I came across this article on the BBC and just can’t contain my urge to comment upon it.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-24563453

Just in case you don’t follow the link, although I actively encourage you to – here’s a synopsis of the story. The Iranian authorities hung a 37 year old convicted drug smuggler for 12 minutes and, having had a doctor declare him dead, sent his body to the morgue. In the morgue it became apparent that the chap had survived. An incredible outcome, I am sure you’ll agree.

It gets more unbelievable - the man is being nursed back to health in order to be hung again at a later date! I am flabbergasted and struggle to come to terms with the cruelty that is so clearly evident.

If the authorities want this man dead then how can it be ethically appropriate to nurse him back to health first? Frankly I think it’s inhumane – a lethal injection in the morgue would have been kinder.

Amnesty International is understandably urging the Iranian authorities to give the man a stay of execution.

My observations:

Hanging for 12 minutes is an extreme sentence for this man and I think he has paid his debt to society.  He survived; instead of the ‘stay’ should he not go free?

For a society that is ultra-religious, does no one believe that a higher being may have been looking on this chap with benevolence? His survival is certainly miraculous. Why is no one arguing that ‘it wasn’t his time to go’ and ‘there must be a higher purpose for him to serve’?  

The doctor in this story might be better suited to working in a shop.  

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I watched the first episode of Sex Box on Monday night; I felt compelled to because it was inevitable that a blog post would come from the viewing spectacle. And only in that regard wasn’t I disappointed! 

In case you don’t know, the format is that couples have sex in a camera free, soundproofed box in a TV studio and then come out ready and willing to talk to the panel of sex experts about their experiences. Ostensibly the programme is part of Channel 4’s campaign against pornography, and an effort to portray sex in a more honest/realistic way.

If you haven’t watched it, don’t rush to catch up because the programme is truly dreadful. If you think for a minute, just what kinds of people are likely to agree to be a part of it? Surely anyone prepared to be on the programme has to be some kind of weird attention seeker, you know the “I’d do anything to be on television type”.

The programme featured three main couples, one young, one gay, one older – but in every instance these couples hadn’t been together for very long.  All of these couples were in the honeymoon periods of their relationships; I’ll be intrigued to see if the programme can attract any couples that have been married for years, have got young children or have other marital stresses to deal with.

I asked Mrs Baldwin if she’d be prepared to take part – her response was "you have to be f**cking joking" – the perfect use of a sexual expletive!

I didn't understand how the women taking part could get their heads into the performance zone. I can get how a bloke could find the motivation to perform, but for a woman that needs to have the emotional boxes ticked as well, surely it’s a big ask. Where the hell is the romance in having a quick bonk in a studio and then being expected to talk about what you did with Mariella Frostrup? I’d have thought that would be a complete mood-killer. No doubt the main reason why the programme only featured new couples – at least the ‘horny’ balance (for want of a better term) is more likely to be level between the partners.

Of course every couple came out of the box and said they’d had a good time – my question is one word - really?

I’ll be intrigued to see if anyone ever comes out and says, “I couldn’t perform” or “it was just perfunctory”, or “that felt cheap and nasty”, or “it lasted less than five minutes”. That would contribute to the real sex debate!

An hour of viewing on Monday night was largely wasted, in fact only three comments added anything useful – these were:

• Extra martial, sexual affairs are most common for people in their forties (no doubt caused by stagnating sex lives at home)
• Research has shown that women are much more likely than blokes to be turned on by the concept of sex with a stranger - and are arguably as likely as a male to start an affair as a result    
• For long term couples, sex gets boring and the only way to improve it is to talk to each other (which isn’t necessarily as easy as it sounds, given the traditional British reserve). The advice - try just one new thing every time you make love, position, location, timing etcetera!

Interestingly, at least for me, Mrs Baldwin and I are both in our forties and having been married for almost twelve years, we are in an ‘at risk group’.

And, to borrow an expression from Jeremy Clarkson:

On that bombshell!

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I have been physically and emotionally challenged over the last week and this has made it a little hard to type up a blog post. Writer’s block was not the issue (in fact there has been an abundance of topics to comment upon) but instead a bio-mechanical matter has been the constraint upon my creativity.

On Sunday 6th October I had an accident in my back garden. Unfortunately the accident involved a Black & Decker electric chainsaw and four of my fingers. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the four fingers affected were/are on my right (and in this case ‘write’) hand!

The ‘are’ you may already be appreciating is the most important word in the previous sentence. I still have all my fingers attached to my person and that’s not because they have been sewn back on either!

In my own defence, I recently took down a tree that was two-storeys high. I did it on my own and without any problems at all – so I wasn’t a chainsaw virgin.

On this occasion, I was up a eucalyptus tree for the purpose of cutting it back (and had already lopped a number of branches) when the ‘incident’ occurred. Having cut through a thick’ish’ branch, I was in the unfortunate position of having it springing back into me instead of dropping to the ground (initially it dropped but then as its downward momentum was halted by next door’s garage roof, the motion transferred into a forward direction – eucalyptus I have proved is fairly springy/bouncy (although that’s obviously not a technical term). That forward motion meant the branch came at me.

At the time, I was at the top of a ladder and some eight feet off the ground!

As I was knocked backwards, the chainsaw came up, this wasn't too worrying because by that point my hands were off the power switches and the blade’s rotation was slowing down. I still had the chainsaw in my left hand but unfortunately as I started wobbling on the ladder, I brought my right hand up to steady myself – and in doing so caught my fingers on the blade.

I’ll be honest, I uttered a short sentence that was peppered with expletives and then had to assess the situation. Already my fingers were bleeding profusely and it was crystal clear that plasters were not going to (pun intended) cut it as a solution.

I didn’t panic, or scream, or cry; instead I calmly climbed down the ladder, put the chainsaw on the ground and then, perhaps less calmly, rushed into the house and shouted for Mrs B. to “take me to hospital IMMEDIATELY” – that got everyone’s adrenaline going!

Whilst the family was flapping and getting ready for a swift exit, I rinsed my hand in the kitchen sink, watched the blood pouring out/away and surveyed the mangled mess I’d made of the base of my right ring finger. Even then I didn’t panic, just checked that my fingers were still functioning (and they appeared to be okay). I subsequently wrapped my hand in three of Mrs Baldwin’s tea towels and readied myself for the 35 minute journey to Northampton General.

At the hospital, the A&E assessor took a quick look at me and then directed me to “minor injuries”. There I took a seat with a group of other unfortunates and awaited my consultation. X rays followed and then the repair work could get underway. Following anaesthetic injections into my most damaged finger, and a tetanus jab in my arm; three stitches were placed into my right ring finger - the rest of them were taped. When the nurse said, “I am not sure how to best stitch this up”, I did think ‘shit’! She then made up her mind how to proceed and said I don’t think I can avoid you having a scar. Phew is that all I thought.  

Once mended, I was signed off work for a week, which was handy (pun intended) bearing in mind that I couldn’t have done up my shirt buttons, or tied my tie if my life depended upon it – couldn’t drive safely on indeed type for that matter either.  

Still I have to take some consolation from the fact that I was bloody lucky – the injuries could have been so much worse! I still have all my fingers, didn't break any bones or sever any tendons! That means, my writing hand still works properly (or at least it will when the dressings come off and the stitching is removed).

After my visit to the doctors yesterday to have my dressings changed, the prognosis on the fingers is good and healing is coming along nicely. God knows when I’ll be able to put my engagement ring on again!

Some observations:

• The CEO of the company I work for called me a 'buffoon' and on this occasion I think that the label is appropriate
• Since mauling myself, I have spoken to various people that have commented on my bandaged hand – it seems everyone has a story to tell about someone they know, often ones that are far worse than mine. Chainsaws are bloody dangerous - be very careful with them is the moral of the story.
• Also, before you go about a job involving a chainsaw, think about paying someone else to do it or at least checking if one of your friends or family is more capable – it turns out that my father-in-law used to do lumberjacking work for a living (and still has all his equipment – and fingers too for that matter). I didn’t even know; although I’ll now be asking him to finish off a job that I have lost some appetite for!
• I am right handed and doing stuff with my left hand only has proved to be frustrating and at times amusing. Things you take for granted like using a knife and fork to cut up your food, or doing up your shoe laces, are suddenly impossible. Wiping my arse with my left hand was challenging and odd; trying to use the computer mouse has been comical; typing left handed – slow and error strewn; writing by hand – completely beyond my capabilities. This experience has given me some insights into being disabled and they are not comforting. Reflecting in this way scares me to think what could have happened.
• I'll be missing karate for a few weeks
  
• I must clean my blood off the chainsaw before I give it back to my dad!  

Finally, I want to end by stating that the service from the hospital was excellent. The NHS gets moaned about all the time in the media – my experience on Sunday was that it’s great knowing it’s there for you in your hour of need!

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This morning, whilst driving down the M1 towards Hemel Hempstead, I was so annoyed by the variable speed limits on the stretch from Milton Keynes South to Luton that I thought I’d vent my frustration with a blog post.

In the run up towards 9am this morning, having been in stop/start traffic from junction 16 all the way to 14, the traffic finally started flowing and I could get up to speed. Just in case you don’t know, the variable speed limits on the M1 start just before junction 13 - at about 9:05 I arrived at the first activated gantry sign.

From some distance I could tell that the variable limit was posted but until I was a little closer I couldn’t tell what it was. In preparation I moved out of the fast lane into the middle lane and started to slow the car.

Despite the traffic being light, the gantry at junction 13 had 40mph posted. That meant a deceleration of 20-30 miles per hour for every vehicle on the motorway - and over just a few hundred yards. I pulled into the slow lane and applied the brakes and watched the rear view mirror as an articulated truck barrelled down on me and then pulled out into the middle lane and overtook me.

What the hell do you do in these instances, the safe thing would be to maintain speed but that could get you a fine and penalty points (thanks to the gantry mounted speed cameras). Instead you slow down and in doing so create a concertina that massively increases the chance of an accident (and that’s what the variable speed limits are supposed to avoid).  Bloody stupid!

What really pissed me off was that having got on the anchors, the gantry 100 yards further on was posting a change in variable limit to 60. That meant most around me went straight from ‘brakes on’ to the accelerator back down! How can that be safe?

After this debacle, the variable limits were posted at 60 all the way the Luton (jnct. 10). The traffic was light enough that the variable limits should have been switched off altogether.  The cars around me were accelerating to the next gantry sign, slowing down past it and then accelerating to the next one etc. Did this make the road safer – of course not!

I can only assume that the limit signs are on some kind of timer because if some human was judging when to change them or switch them off, they need sacking or some further training!

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Stanislav Petrov is a chap that until last week I had never heard of. It turns out that we all have much to be grateful to this Russian for.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-24280831

This BBC News website article is scary stuff, not so much for what actually happened (which is worrying enough) but for what could have happened (something that is frankly terrifying). If you haven’t read this piece, please do so before you carry on reading!

When is the last time you thanked the Lord for an IT specialist? Petrov deserves to be the patron saint of techies for applying some common sense whilst under extreme pressure - and thereby avoiding mutually assured destruction (MAD).

Just think; if a professional soldier had been the duty officer on that fateful day in 1983, then nuclear Armageddon could have occurred thanks to nothing more than a system glitch.

You’d think this kind of fantasy was limited to Hollywood film scripts (think ‘War Games’) but apparently not - this was genuine! It does make me wonder if this false alarm story was an isolated incident or if more of this kind of shocking tale will become declassified over time.    

If you ever think about global nuclear weapons proliferation, or you ponder the UK Government’s stance on Trident replacement, remember this story because the more nukes that exist in the world, the greater the potential for a ludicrous cock-up.

If you watch the video associated with the BBC article, Petrov is an old man, wearing cheap clothes and smoking cheap cigarettes – doesn’t seem like a fitting situation for someone that most probably saved the world!

Bizarrely for Petrov, by far the most important thing he ever did was something he didn’t actually do! That’ll make for an interesting epitaph when the time is right!

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