Fuddland

Entries concerning news from around the world, not directly affecting myself.

We interrupt the tales from Jiuhua Shan to bring you this annoying piece of news from Flickr:

Users in China can’t see images

Since around 12:30pm (Beijing time) on June 7th, users in China have been unable to view images on flickr.com.

Our technical staff have looked into this and determined that it’s not a technical issue from our end. Evidence suggests that our image servers are being blocked for many users in China.

Fingers crossed it’s just a temporary measure. Coincidentally—or perhaps not—Blogger-hosted weblogs have also just become unavailable again.

Okay, I know they don’t really want people to access certain websites, but really: causing an undersea-earthquake to sever fibre-optic cables that deliver non-China-based sites is a bit much.

Internet access has been mind-crushingly slow—think pre-28.8bps-modem days, if you can imagine such speeds. It’d have been quicker for someone abroad to print out the pages and then hand-deliver them by bicycle. Thankfully, because so many big businesses were affected, repairs have been given the utmost urgency, and things are getting back to normal after initial worries that repairs “could take months”.

Interestingly, I’ve searched a few news sources from the UK and haven’t found much fuss being made about it from abroad. Did it make the front pages anywhere?

The sad news of Linda Smith’s passing has reached me. If you can catch it before Friday, have a listen to the News Quiz tribute for a reminder of her fantastic comedy insights.

The first night at Crisis was fantastic: lovely volunteer people, and genuinely grateful [for the most part] guests. I was really nervous to begin with, and for extra fun my first task [with my fun new pal Sarah—you’re always with at least one other volunteer on any given duty] was to shut down the TV area nearest the sleeping tents, pulling the plug on the telly and asking people if they wouldn’t mind awfully moving to the other side of the arena. As you might expect, and they had my sympathies entirely, this was met with a few protests, but eventually everyone complied.

Other duties throughout the night: being a “runner” for the toilet/shower areas, fetching supplies from the store cupboard [nice and relaxed: they hardly needed anything, so I spent most of the time folding clean towels into bags with the lovely Kelly]; guarding the volunteers’ entrance/exit [a bit cold but kept warm with foot-stamping and chatting to a very sweet girl called Gemma who was very pleased to have finally turned eighteen and been allowed to volunteer]; and finally, a general clean-up of the sleeping area: folding blankets, stacking beds etc.

Everyone was really friendly and, as we were told at the debriefing, the night passed without any major incidents—a few of the guests’ tempers got a bit frayed but I’m hoping that was just first-night jitters. I didn’t feel as tired as I thought I might do—plenty of tea at every given opportunity certainly helped that. In fact, the only low point was when I bit into a small pie thinking it was going to be a mince pie, only to discover it was apple. Very disappointing!

If I was ever in any doubt that the efforts of Crisis are futile, those were surely blown away by the guest who strolled up to me and two other volunteers, took our hands in turn and thanked us all for giving up our Christmases for him. Warm fuzzy feelings aplenty!

[Aside: plural of Christmas, anyone? Christmases? Christmasses? Christmi?]

I’ve had a bit of a sleep today, and am feeling okay for another night, but I’ve a feeling this one may be a bit longer than the first. And there’s the added of fun of no public transport tomorrow morning!

Merry Christmas everybody.

It’s been quite a week for Really Quite Interesting Discoveries About Animals. In case you’ve missed them:

• Bees cook invading wasps to death by surrounding them in a heat-generating ball.

  To see what margin of safety the bees have, Tan and his research colleagues presented tethered wasps to six colonies each of native Asian bees and European bees. At each nest, worker bees engulfed the wasp immediately. Within 5 minutes, the center of a typical bee ball had reached 45°C.

  [via Gordon]

• Images of a live adult giant squid have been recorded for the first time at its natural hunting depth.

• Gorillas use sticks to test the depth of the water in a pool before crossing it.

  In the first case, we had a female crossing a pool; and this female has crossed this pool by using a detached stick and testing the water depth, and trying to use it as a walking stick.

  The second case saw another female gorilla pick up the trunk of a dead shrub and use it to lean on while dredging for food in a swamp. She then placed the trunk down on the swampy ground and used it as a bridge.

Kind of puts that whole us-going-to-the-moon thing into perspective, eh fellow humans?

An out-of-the-ordinary message was forwarded to the members of the maths department today; rather than being the usual notice about some seminar or other, this was from a London-based PR company, with a proposal.

Apparently, this Christmas Amazon want to run a marketing campaign based around a “formula for how to wrap the perfect Christmas present”. Since I would think it’d be much more newsworthy them having knowledge of what the perfect Christmas present is—the one gift that no-one has but everybody wants—I’m sure they don’t mean what they’ve said, but in fact want a formula for the best way of wrapping a Christmas present [most efficient use of paper, or something]. So they want to pay a mathematician, or mathematicians, to come up with a plausible equation—that is, something that actually works.

In the message the company admit that they’re not after serious research, but just want to use it as a marketing device, and already a couple of members of the department have voiced their opinions on what a waste of time this type of thing generally is. Every time the media report on things like the equation for happiness or solving the formula to find the most stressful Christmas shopping day [last year’s Amazon-commissioned project], there’s a collective shrug of indifference from the vast majority of people, as yet another attempt to demonstrate how amazing maths can be at solving real-world problems gets lost because the reports always have to put the equation front and centre—the obscure; complex-looking; impenetrable equation—rather than make a decent attempt to explain the concept without resorting to symbols.

Maths seems to be the exception that proves the rule of the wider problem of how the media generally fails to report scientific stories in any kind of sensible way; they focus on what they think will grab the reader’s attention, but refuse to go any deeper.

Why? Because papers think you won’t understand the “science bit”, all stories involving science must be dumbed down, leaving pieces without enough content to stimulate the only people who are actually going to read them - that is, the people who know a bit about science. Compare this with the book review section, in any newspaper. The more obscure references to Russian novelists and French philosophers you can bang in, the better writer everyone thinks you are. Nobody dumbs down the finance pages. Imagine the fuss if I tried to stick the word “biophoton” on a science page without explaining what it meant. I can tell you, it would never get past the subs or the section editor. But use it on a complementary medicine page, incorrectly, and it sails through.

But maths stories are dumbed-down by making things appear more complicated than they truly are, by starting with the equation and working backwards to explain what each part means, turning off the reader from the very beginning. If anyone does end up taking on the challenge, this will be another one of these cases: everyone will look at the equation, writ large in the headline if Amazon’s plan has gone ahead, and think, “How the hell does that tell me how to wrap a pot plant?”

[To which the answer is, obviously, p - α/γ ≤ W(p) ≤ γp2 - α.]

It’s the city in which I was born, I grew up, and where I still regularly visit a large number of my friends and family, but I never knew how proud I was of being a Londoner until I saw the way people dealt with Thursday’s events.

I can’t possibly add to the thousands of reactions that have already been written, and I refuse to waste time speculating on the motives of whoever was responsible, and whether we brought this on ourselves or not.

By coincidence I watched an early 1990s Eddie Izzard video that evening, in which he talked about how Londoners were dealing with bomb threats—what seemed at the time like an almost everyday occurrance.

“What, this station’s closed? Right, let’s see, so I can go up the Piccadilly Line and cut across on the Metropolitan, no problem.”

“Oh, this whole street is closed off is it? Okay … now there’s another Boots the Chemist on Tottenham Court Rd…”

I think it’s fantastic that everything goes to buggery as soon as we get a reasonably heavy snowful, but set off four bombs in an attempt to cripple our transport system and induce panic, and we just get on with it. We might be rubbish, but we’re also stubborn. As noted by Tom Coates, the response of The London News Review says it best.

We’re better than you. Everyone is better than you. Our city works. We rather like it. And we’re going to go about our lives. We’re going to take care of the lives you ruined. And then we’re going to work. And we’re going down the pub.

At the risk of making a fool of myself in front of the slowly-growing band of physicists that occasionally read this weblog [I think we’re up to four now], I’m going to pick a hole in this new theory about time travel. Or rather, in the way that the BBC has reported it.

The main headache [with usual notion of time travel] stems from the idea that if you went back in time you could, theoretically, do something to change the present; and that possibility messes up the whole theory of time travel.

Clearly, the present never is changed by mischievous time-travellers: people don’t suddenly fade into the ether because a rerun of events has prevented their births—that much is obvious.

I’m disputing this “obvious” claim. What’s happened to the idea of parallel universes? Has that been empirically disproved? I thought the theory was, if you do somehow go back in time, say precisely 10 years, and change an event that had occurred in your past, this instantaneously creates an alternative universe in which you now live. So if you go forward in time 10 years from this point, you don’t land back where you left, but instead are 10 years hence in this new universe. [Have these people never seen Back to the Future Part III?] It seems to me that, if parallel universes exist, they eliminate the possibility of people disappearing “into the ether”, because in one universe someone can live to a ripe old age, whereas in another the “same” person might die younger.

[This is all nonsense of course. I’m pretty sure that I believe in neither time travel nor parallel universes. If I get drunk enough I might write about my theory about how waiting for a bus disproves that time travel will never be discovered by humans…]

From Bob Geldof’s outbursts, he is seemingly blind to the notion that some people might want to attend one of the Live8 concerts primarily because they will feature some fantastic bands, and not because they want to show their support for the cause. For all the good intentions behind it, and the emphasis on raising awareness rather than donations, it really is just a show. If he’s going to kick up a stink because those people are willing to pay over the odds for tickets, then he needs to quiz each and every person who comes through the gates on their reasons for being there. If he thinks that everyone is there solely to show a united front to the governments of the world, I think he’s mistaken.

A friend of mine was lucky enough to win two tickets. She’s excited about going, and not because she’s going to be taught all about how she can “make a difference”. The media attention surrounding the concerts and the G8 summit itself has been more than enough to raise awareness; a concert isn’t going to make much more of an impact in that respect. And whilst I’m sure she’d love to see all of the bands playing, she might also appreciate a bit of a personal windfall—a lot of us would, whether we’d admit to it or not. So if I offered my friend £1,000 for her ticket, would any of us judge her for accepting? If you had a ticket, is there no price you’d accept in place of attending the concert yourself? What’s the difference between that scenario and offering up tickets for auction on eBay? It was incredibly naive not to predict that possibility.

If somebody wanted to win tickets solely for the purpose of selling them on, and did so, would Sir Bob not prefer to have an attendee who was willing to pay [at an unarguably extortionate price] to come along and see the show, as they perhaps might be a little more receptive to the issues about which he is attempting to educate the world?

eBay were right with their initial stance to not block the auctioning of these tickets, and it is a failing of the concert organisers that they did not make any attempts to do this futile [e.g. print the name of the winner on the ticket?]. That eBay caved in and decided to block the auctions after all was disappointing. I’m also supportive of their decision to ban any vigilante user who, at Geldof’s urging, attempted to sabotage the auctions with excessive bids, and agree with Damon Albarn that it would have been a good idea to charge the bands themselves to take part. If Geldof is going to lash out at anyone, perhaps it should be his fellow organisers for not thinking things through as much as they could have done, and for not listening more closely to their critics.

Read the rest of “The great Live 8 debate”…

The news of the death of Bob Hunter, co-founder of Greenpeace, has gotten me thinking back to my days as a Greenpeace canvasser in Toronto, in the summer of 1996. If you’ve know me for more than ten minutes then chances are I’ve already told you all about this, so you can go and make a cup of tea or something whilst I tell the others.

The job of the canvasser is, as you might expect, to go door-to-door trying to rally up support for the organisation they represent. Now I know that, at least in the UK, in terms of how welcome a visitor to ones door they are, door-to-door solicitors for pressure groups are generally on a par with bailiffs and pitchfork-wielding lynch mobs, but in Canada I found it to be a different story. On the whole, people were receptive and those that didn’t want to support Greenpeace for whatever reason at least gave me either a friendly, “Not interested,” before I said much, or listened to what I had to say before nicely saying no. My task was not simply to ask for monetary donations to swell Greenpeace’s coffers, but to get people to become card-carrying members—a pressure group relies on the size of its membership to put the weight of public opinion behind its causes.

The canvassing staff are divided up into groups of five or six and given a part of town to work on; each team has a field manager who assigns sub-sections of the area to each canvasser. After a couple of days of shadowing more established canvassers, learning about the issues in general and the specifics of Greenpeace’s work, I was trusted with my own turf each afternoon in which to sign up as many members as I could.

I was rubbish.

Read the rest of “Canvassing for Greenpeace”…

Sad news of the death of Dave Allen. I remember enjoying his comedy when I was growing up, although I’m sure I didn’t appreciate it as fully as I did upon hearing it again as an adult. There’s one sketch I remember in particular, a long story [they were all long stories!] about trying to teach a child how to tell the time.

The first hand, the shortest one, that’s the hour hand. No, not “our hand”, the hour hand. Then the second hand is the minute hand, and the third hand is the second hand. No, it’s not a minute hand as well. The second hand is the minute hand. But the third is the second.

And so on, only funnier. It’s perhaps a testament as to how protective he was over his material that I can’t find a transciption of the sketch anywhere.

It also struck me how rare it is [or it seems to be, at any rate] these days to hear news of people simply dying in their sleep. No “long battle against” nor “sudden illness”. It was just his time. However the hell you tell it.

Comic Relief, registered charity 326568

Today is RND‘05. Following on from the raging success of two years ago, where this site raised a stonking £8.40, I shall be again donating-per-comment, but this year I’m pledging to donate a whopping 50p per comment. So come on people, get yakking in the space below.

And of course, you can always donate yourself if you feel so inclined—although I’m fairly sure they’d prefer you to donate money instead of donating yourself. [See what I did there?]

The Register points out that quite a large number of MPs could be technically breaking electoral rules once the General Election is on, due to the use of “mp” in the URL of their web presence—during the election process their membership of Parliament is up for grabs, so they are not allowed to advertise themselves as MPs until [if ever] they win back their seat.

The Register seems to suggest that taking the site down for the duration of the election is the best course of action, but there seems to me to be another obvious solution: just alter a few lines of the site’s source code and claim that the “MP” stands for something else.

• Mural Painter

• Minty Phallus

• Mindless Prattle

• Moot Point

• Master of Pogo-sticks

They’d probably need to be apt though, so although “Michael Howard, Midnight Prowler” might conjure up the famous description of him having “something of the night” about him, “Ann Widdecombe, Massage Parlour” should be avoided at all costs, in every sense.

• How a Dyson vacuum cleaner works

• The square root of 2,049

• The size of the strawberries I got from Tesco the other day [disturbingly large]

• The length of time between my buying a DVD burner and burning my first DVD [five months: early September–yesterday]

• The amount of marking I’ve got to do [sixty-three Excel spreadsheets]

• My costume for a “Through the Ages” fancy dress party in two weeks

• The average weight of a rabbit

• Whiskey

• The ratio of how often I cut my fingernails to how often I cut my toenails [current estimate is 5:1]

• Mädchen Amick

• Breaking in my new boots [several days of nerve-tingling pain shooting up through my shins, but they’re loosening up nicely now]

• Trees

• The origin of the word “rutting”

• Several others things

• And many more things besides those other things

• And everything else on the planet

Scientists have discovered a way of turning orange peel into plastic, using cardon dioxide and a catalyst—they’re optimistically suggesting that this could be a route to reducing CO2 emissions into the atmosphere as well as cutting down on the usage of oil to make plastics. Hopefully they’ll still let me juice the oranges first though.

Risking a Boris Johnson-style backlash, I’m not going to observe today’s three minute silence. Obviously it’s up to the individual whether they want to partake in a collective silence as a mark of respect, but to stand stock still and say nothing a little over a week after the disaster, when countless survivors are struggling to come to terms with what has happened to their homes, to their families and friends, seems rather pointless to me.

Perhaps I’m grossly misjudging human nature, but I really don’t think the people affected would give a damn whether we fell silent for three minutes as a mark of respect or not, and would much rather we did something a little more pro-active if we wanted to do anything at all.

Aside from all that, my new project is to attempt to figure out, via interpolation, the secret formula they use to determine the lengths of the silences recently observed in the UK. My data points thus far are:

• Three minutes ten days after the tsunami which has claimed over 150,000 people [and counting]

• Two minutes every Remembrance Day in honour of the millions of people killed serving their countries in the two great wars of the twentieth century

• Two minutes allocated one day after the event of Ken Bigley’s murder

• Three minutes three days after the terrorist attacks of September 11th 2001 which had a deathtoll of more than 5,000 people

• Zero minutes silence in respect of the 800 people killed in Bangladesh’s floods last summer

Not sure I’ll have much luck fitting a curve through that lot.

If you happen to live in the Lincolnshire area and have a spare hour or so, you could find out where Christopher Pierson lives, go round to his house and call him a tosser.

The court was told Pierson sent up to 35 emails to relatives who had posted their details on the Sky News website.

Olive Assien, prosecuting, said the emails purported to be from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office in Thailand.

They stated “that the UK Government regretted to inform the victim that the missing person they were inquiring about was confirmed dead”.

I really don’t understand how some people’s minds work.

• Wikipedia’s entry is incredibly comprehensive and coherent. [Via Neil’s Smaller World.]

• Stv and Jo had a very minor interaction with the subsequent tidal wave tsunami [thanks to mrtn for pointing out that there was absolutely nothing tidal about the wave], much to our relief.

• Alice Miles’s comments in The Times:

  And what of England’s Churches? Oddly, silent too. Their bishops, so often the high priests of portentous blather, appear to have been struck dumb. This even though—or perhaps because—many of their followers, to judge from e-mails reaching The Times, consider the Indian Ocean earthquake to be God’s work: “Why does Lord Rees-Mogg call the earthquake an act of nature, when it is an act of God? Has he forgotten his Bible? Isaiah xi, 7 I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster, I, the LORD, do all these things.” Yes, it is the duty of Christian leaders to try to answer these things.

  Perhaps those are debates for another time—but is there ever a long-enough lull?

• Oxfam’s donation page. Wikipedia is maintaining a temporary page listing other charitable organisations dealing with the relief and humanitarian effort.

For various reasons, whilst I live in a three-bedroom house on my own most of the time, sometimes my landlady and her husband will be staying here at weekends, or perhaps for a couple of weeks at a time, over Christmas for example. Due to this new and slightly unusual arrangement, we have agreed that I will continue to pay the same level of rent but from now on, she will pay all the bills instead of me [except for the TV licence and my broadband connection].

The question is this: whilst I am usually of the “put on another jumper” school of keeping-warm-and-saving-money [not to mention being absolutely loathe to use a tumble-drier in any but the most emergent of situations], now that my central-heating usage no longer directly affects my bank balance, is it morally wrong of me to whack up the heating full-blast for ten hours a day?

Remember the Genesis probe that was sent out to catch some solar particles? You know the one: on re-entry it was supposed to be caught in mid-air by Hollywood stunt pilots, but they failed to catch it because the probe’s parachutes, designed to slow down its descent, didn’t deploy.

It transpires that the reason the parachutes didn’t deploy was [wait for it] because “‘a design error that involves the orientation’ of the switches meant the sequence failed”. At least, that’s what NASA’s official report says. The New York Times puts it a little more succinctly:

[F]our switches that were to deploy the capsule’s parachutes were installed upside down.

Two-hundred and sixty-four million dollars. Oops.

1939–2004

John Peel was responsible for most of the music I listened to as a teenager, filtered down through my brother’s selective taping of his Radio 1 show, bands like The Fall and The Orb interspersed with his instantly-recognisable voice. I remember once he played all forty-odd minutes of The Blue Room single without interruption—no one else could have got away with that.

I was in San Francisco about three years ago where, in an upstairs backroom of a fairly grotty bar called The Edinburgh Castle, along with nine or ten other people, I saw a great band called Potion perform a tiny gig. I went up to them afterwards, bought their CD and chatted for a while. As soon as they heard my accent they talked about wanting to come over the England to play a few gigs, and I asked if they had done anything about getting known over here. They said they had asked around, and everyone had told them the same thing: send your tape to John Peel.

He was a great champion of unknown bands, and is truly irreplaceable.

It’s not often I feel moved to comment on politics or current affairs, but I have to say that the furor over the editorial in The Spectator has gotten completely out of hand. If you don’t know what I’m referring to, you can read the editorial on The Spectator’s website, but that requires registration, or at least use of BugMeNot, so I’m going to reproduce it here.

Read the rest of “The Spectator editorial”…

I did write a new entry.

It was about the fact that the village of Lost in Scotland have get a new, thief-proof sign, because people kept nicking the old one.

Except it was rubbish.

The entry. Not the sign, I’d imagine the sign is pretty good, being thief-proof and all. No, the entry was rubbish.

Still, thought I’d link to the story anyway.

About eighteen months ago I went to a promotional night for the Ig Nobel awards, and I didn’t think much of them—I thought them a bit too silly. This year’s awards have just been announced, and these seem much more along the lines I was hoping for: research that sounds like it was fun or a bit weird to carry out, but still with a valid point.

• In the psychology category, the award went to collaborative work between Harvard and the University of Illinois in which a number of subjects were asked to watch a video of people throwing a couple of basketballs around, counting the number of times the balls were thrown, and then asked if they noticed the man in a gorilla suit who walked straight through the picture, pausing to beat his chest. A significant proportion did not.

• The prize for medicine went to the researches who showed an apparent correllation between suicide rates and the amount of country music played on local radio. I particularly liked their acceptance speech:

  [If] you play country records backwards, your dog and estranged spouse come home and you get your job back.

Special mention was made of US patent 4,022,227, filed in 1975, patenting the combover: a “method of concealing partial baldness”, which includes [if you jump through a few hoops and get the right plugin to allow you to view them] instructional images, demonstrating the technique.

A method of styling hair to cover partial baldness using only the hair on a person’s head. The hair styling requires dividing a person’s hair into three sections and carefully folding one section over another.

I wonder if our old friend in the States knows that he owes Messers Smith and Smith some royalties?

Read the rest of “Regionalism”…

Read the rest of “Extra sensory detection”…

Read the rest of “Slow news day”…

Read the rest of “Bloomsday”…

Read the rest of “European Elections”…

Read the rest of “I’d hate to see them order from the menu”…

Read the rest of “135,8585,8585—Lucky for some?”…

Read the rest of “Multi-coloured chicks”…

Read the rest of “Another myth shattered”…

Read the rest of “Selective censorship”…

Read the rest of “Ireland bans smoking”…

Read the rest of “A month under the Golden Arches”…

Read the rest of “A lot’s in a name, for some”…

Read the rest of “CD-WOE”…

Read the rest of “Useful tip”…

Read the rest of “can i name the general? yes, his name is ‘general’”…

Read the rest of “tatty too”…

Read the rest of “all together now”…

Read the rest of “irritated by bowles syndrome”…

Read the rest of “in other news”…

Read the rest of “snap a falling star”…

Read the rest of “payback”…

Read the rest of “life on, and off, earth”…

Read the rest of “node or oed?”…

Read the rest of “right on, lefties”…

Read the rest of “the glorious twelfth”…

Read the rest of “brainpower”…

Read the rest of “dear george”…

Read the rest of “no news is bad news”…

Read the rest of “don’t mention it”…

Read the rest of “rock me amadeus”…

Read the rest of “creature feature”…

Read the rest of “quitting the habit”…

Read the rest of “don’t lose your wallet in the midlands”…

Read the rest of “would you like a flake in that?”…

Read the rest of “the long journey home”…

Read the rest of “there’s no frizziness in show business”…

Read the rest of “leaping to conclusions”…

Read the rest of “the war against spam”…

Read the rest of “end of the line”…

Read the rest of “quantum mechanics at work”…

Read the rest of “text appeal”…

Read the rest of “human baiting”…

Read the rest of “extra! extra! blog all about it!”…

Read the rest of “noted”…

Read the rest of “a braver man than i”…

Read the rest of “on a wing and a prayer”…

Read the rest of “trust mr brown”…

Read the rest of “who wants to be on ‘millionaire’?”…

Read the rest of “fundamental needs [part 2]”…

Read the rest of “it’s contagious”…

Read the rest of “belated linkage”…

Read the rest of “evolving opinions”…

Read the rest of “i’m no gas-bag”…

Read the rest of “fundamental needs”…

Read the rest of “dob [denial of blogging] attack”…

Read the rest of “justification”…

Read the rest of “at the third stroke…”…

Read the rest of “who wants to be on trial?”…

Read the rest of “first task in a new career”…

Read the rest of “more interpolation”…

Read the rest of “bet he’ll have two from the top and pwoar from anywhere else”…

Read the rest of “auntie’s new look”…

Read the rest of “keep on moving”…

Read the rest of “menthol, vapourising, action”…

Read the rest of “goodbye dolly”…

Read the rest of “simple logic”…

Read the rest of “shut up shop”…

Read the rest of “uncommon time”…

Read the rest of “and the winner is…no-one”…

Read the rest of “sloblock”…

Read the rest of “keep fit with george dubya”…

Read the rest of “missing link”…

Read the rest of “no grey area”…

Read the rest of “nestlé vs. rest of the world”…

Read the rest of “no more tomorrow’s”…