Alexander von Humbolt

EFIL4STOWS

September 14, 1769 – May 6, 1859

Over-achievers. There was always one in your class at school. There's often one at work. Some of us have them as friends (not me, of course). They can be admirable, inspiring, annoying - depends on the personality type, of both the over-achiever and the achiever-perceiver.

Alexander von Humbolt (AvH, A-Hum or 'ver Uber Boffin' if he was getting a write-up in the red-tops) was the over-achiever's over-achiever. The thinking man's crumpet. Intellectually, he'd get it.

Let's take, for example, his summer holiday of 1789. Humbolt went on an excursion up the Rhine and by way of a memoir of this trip he wrote the treatise Mineralogische Beobachtungen über einige Basalte am Rhein or Mineralogic observations on some basalts at the river Rhine. Treatise. Mineralgic observations. He was 20 years old. Hmm.

That was nothing though, Humbolt as a mere callow youth. He would look back at his inexperienced fumbling with the Rhine basalts with a mixture of wistful nostalgia and a nagging frustration that he hadn't both discovered and thoroughly researched the K-hole while he was still in his teens. Everyone makes mistakes and has regrets, but most of us don't then spend the rest of our lives standing astride the globe in polymathic splendour; going everywhere, measuring and recording everything, making significant findings in the natural sciences, geography, meteorology and the rest to boot. Most of us don't have squids, willows, towns, mountains, universities and hog-nosed skunks named after us. He does. Are you an honorary Mexican citizen? Guess what.

It was easier in those days, of course, but even still it's clear the boy was different gravy. Where I consider it an achievement to make it out of the house at the weekend, Humbolt wrote Kosmos - an attempt to unify the various branches of scientific knowledge, in five volumes. Five volumes! It sometimes takes me more than a week to come up with this dreck and most of that is copy-pasting from Wikipedia with a few silly words thrown in for good measure. I blame my generation, if I was born into a prominent mid-19th Century Pomeranian family it would be a different story altogether. I still probably wouldn't have been worshipped by Darwin though but that's all right - the whole Creation thing left me a bit cold apart from Swervedriver.

Status: Dead

Lookalike: Inspector George Gently

In Three Words: Work-Life Balance

Crunchie

1929 -

Remember Crunchies? Of course you do, amnesia hasn't been fashionable since 2007, everyone remembers all types of stuff these days. Remember postage stamps? Walking? Urinal cakes? Eeeh, remember 'cars'? Yes man, start whinging about the bloody sweets for pity's sake.

Crunchie, then. It used to just come in a bar format but now you can get it in everything - ice cream, yoghurt, Crunchie Rocks, snuff. 'Milk Chocolate with Golden Honeycombed Centre", or posh cinder toffee for the busy modern professional when the Hoppings isn't on. 

Thank Crunchie It's Friday! That was the marketing slogan for a while. What a stinker. Unfortunately I can remember actual people saying it in real life, they were probably the same people who think Chris Evans is "fun". I didn't know then what I know now - that was the first nail in Crunchie's coffin (Crunchie's Coffin was one marketing opportunity they failed to capitalise on - skellington-shaped crunchie in a special box? It would knock the munchers bandy around Hallowe'en time. There's not enough gallows humour in the confectionary world. I blame those Quakers down in Bourneville. That's also why chocolate and beer don't go together, no matter what they think at the Trent House).

Crunchies aren't dead, but they're dead to me. I bought a pack of four at the Tesco Metro on the way home the other night because a) they were the first thing you saw as you walked in and b) they were on special offer at 82p. I would never have considered buying them otherwise, in fact I can't even remember the last time I even thought of a Crunchie until then. I am nothing if not a bit of a tramp, impulsive, but a tramp nonetheless.

The trouble with Crunchie bars is they're a nightmare to eat. The honeycomb bit either jars to bite through or gets hopelessly clagged onto your teeth, or both. This means you regret eating one before you've even got the whole thing down your gullet. And you can't just toothbrush the wreckage off your choppers afterwards either so you're committed to a good half hour off picking it away with your (crossed) fingers hoping you don't take a filling out at the same time. I don't want that from a chocolate bar, teasing a bit of debris off with your tongue is fine, but not a full scale archeological dig - I associate that kind of thing with that hairy wally from Time Time, the male equivalent of Charlie Dimmock one? You don't want those kind of mental images at hand when you're putting things into your mouth.

Status: Zombie

Lookalike: Wispa Gold

In Three Words: Choose Something Different

Rev. John Stott

Stott (r) with the Holy Ghost.

27 April 1921 – 27 July 2011

The Reverend John Stott, who died on July 27 aged 90, was one of the most influential Anglican clergymen of the 20th century. He was declared one of the world's 100 most influential people in Time magazine in 2005. He also wore muckle shoes and favoured a kilt.

Stott wrote over 50 books, including the 1958 classic "Basic Christianity," which sold more than 2.5 million copies. Using the profits from his writing, Stott funded the training of ministers from poor countries before sending them back out like a botnet attack on their homelands, pestering hitherto contented goatherds with tales of God's young 'un.

So what else did he do? Let's say he invented Stottie cakes because he liked the feeding of the five thousand so much shall we? I can't be bothered researching his actual life any more. He also developed a mixture of small sugar coated sweets called Jelly Stotts but was badly let down by an unscrupulous confectionary agent who dropped the 'S' and sold the concept as his own to Rowntree-Mackintosh. Stott was probably devasted by the betrayal and this is what led him to devote his life to the church or something. He unsuccesfully ran for mayor of Nottingham on the promise of altering its name slightly so it sounded a bit more like his. I don't know. He mentored prominent religious hectorer and mate o' the presidents Billy Graham, they used to get together and watch Blott on the Landscape; John would claim it was all about him and Billy would tease him by saying it was really about Alan Knott. Billy was on the right tracks but slightly off target, it was actually about Jonathan Trott. John didn't like cricket, he liked teapots, robots and AC/DC (Bon Scott).

Status: Dead

Lookalike: An academic Bobby Robson

In Three Words: Ham, Pease Pudding

Amy Winehouse

Before.

14 September 1983 – 23 July 2011

Was it by design or misadventure? Did she fulfil her own destiny? Is she now an all-time great or was she actually a bit of a flash-in-the-pan?  Did she really "die happy"? Questions. Here's another question: didn't she look a bit like a badly neglected horse?

Amy Winehouse died as she lived - in London's massively overrated Camden Town - where menacing street nuisances are 'characters', where hepped-up nightmares are 'revellers' and where there's as many as two decent pubs. Camden, where alternative types flock so they can all look different together. Winehouse made Camden her own and they loved her for it. Amy's just larruped one of her own fans in the face yeah? Genius yeah? Camden innit, standard.

She broke through with her debut album 'Frank' - a 13 piece song cycle which doubled as a love letter to England and Chelsea midfielder Frank Lampard. It was a bold move for a new artist and one which was received favourably by the critics, regarded as a promising arrival on the British music scene. Her love for Lampard junior went unrequited, however, the Chelsea Chubber finding love at the time with Elen Rives and latterly with star of ITV's Daybreak (and half of Adrian Chiles) - Christine Bleakley. Never having a strong grasp of football, Amy turned her attentions to Blake Fielder-Civil after he bragged about "having trials with QPR once" but "preferred having lie-ins and getting bonced". It was a ruinous relationship, Fielder-Civil wound up in jail and Winehouse began a downward spiral from which she would never fully recover. QPR denied any responsibility.

Frank was a strong start but it was her 2006 single 'Kebab' which thrust her fully under the spolight. Winehouse said the track was inspired by the Smiths song Meat Is Murder, when asked about this in an NME interview (in 2003) Morrisey said “In England, pop music seems now to be exclusively for children. If an artist is no good, why is it necessary to have that artist repeatedly rammed in our face? That Sarah Beeney would get it, by the way. Norks on it”.

Winehouse died aged 27 and in doing so joined a group of artists including; Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, Billie Holiday, the Big Punisher, Buddy Holly, Falco, Odetta and Per "Dead" Ohlin from Mayhem who all died at different times, at different ages and of different causes. Spooky? Well they were unavailable for comment, possibly celebrating the 19th anniversary of their debut 12" 'Land Of Oz' on Guerilla records (GRRR36). Coincidence? I don't remember a band called Coincidence - probably for the best, that.

At least in dying so young she never got a chance to go a bit shit. Most musicians that've been around for a while have to negotiate a spell in the artistic doldrums, remember Todd Rundgren's blue hair n' viking helmet period? Aphex Twin spent some time claiming that he wrote his tunes whilst lucid dreaming. Really Aphex? Who've you got on remix duties, Jimmy Hill? Paul McCartney wrote the Frog Chorus - he also wrote Pipes Of Peace, take your pick. No doubt there'll be some posthumous releases from Winehouses's record label, the smart money must be on a collaborative mash-up with the N-Dubz. Camden innit?

Status: Dead

Lookalike: The yellow one from Angry Birds

In Three Words: Bankrolled The Zutons

Claude Monet

Wants his gan.

14th Nov 1840 - 19th Dec 1926

Bit of a radgie, apparently. Well, he was in the art world anyway. He wasn't a dafty in the classic sense of word mind - he didn't try setting up potato printing workshops in the Garter or anything like that. He and his mates did cause a bit of a stink in the Paris art world of the mid-19th Century though, earning him the nickname 'le Whiff' in the process.

Monet, his twin brother Manet, and their mates; Pissarro, Renoir, Sisley and Cezanne developed a new style of painting through their use of colour applied with short brush strokes and a preference for contemporary subjects in their work, such as cliffs, haystacks and boulevards - the usual. They became known as the Impressionists after it transpired at their first exhibition in 1874 that Renoir did a brilliant impression of Victor Hugo, on the toilet. The name stuck and they were forced to exhibit under it for the rest of their careers despite the eventual disintegration of relationships within the group. Monet eventually absconded to the Netherlands after Pissarro grew a bigger beard than him, they never spoke again and all subsequent Monet males were painted clean-shaven. 

In Holland Monet succumbed to the stereotypical temptations - gabber, total football and an insistence on wearing Nike Air Max at all times. In time Dutch culture began to have a debilitating effect on Monet and realising he was spending increasing amounts of time hanging around cheese markets, rambling on to himself about polders, he decided to return to France. Back in his motherland, free to pronounce 'onion' without fear of ridicule, Monet put his time in the Netherlands behind him and produced what would become his most famous works - with the second biggest beard in France and a pond as his muse.

Status: Dead

Lookalike: Grizzly Adams with a grade 4

In Three Words: Gabber! Gabber! Gabber!

News Of The World

Thanks for the memories:

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- 'Bumming' 'Makes You Deaf'

- Boffins discover 'Gary Kemp Gene'- Mandelson: My Boyfriend Is Gay

- Harry Potter Is Otter Botter! Radcliffe's Shameful Riverside Romps

- Pea-dophile! Baby Veg Shame Of TV Chef

- Donald Sinden Clears 'Never The 'Twain' Samples - 50 Cent To Release 'Toby Jug Bitch'

- 'Rev. Arse Potato' Promoted To Bishop

- Fake Sheik At Cake Bake With Greg Lake - Prog Rocker Sells Charity Buns, Shuns Publicity

- Take Scat! Howard Donald Enjoys Sick 'Brown Thursday' Orgies

Raoul Moat

17.06.73 - 10.07.10

Panel beater, bouncer, tree surgeon.

1983 - Men Without Hats. 1996 - Babylon Zoo. 2000 - Baha Men. 2010 - Raoul Moat. For a few of weeks of 2010 Raoul Moat was the number one hit of the summer. The media went into a frenzy, the 24hr tv news channels were as happy as a dog with two cocks and a bowlful of discount cialis from the internet.

It was a story as old as time itself. Moat, a former doorman and overgrown radge-packet from Fenham marked his release from Durham prison after serving an 18 week sentence for assaulting a nine year old child by calling on his former girlfriend Samantha Stobbart and her new partner Chris (not that one) Brown - and learning them with a shotgun. He then went on the run, pausing to shoot PC David Rathband in the face and rob the chippy in Seaton Delaval before disappearing into rural Northumberland. The hunt was on, the media popped another bluey.

Moat was on the run for a week. Northumbria police, after cadging armoured anti-terrorist vehicles from the Northern Ireland polis and an RAF jet off Prince William's lot, decided they also needed the help of TV survival teddybear Ray Mears. They drew the line at Gazza "Paul" Gascoigne however, after he turned up offering his services during the final stand-off in which Moat died. Seemingly the ability to methodically track the movements of a feral lunk in open country outweighed the 'chicken and fishing' brand of negotiation offered by the clown prince of British drinking. And people say the peelers don't know what they're doing.

There was no denying that Moat divided opinion, while the media jostled for position to spurt out condemnation in their own game of soggy biscuit, others viewed Moat as a man pushed to breaking point by the system. A maverick. A renegade. Dorty Harry. Despite having no connection at all to Moat, swatika-tattooed Teresa Bystram from Surrey took three of her children on a 550 mile round trip to attend the funeral of her hero. "It was better than Legoland" she said; obviously not a plastic fan.

Chris Brown died. Stobbart survived, Moat sent a card to her in hospital whilst on the run saying '"no joke, get well soon". PC Rathband was permanently blinded but went on to complete the London marathon in 2011, saying afterwards: “During the race I took myself back to the night I was shot. It hurt that much – but not as much as when I was shot – and I literally ran in my mind from the car to the local hospital up the road just to finish the last three miles.” Lumme. Aye, British bobbies - best in the world.


Status: Gone but not forgotten
Lookalike: Junior Gorg (The Gym Years)
In Three Words: One hit wonder