their readers. Robert T. Kiyosaki's book Rich Dad's Guide to Becoming Rich... Without Cutting Up your Credit Cards spectacularly fails at this, however.

Instead of dedicating the 88 pages to practical advice and tips, 'Rich Dad' winds up as something between an autobiography and a political manifesto - a convoluted mess.

Part of the book sees Kiyosaki attempt to share his financial wisdom though clumsily worded dialogue between himself and the titular 'Rich Dad' - the financially successful father of his childhood friend.

These are written like bad fiction - with stilted, repetitive conversations painfully transcribed, with 'I asked' and 'he told me' and 'I said, shaking my head' awkwardly interrupting the flow of dialogue, presumably to fatten up the paragraphs.

The rest of the book is more of a political rant - with Kiyosaki attacking the concept of taxation, social security, medicare and the dire state of education in America. For good measure, he throws in reams of paragraphs cross-selling his 'educational' boardgame (a snip at just $119) and justifying why it's so expensive, difficult to learn and awkward to play.

But the real crime of 'Rich Dad' is that what advice is does offer is simply bad advice. The whole concept 'Without Cutting Up Your Credit Cards' is painful to read after witnessing the financial meltdown of last year. Kiyosaki actually attacks the concept of 'living within your means' and builds his precarious financial formula off the bad of balancing 'bad debt' with 'good debt.'

While there is merit to his theory of investing in income-generating assets, the few practical suggestions he has - like creating 'good debt' by investing in real estate - serve as an awkward reminder of the mentality that drove America into the recent depression.

Rich Dad's Guide to Becoming Rich... Without Cutting Up your Credit Cards retails for $10.99

Live Rich, Die Broke by Stephen M. Pollan

A decade after their original publication dates, these two self-help books by 'America's most trusted financial adviser' aren't exactly still 'hot' - yet despite the details which date them, Stephen M. Pollan's financial advice ultimately remains pertinent today.

I made a mistake when I tackled Stephen M. Pollan's duo of financial advice books - I read the sequel, 'Live Rich,' before the original, 'Die Broke.' This is because I'd (somewhat understandably) imagined 'living' occurred before 'dying.'

As it turned out, it didn't really matter. Although ostensibly offering advice on two different facets of your financial affairs, the advice contained within 'Live Rich' is pretty-much paralleled word for word in 'Die Broke'.

'Die Broke' is a straightforward guide to getting the best out of life while you're still alive. Summed up, it simply advises readers to spend their kid's inheritance - so a family can enjoy that money together, instead of only after their parent's death.

The best line of the book (easily worth the purchase price) is this mantra: "The last cheque you write should be to the funeral director - and it should bounce."

'Live Rich,' the sequel, has more practical financial advice. Much of it is rehashed from 'Die Broke' - such as cutting up your credit cards, paying cash where you can and forgetting about the concept of 'retirement.' It adds a new dimension, though, with Pollan's advice to 'quit today.'

That shouldn't be taken literally - he doesn't advise readers to hand in their two weeks notice - but he does suggest that they abandon the obedient 'worker bee' mentality and treat their job like a temporary assignment, rather than a career.

It's a 21st century alternative to a 19th century work mentality and neatly mirrors the way corporate America has similarly abandoned the concept of employee loyalty.

The bulk of both books is taken up with a glossary of advice, which is where the age of the books is most noticeable. Pollan advices his clients to get a pager, recommends the fastest modem available (a whopping 56.6k) and ponders if cell-phones will be a technology that catches on.

But despite some aspects of these books being obviously dated, the advice contained within them is sterling stuff. I'm not going to suggest reading them will 'change your life' but it'll certainly change your preconceptions.

My only advice? It's really not necessary to read both - 'Live Rich' is more of an updated version of 'Die Broke' than a follow-up - so you'll get the gist of Pollan's pragmatic advice from reading that edition alone.

Christmas in America

It's not quite Christmas yet - but it is the time when many families undergo a uniquely American tradition and take their Christmas Pictures.

Mini Militant's Christmas photo from last year!

In the United States, people tend not to buy generic Christmas cards with pictures of Santa and snowflakes on. Instead, it's much more popular to take personal photos of the family to send in the form of a card. It allows friends and family to see how the kids are growing up - and offers an excuse to express yourself:

A Young Republican Christmas

Being a somewhat snobby Brit, I was originally pretty skeptical of the holiday photo phenomenon - but couldn't help but get swept up into it when Mini Militant was born. After all, it's only once a year and as cheesy as it might seem, it's a lot of festive fun.

Some Christmas pics are just plain creepy.

Christmas Videos are also becoming more popular on video sharing websites - but sometimes I think all this Christmas Sharing is not without cost. Below, I present some holiday pictures that perhaps should never have been.

Screaming babies!

I'm an Atheist, but even I take offense to this!

Can't. Find. The. Words.

Snow? Check. Beer? Check. Unconscious baby? Check. BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!

Santa is creepy.

More Ginger Discrimination from Britain

"Santa loves all kids - even GINGER ones!"

So boasts a new Christmas Card from British supermarket chain Tescos - replete with a picture of a grumpy Santa tolerating a freckle-faced redhead sitting on his lap. The Daily Mirror have the story here.

Redheaded mum Davina, and her three ginger tots.

Tesco has been blasted for selling a Christmas card which pokes fun at ginger kids. The card has left the mother of three red-headed children fuming after she spotted it while shopping.

"I've shown it to a lot of friends and they're disgusted by it. I just don't find it funny at all."

"I have never seen anything in my life promoting making fun out of people with ginger hair. Maybe I am just being naive but they shouldn't be able to make fun of ginger children like that."

The redhead mother, Davina Phillips, might never have seen anything making fun of ginger kids before, but I certainly have. Remember this ad, with a happy ginger family and the slogan 'There are some things in life you can't choose?'


I find it deeply disturbing that Britain's sinking deeper and deeper into a sort of 'politically correct' fascism, in which you can't say anything remotely negative about somebody's race, sexuality, disability or religion - yet it remains 'open season' on redheads.

The inimitable Mycroft emailed me today with a quote from urbane American Reginald D. Hunter, who announced on Have I Got News For You that the Brits couldn't even get racism right:

"You try, of course - but you just don't get it right... Take Ginger people. They aren't even a race and you give the guys hell..."

He's absolutely right, of course. Prejudice against redheads seems to remain a uniquely British - and uniquely stupid - phenomenon.

Badass Baby

So in keeping with a baby who carries himself with such distinguished style and grace, has a collection of hip and stylish dinky toys.

Here they are:

From left to right, a lime-green '68 Citroen DS, a '64 Mini Cooper S, a '78 Pontiac Firebird, a '70 Chevy Nova, a Land Rover Defender 110 and a Triumph TR6.

As I said earlier, the kid's got style...

Learning to say NO.

Last week, I was scurrying through Times Square to the office when I got accosted by a couple of guys selling CDs.

"Help me get my recording career off the ground, Man!"

Normally, I don't get bothered in New York, since I dress in a conservative business-suit and definitely don't look like a tourist. That day, though, my 'mojo' wasn't working and I wound up chatting to this clown for about five minutes and then, partly out of sympathy and guilt, but mostly because I find it very difficult to say 'no', I gave him $5 and took one of his CDs.

I was annoyed about it for the rest of the day, though. I'd just finished reading Buffett: The Making of an American Capitalist and figured that one of his most admirable traits was his ability (diplomatically, but firmly) to say no. I'd be five dollars richer if I'd developed that knack (the price of a pint of beer, which would have been lovely at the end of the day.)

Why couldn't I say 'no?' From this day forward, I vowed to myself, I'd learn to say 'no.' I'm so desperate to be nice, and polite and please people that I tend to do the right thing by everybody but myself. No longer, I said. 'No' is my new watchword.

And as for the guy who 'sold' me his crappy CD? "He'll get his," I thought. "Karma has a funny way of catching up with people."

Well, it did, this afternoon.

The crappy CD in question. Worth $5? Not likely, mate...

The guy who sold me the CD was gunned down by a plainclothes police officer on the corner of Broadway and 46th (the spot where he'd sold me the CD.) After scamming people for weeks, cops had identified him - but when an officer attempted to arrest the man, he'd pulled out a Mac-10 (a terrifying, fully-automatic handgun) out of the waistband of his trousers.

The cop was forced to shoot him dead. Four times. Because being shot to death once isn't bad enough. Read the story here.

Two things occurred to me. Firstly, that when I'd been hustled out of $5, I'd had no idea that the man had a 9mm automatic shoved down his trousers. It's a chilling reminder to be a LOT more careful in New York City these days.

Secondly, when karma does finally catch up with somebody in New York City, it catches up hard.

Terminator: Salvation

The theme of ‘Terminator: Salvation’ is, unsurprisingly, ‘salvation.’ Not just in terms of the film’s plot – which sees a convicted murderer thrown into the battle to save humanity – but in terms of the ‘Terminator’ franchise itself.

This final chapter in the ‘Terminator’ series is a heroic attempt by director McG to undo the mistakes of the past – and seek ‘salvation’ for a series that arguably should have been retired after 1991’s ‘Terminator 2: Judgment Day.’

In the spirit of all great sequels, ‘Terminator: Salvation’ ditches the tried, tested (and now trite) formula of the previous movies and creates a brave, new narrative.

Set in a post-Apocalyptic future - 15 years after a self-aware computer attempted to eradicate mankind in a nuclear fire – ‘Salvation’ sees John Connor attempting to rally the survivors into a single, unified ‘resistance’ movement.

British actor Christian Bale – the action star du jour – plays Connor with brooding intensity – but this film really isn’t about him. Instead, it follows convicted murderer Marcus Wright, who remembers being on death row on the eve of Judgment Day, but has somehow woken up fifteen years later with no memory of how he survived or where he is.

Of course, nothing’s quite as it seems – and although the ‘twist’ of Terminator: Salvation is pretty easy to guess, the film has a strong plot paired with a surprisingly deft script. Marcus’ journey is also a thrill-packed one, with explosive stunts and special effects that suggest the film’s $200 million budget (the most expensive movie production of all time) was well-spent.

But ultimately, it’s unsatisfying.

Just like the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes, Terminator: Salvation is the film that reveals how ‘naked’ the concept of the Terminator franchise really is. When it was just discussed as an abstract plot-point, the story of robots ‘taking over’ and trying to eliminate mankind was kind of cool. When you actually see it portrayed on screen, you realize the idea’s just kind of dumb.

Lumbering robots, metal endoskeletons and hovering ‘hunter/killers’ look great on screen, but just don’t carry the same threatening gravitas they did when we only caught glimpses of them in flashbacks or dreams. The clichés of all the earlier movies – like how robots can run at 30 miles an hour, yet lumber painstakingly towards their prey when the ‘good guys’ are injured or incapacitated – seem even more unforgivable given the seriousness in which all the actors take their roles.

Even the ending is just plain wacky – with Marcus Wright’s ‘salvation’ being achieved through a sacrifice that anybody who’s watched an episode of ‘House’ would know is medically ‘unlikely.’

It’s not a bad film, by any means. In fact, given the legacy, director McG’s done as good a job as perhaps anybody could be expected to. There are even some truly great moments in it, like seeing Arnold Schwarzenegger reprise his role as the ‘T-800’ for a few brief seconds.

But ultimately, Terminator: Salvation is nothing more than popcorn fodder and its major failing is in not realizing that. All of the chapters in the Terminator saga have had a tendency to take themselves a little too seriously (especially the short-lived TV series) but this is by far the worst example.

Winter

Snow officially hit New York today.

For a European, it's difficult to explain New York winters. It means REAL snow - what you'd get in a season in Britain, you get in an hour in New England. Temperatures drop faster than you can believe. For instance, it was a balmy 67 degrees on Friday - today it's in the mid-thirties.

Whatever you want to think - winter's here.

Buffett: The Making of an American Capitalist

If you wanted to find an individual who best represented the 'American Dream', you'd be hard pressed to pick a better candidate than Warren Buffett.

His story goes from delivering papers in his native Omaha, to sitting on an empire as the richest man in America - proof that anybody can make it in this great country of ours.

In Buffett: The Making of an American Capitalist, biographer Roger Lowenstein does more than just follow Warren's astonishing financial accomplishments.

He's dissects Buffet's motivations and mentality as well - illustrating not just what he did to build the quintessential American empire, but also why.

It highlights the astonishing duality of Buffett's career:

On one hand, it's clear that Warren Buffett always was a financial prodigy - memorising stock prices before the age of ten, and building a thousand-dollar newspaper delivery empire before he was in his teens.

An elephantine memory, prodigious capacity for mental arithmetic and an innate sense of 'self' helped Buffett seize opportunity after opportunity as he grew up. For over forty years, he's been an investor who's seemingly done no wrong. He's even beaten his own pessimistic predictions (in annual letters to investors, he constantly warned that his uncanny successes could never be sustained year after year - and yet they always were.)

But what's perhaps more astonishing is the fact that there was never any 'secret' to Buffett's success. No magical formula, or insider deals. He worked on a simple premise (expanded from that of his financial mentor, Ben Graham) that said some stocks were sold at below their true value - and if you bought them the market would always elevate them to their true value at some point in the future.

It's such a ridiculously simple premise - and Roger Lowenstein does such a brilliant job explaining it - that it seems almost impossible that nobody else twigged on this almost 'guaranteed' way to make money.

That's where Buffet: The Making of an American Capitalist becomes even more fascinating.

Lowenstein explains how there's always been a sort of pandemic madness running through Wall Street - and each period has seen the meteoric rise (and then dismal plummet) of countless false financial 'prophets.' Theories like 'diversification' and the 'Efficient Market Theory' made a few people rich, a lot of people poor and then sunk under the waves when a new 'hot' system came along to start the ride all over again.

Only Warren Buffett stuck to his own proven 'theory' - and earned billions as a result. Not because he's a financial genius (although he is) but simply because he dealt with facts, figures and measurable results - not whatever was the wild financial theory du jour.

And in that respect, the final benefit of Lowenstein's brilliantly written biography is that it serves as a 'how to' for investment virgins such as myself. Whether you're playing with stocks on eTrade, or starting a business for yourself, there are various mantras of Warren Buffett that will never fail to steer you in the right direction.

Buffett: The Making of an American Capitalist ultimately satisfies on a whole slew of different levels. As a biography, it's warm, compelling and easy to read. As a story about the modern history of investment - through the eyes of the man who arguably knows it best - it's incredibly insightful. Finally (although I doubt Roger Lowenstein ever intended it to be) Buffett serves as a 'self help' guide to using 'Buffetisms' to improve your own financial future.

It's one of the most compelling and entertaining biographies I've ever read - and offered a singular insight into the life of one of America's most fascinating men.

Buffett: The Making of an American Capitalist is available for $19.00 from all good booksellers.

Safety First!

Despite America being a pretty litigious place, it's still 'cowboy country' compared to overly-regulated, Nanny-state Britain. You can own guns, you can have bull-bars on your truck and even Mini Militant's ride-on quad doesn't come with an extra safety button like the (almost) identical models in the UK.

But while this freedom is refreshing, it's not without cost. One of the reasons that Britain has become a 'nanny state' is because some people need 'nannying.' We have exactly the same problem in America - some people are just idiots - but we prefer to leave them be. There's a philosophy of 'personal responsibility' that's uniquely American - plus the unspoken opinion that if somebody kills themselves doing something 'dumbass stupid' than maybe they're doing the gene pool a favor.

Take this gentleman, for instance. While you have to applaud him for finding a way to avoid the 'home delivery' charges at Home Depot, you do wonder if he needs some safety signs to warn other drivers of his idiocy.



Likewise, repairing a petrol pump with a lit cigarette in your mouth is an admirable bit of multi-tasking, but some safety glasses might be in order to protect your eyebrows from being scorched off when the pump (and the gasoline reservoir below) explodes in your face.

Finally, this gentleman's doing sterling work proving that you don't need wishy-washing, girly safety equipment like 'ropes' to transport an oversized bed in the back of your pick-up. All you need is a friend willing to weigh them down. I don't see any problem at all with this scenario - although he might want to invest in a pair of safety boots before they hit highway speed.

The problem with people, as these pictures demonstrate, is that they're flippin' idiots. Countries like Britain are forced to adopt 'nanny' regulations to protect these evolutionary throwbacks from themselves. People are pushing for the same sort of regulations to be put in place in America - so far we've resisted (as the rising cost of health insurance is evidence of.)