I Love Science, But Sometimes It Makes Me Sad

Science is great. Before I went to secondary school and found out the science teachers were awful and the English teachers were divine, I always thought I would go into some branch of science when I grew up. When I was four I wanted to be an archaeologist. By the time I was nine I wanted to do forensics. When I was about ten I briefly looked at physics, and then quickly shut the door again. I still do like science a lot, just not in an academic sense. It's no secret that I have a bottomless pit of love for Brian Cox. Indeed, when the trailer for his Science Of Doctor Who lecture came up on my telly box, I squealed so loudly that my mother left the room.

But sometimes science does bad things, and that makes me sad. This afternoon while out adventuring in the Welsh countryside with my dad, we came across a fish farm. We didn't think it was a fish farm at first, because it looks like a front for a shady James-Bond-villain type operation. We googled it, and it turns out it is in fact, a fish farm. Which is fine, it itself. It is in fact the only producer of sea bass in the UK, so there we go. They're very proud of themselves because they use fancy, fishy technology, which means that the fish grow faster. They also keep them very densely stocked, so the fish hardly have any room to move freely. Under normal circumstances the fish would suffer very high stress level from these conditions, so to compensate they put extra oxygen in the water to calm them down. 
I kind of think the fish would be better off with just a bit more space. Although the company website claims they're happy, I'm not entirely sold. They were very cramped. It's like a massive fish shopping center near Christmas when people are running out of time do do the shopping, only instead of getting some new shoes, you get eaten in the end. 

The other thing, which I think is a little bit worse, is the 'cockroach backpack app' which the BBC reported on today. I know the BBC has to maintain an even view and stay on the middle ground, but luckily, I don't. I can be as biased and annoyed as I like. And I am very, of both.
It's a horrible idea. In an attempt to 'encourage children to take an interest in neuroscience', an app has been developed which links a mobile phone to a chipboard glued to a cockroaches back, after it's antennae have been removed, and part of it's shell sandpapered off. Two little needles are pushed into it's head, which allow whoever has the app to control in which direction the insect moves. There's a small plethora of issues with this. For one, no, I don't care that it's only a cockroach. The idea that humans should be placed in a position of importance over all other creatures is both mean, and creepy. Just because it's  gross, does not mean we should be permitted to go around wildly torturing it. If someone did the same operation on a human, a horse, a dog or a hamster there would be outcry, and the RSPCA would be sent in lickedy split, on the double. So be nice to cockroaches, yeah? They're ew, but they've never shoved a mind-controlling circuit into your brain. Another point is is the reasons the manufacturers have for making it.   They say that it encouraged kids to develop in interest in neuroscience. No it doesn't. It says to kids "here, you like hurting small things, hurt this one WITH AN IPHONE, BECAUSE THOSE ARE COOL AS WELL!" No child will be piloting a cockroach thinking "This is great, I'm going to try and cure depression when I grow up." Not any child that I know, anyway.

Finally, I'll end on a slightly petty note, because I do that quite well. According to the creators the backpacks "allow students to do graduate level research early in life". THAT'S NOT A GOOD THING. GET GRADUATE STUDENTS TO DO GRADUATE RESEARCH. STOP TRYING TO SHIFT IT ONTO KIDS SO YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH BULLYING TINY INSECTS, YOU NASTY, INSUFFERABLE, MISPLACED ELECTRICIANS. I hope the kids pilot the cockroaches into your soup.


PS, I'm doing a re-haul of my blogroll. If you have a blog you want me to promote then leave a comment with a link and I'll have a look. Triple chances if I know you. 

All I Want Is A Female Brian Cox

I love Brian Cox. I think he’s great. Properly, honestly great. He sort of vaguely wondered into our lives with the force of a Sherman tank, and then refused to leave. He sat down on the living room sofa of England and said “You need some science. Here, here is some science, delivered from the top of a gorgeous mountain which you too will want to stand on, but only after I’ve finished with it. And trust me; you’ll be able to, because after I’ve finished with it, this mountain won’t be able to walk for three weeks. Stand on my mountain, and love science.” And all of England immediately made him a cup of tea and cried “Of course we shall stand on this lovely mountain, you insanely beautiful man! What fools we have been, to believe in homeopathy and the apocalypse before we gazed upon your lovely face.” And then Brian Cox nodded, and wondered off to drink his tea, and play a bit of dodgy piano. 
I’m really glad we have Brian Cox. He’s bought science to the normal people, made physics cool, and worn an All Saints polo shirt while doing it. Really, very cool. 
But I’m greedy, and now I want a female version. As a raging feminist, I think women need a female Brian Cox. The closest thing we have is Mary Beard, lovely, quirky and interesting, but still not science, and still not shaggable. I don’t mean that in a way that want Scarlett Johnson running around in a lab coat, pointing at the sky and screaming “Wow! Gravity!”, but more in the way that I want a woman who you can fancy, and is still really, profoundly clever. 
Watching any program at the moment that has a bit of a science-y segment, and that has a female presenter, it is guaranteed that she will end up in a lab, looking a little bit lost, asking an actual scientist what the hell is going on, before turning to look doe-eyed into the camera, and announcing it’s time to go back to the studio. 
Nope. Defo not what’s needed. No seems to have yet managed to bridge the divide between ‘female scientist’, and ‘female presenter’. I want someone who a ten year old girl will look at and go “Wow! I bet loads of boys fancy her, and she knows the theory of relativity inside out. I wish I could be like her when I grow up.” I want a bird who throws on a McQueen sports bra to go inside an anti-gravity chamber – which she helped build. If she climbs up a mountain to observe the Northern Hemisphere in winter, I want her to snow board back down, without first having to get a bloke to strap her into her ski boots, and give her a push. 
Is that too much to ask? I like to think it isn’t. If a bloke can do it, why can’t we? Maybe, out there somewhere, there are thousands of women with PhDs and big hair, jostling to host their own physics show, on prime time BBC. Maybe the media think that no one would watch it, it would be a novelty for all of five seconds, before burning out like an asteroid entering the atmosphere. And of course it wouldn’t. Loads of people would watch it, and it would be wonderful. A wonderful new role model to sit our daughters down and say “You can be feminine, and love science, and you should, because you’ll be able to actually work out which face creams will work just by reading the ingredients.”  A lovely, big haired chick in walking boots and kaftan climbing up hills, and knowing stuff, and wanting to tell everyone about it, because science is just so incredibly wonderful that the only rational thing to do is to scream it from the top of a mountain. 
And if she just so happened to play keyboard in a series of truly alarming bands in the 80s, well, that would just be a bonus. 

Summoning Brian Cox Like A Demon (But Sexier)

Three background points you need for this story:

1. I am currently deeply infatuated with Brian Cox
2. Brian Cox lives in Manchester
3. I went out in Manchester the other night with some friends.

Cue me sat in a pizza shop at half two in the morning, with my brother, staring at my phone and gently crying "Brian Cox never tweeted me back." In my defence, it was my brother's idea to tweet him in the first place. We were on Canal Street at the time, which is a part of Manchester which is world famous for it's gay village. I was talking (mostly to myself) about how awesome it would be to have Brian Cox in a gay club, and the tweeting him was suggested. Let's face it, it would have been hilarious. Unfortunately, as we were out clubbing, I ended  up a wee bit tipsy. I get scheme-y when I'm tipsy. And  then I came up with the idea that it's possible to summon Brian Cox, like a demon. Which is how I ended up outside TigerTiger screaming "D:REAM" at the sky. I have to admit, nothing happened. We walked back through the city to the hotel, and naturally, all spent most of the way with our eyes peeled, in case any unknowing physicists popped up anywhere.

None did.

However, When we got back to the hotel, OE and I got in bed, and stuck the telly on, only to witness Brian Cox, eating a curry. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. 

I take this as a sign from the universe that I need to try harder with my summoning.

Thats a stylised CERN logo on my forehead, there. The pink lipstick is in honour of all the  godawful bands he was in, in the 80's. All I need now are some candles, salt pentagram, and a large hadron colider.