Let's face it, nothing says Christmas more than Barry, does it? I wish it did.

Chances are high that this blog will be even looser with its science content than normal, but, come on, it’s Xmas. Also, I’m sorry if writing ‘Xmas’ instead of Christmas offends you, but it saves letters and the onset of carpal tunnel syndrome. Admittedly, typing the explanation has used far more letters than simply writing Christmas rather than Xmas, but you’ve only got yourself to blame.

Yes, Christmas is a few weeks away, or ago, depending on when you read this, and it’s the time for festivities, fun, frolics, food, terrible television, boredom...(Apart from the time off, I hate Christmas. I hate people who write ‘Xmas’ even more)

A topic for this Christmas blog...hmmm...what to go for? Religion vs Science? That would be a tasty one, but it's been done to death.

“Prove he doesn’t exist.”
“Prove he does exist.”

“Fancy a pint instead?”

So, instead, I’ve got to find someone to insult. So I was thinking I may as well insult all of you: Christmas brings one thing for the chemist....very little.

Wind down has well and truly begun (which is also visible in the quality of this blog post).

At work, I’ve got a tonne of some chemical coming in from China and a tonne of some other stuff (probably a chemical) coming in from India, and the companies want the analytical methods and approval and...the bottom line is they don’t seem to understand the concept of a Christmas pub lunch.



As soon as the Xmas decorations go up (August in Great Yarmouth) the magical wind down begins.

Whilst the retail industry enjoys its busiest, most-productive period, chemists wind down to nothingness, citing lab tidy-ups, unfinished write-ups, and other webs of lies and deceit.  It's not that we're lazy. No, it's because...erm...



Not peak overloading, I just can’t draw very well.

Unfortunately, poor biologists, specifically zoologists (biologists with a degree including a module in picking up animal faeces) are busy all over the festive period because they are doing stuff like this:



Transferable skills for Disney Land vacancies, I guess.

If you didn’t see this, Chinese scientists are dressing up so that baby pandas will think they're pandas, not credible scientists. I've got faith; I'm sure they won't recognise them as scientists.

I’m not getting into it here, but I have a BIG problem with pandas.

Actually I will get into it. In fact, this blog is now about pandas. Christmas is cancelled; pandas are rubbish. They are huge and pick the calorific equivalent of celery as their only food source (OK, 99%, pedants), and not only that, they are scared of members of the opposite sex, like eight-year-olds at a school disco.

Enough of pandas.

Enough of biologists.

Enjoy your wind-down, friends. And, if you’re not winding down, and you're offended by this post because you're extremely busy I want to hear about it. And if you’re unfortunate enough to be working over the Christmas period.... hahahahahahahahaha!

Merry Christmas everyone and see you all in the New Year.

Names, terms and sayings are things I always get muddled up. You know—Stuff you shouldn’t forget, but it isn’t the end of the world if you do. The sort of thing you shout to a work buddy, asking a two second question in hope of a two second reminder.

• Which way’s downfield on an NMR spectrum?
• Is R or S anti-clockwise?
• Is this X-ray tube I’m looking at on?

Little things which don’t really matter... like a General Studies A-Level.

But, naming something, anything, gives it an identity, gives it power, and scientists are terrible at it. Especially elements: Americium? Europium?—give me strength. A big shout out to Berzelius for naming an element after the god of thunder! Thorium! It sounds as hard as nails and it can power a nuclear reactor. YEAH!



What prompted this blog was the mini Big Bang which the guys playing with the Large Hadron Collider created. On a pedantic side note, how can you have a mini Big Bang? Surely it becomes a Mini Bang, or ‘mini’ and ‘big’ cancel each other out and you simply get a Bang, albeit one of the most impressive bangs the world has ever heard (if you were standing close enough).

Moving swiftly on. This truly is an amazing piece of science, engineering, vision...you could go on forever about such an immense project. These guys managed to set two lead ions off in different directions at near the speed of light, bend 'em like Beckham, and have them meet for a head-on collision, inducing the hottest temperature the world has ever felt (well, the second hottest temperature).



I can’t get over the hand/eye coordination possessed by the two scientists who lined that up. What a shot! I was Great Yarmouth’s U15 Table Tennis Champion (1995), and, to be brutally honest, it was a big thing, a very big thing, but, still, I think I would have missed even if Roger Federer was firing the other ion.

So yeah, absolutely incredible and hard to believe. Who knows?—Maybe the particle accelerator doesn’t work and they’re just pretending it does so they don't get in trouble, like a first year undergrad’s organic synthesis yield (first years, I’ll let you into a secret:  they know when you hand in mag sulphate).

What’s in a Name? The Large Hadron Collider has to be the worst ever name for the second best ever thing (Cadbury’s Buttons in at number one). The RSC made a big deal out of this a couple of years ago. They took a poll to find out what we think the synchrotron should be called. ‘Halo’ was the most popular answer. According to the RSC, “Halo conjures visions of radiant beauty, power and wisdom. The circle of light reflects the collider's form; it is a crowning achievement of science and engineering. It also gives more than a nod to the experiment's importance to religious debate.”

Meh...

I give to you...

MEGATRON!



GODZILLATRON!



Create your own caption!



We need an injection of creativity. Admittedly, I’m not the one to do it. Once a scientist reaches thirty they should stop shouting “FLAME ON!” like the Human Torch when they get a GC to light. No, any human being who would have called one of the technological wonders of the world, “Big Darren,” shouldn’t be let near...well, anything.

Finally, to contradict everything I’ve just said, I actually love the name 'Large Hadron Collider.' Giving this vast and complex beast such a simple name is a monumental understatement that only something as ‘large’ as a 27 Km particle accelerator can bear.  The genius of the name (surely intentional) is only surpassed by the technology itself....and Cadbury’s Buttons.

Jacko
www.mark-jackman.com

What is the stereotypical view of a scientist?

I really don’t want to waste your valuable time by writing a description of something we’re all too familiar with. After all, when each of us looks in the mirror, don’t we all reflect the same image?

I’ll try an experiment. I’m going to type into Google Images: ‘Stereotypical scientist’ and see what I get. I’ll link the first hit.



Surprise, surprise.

Let’s try ‘scientist’:



Isn’t that one of the Snow Stormtroopers from Empire Strikes Back? (I can tick off the ‘Star Wars Nerd’ box on my ‘Am I a Stereotypical Scientist?’ questionnaire—Ha! I might put one of them together!)

Let’s hone in our trade: ‘Chemist’:




All in all, no surprises, huh?

We do the same thing, do we not? We mess around with chemicals.

..........he measured out a few minims of the red tincture and added one of the powders. The mixture, which was at first of a reddish hue, began, in proportion as the crystals melted, to brighten in colour, to effervesce audibly and to throw off small fumes of vapour. Suddenly and at the same moment, the ebullition ceased and the compound changed to a dark purple, which faded again more slowly to a watery green..........

Stereotypes tend to be stereotypically stereotypical (I promise I won’t write that again).

How about this one:



As you’re probably aware, the bloke above is the ‘Crazy Chemist.’ This is the image that the government hopes will stop teenagers and young adults indulging or thinking of indulging in the ‘new’ craze of legal highs. Our very own RSC has attacked the government for this advertising campaign, and even called for it to be withdrawn. Here's the press release.

Professor Jim Iley, the RSC’s very own Director of Science and Education, was not happy with this "lazy stereotype of the chemist as an unhinged scientist." He also said, “The people dealing in legal highs in towns and cities are not chemists.”

..........The powders were neatly enough made up, but not with the nicety of the dispensing chemist; so that it was plain they were of Jekyll’s private manufacture: and when I opened one of the wrappers I found what seemed to me a simple crystalline salt of white colour. The phial, to which I next turned my attention, might have been about half full of a blood-red liquor, which was highly pungent to the sense of smell and seemed to contain phosphorous and some volatile ether..........

The advertising campaign intends to highlight the potentially devastating effects of certain legal substances. Last month, on the Isle of Wight, a young lad of 24, Michael Bishton, lost his life, the finger pointed at the legal high, Ivory Wave. The government’s concern for youngsters dabbling in these legal chemicals is a well-founded one. We live in a mixed up world which screams mixed messages at us all. The word ‘legal’ is indicative of safety. If legal highs were illegal would it stop people taking them? I doubt it, but that discussion is not the intention of this blog.

My want for the discussion that will hopefully arise is this:

What do you think of the ‘Crazy Chemist?’ Do you think it harms the reputation of chemistry? Of chemists? Do you even care what the public thinks of our image? (Back off, man. I’m a scientist.)

Personally, I think the angle the Government are taking with the ‘Crazy Chemist’ is....actually, a good one.

As stated earlier, I believe safety is associated with legality even though I don’t believe the concept is necessarily true (alcohol, for example). The imagery of a crazed scientist/chemist/drug-fiend, mixing chemicals in his underground laboratory without a care for the safety of his, for want of a better word, customers (actually ‘victims’ would be better), is a powerful one. I don’t associate drug dealing with white coats, Schrödinger equations and nano-erm-things.

But that’s me and I’m already a chemist...and I’m not interested in taking legal highs. My high comes from successful separations from my chromatography column, low levels of detection and high throughput. In other words, I like beer.

This campaign is aimed at young people (ouch...that hurt writing that). If this campaign is effective at preventing them indulging in the dangerous pursuit then it is, in my opinion, a good thing. To counter that, Professor Iley made the point that ‘they [the government] attempted the exact same campaign a year ago and presumably got nowhere.”



Fictional crazy scientists are nothing new. In my last post, I mentioned the craziest scientist of them all, Dr. Jekyll. He wasn’t the first mad scientist. Victor Frankenstein was causing mayhem fifty years beforehand, not wearing his safety specs, and frankly refusing to button up his lab coat (makes me shudder just thinking about it). But Dr. Jekyll was the first crazy chemist, the first famous fictional one of us. “His own tastes being rather chemical than anatomical."

Robert Louis Stevenson’s novella, Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has proved rather popular since its first publication nearly 125 years ago. It’s been transformed into over 100 different film versions. I find that quite incredible. Surely, there’s never been a more popular and widespread vision of a crazier chemist.

..........He put the glass to his lips and drank at one gulp. A cry followed; he reeled, staggered, clutched at the table and held on, staring with injected eyes, gasping with open mouth; and as I looked there came, I thought, a change—he seemed to swell—his face became suddenly black and the features seemed to melt and alter—and the next moment, I had sprung to my feet and leaped back against the wall, my arms raised to shield me from the prodigy, my mind submerged in terror..........



Is Stevenson the reason we suffer this stereotype? Do the public believe we are indeed boffins who are one step away from throwing away our Dungeons and Dragon's role-playing costumes and creating a doomsday device instead? Will the ‘Crazy Chemist’ be yet another nail in the coffin? Do such stories deter youngsters from studying our beloved subject? Do stories such as these draw them in? Again, what do you think?

The novella, Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, is not about chemistry, nor science. In fact, I’ve pretty much taken all the quotes with respect to science and pasted them into this blog (if you wondered what on earth was going on). The story highlights the conflicted nature, good and evil, of man, and, again, is not something for discussion here. We’ll leave that for philosophy professors, wearing comfortable tweed suits with leather patches on the elbows, pipes ablaze, sipping sherry. How stereotypical an image I paint. A damaging one?

This brings me on to my next point. Should the RSC have made such a big deal of this campaign?

Positives have come out of this.

Jim Iley highlights in his statement the good that chemist's do, and this has received national coverage.

"Chemists in the UK and elsewhere invest significant amounts of time to use chemistry to solve health-related issue and, consequently, improving people's lives. Rather than reinforcing unhelpful stereotypes, the government needs to be sending a clear message that we need chemists because they are able to offer positive solutions to the issues facing our society, not contributing to them.”

Well said, that man. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.” No sir-ee. Ask Boy George, ask Wayne Rooney, ask....hang on. I never did understand where the cliché comes from. However, could our demands for the retirement of the 'Crazy Chemist' be interpreted as stuffiness by the younger generations?

Reviewing what I’ve written, I’ve come to the conclusion that a) I can’t spell; b) Most of this blog was copied from another bloke's novel; and c) I haven’t really given an opinion, and merely asked questions of a subjective debate without coming up with anything substantial myself. A career’s advisor would suggest I pursue a career in Middle Management. Still, I hope I’ve raised some interesting points for debate, and I would appreciate your comments and views about the ‘Crazy Chemist,’ and what it means to you.

I could have carried on writing forever, even though all of you stopped reading 600 words ago. So, I’m hoping to continue the topic of ‘image,’ next month.

..........There was something strange in my sensations, something indescribably new and, from its very novelty, incredibly sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself, at the first breath of new life, to be more wicked, tenfold wicked, sold a slave to my original evil; and the thought in that moment, braced and delighted me like wine..........

Mwahahahahahahaha!

Jacko

www.mark-jackman.com

Calm down, people. Before we march on Professor Brian Cox’s swanky West End flat, demanding his head for heinous crimes against our beloved subject, let me explain.

OK, I must admit, directly, Professor Brian Cox hasn’t actually done anything wrong here . Hang on...you at the back, put down the baseball bat...you’ll get us all in trouble. Good, I can continue. What Professor Brian Cox has done, is point out to me where Chemistry is lacking (indirectly—we aren’t really buddies. Even though I send him abusive messages via Twitter sixteen times an hour, 24/7, he never replies. These celebs, huh?).

What chemistry lacks more than any other science or any other subject, for that matter, is celebrity status. We simply don’t have sex appeal. Think about it. I’m not necessarily talking about real scientists here, either. Fictional characters can entice a child to pick up a lab coat and follow a career in any of the sciences. In fact, fictional science, bolstered by the stardust of Hollywood, can inspire a generation. In Hollywood, lab specs are only worn to enhance intellectuality, whilst Safety Inspections are fictitious, devised by demons in nightmares (jokes aside, always wear protection *childishly giggles*).

All the subjects have been blessed with the magic of the silver screen...except us, Chemistry.

Take physics, nuclear physics to be precise. The Incredible Hulk is someone whom we can all relate to.



OK, well maybe not that scene, which is simply bizarre. But, for a young child tackling GCSEs and the horrors of High School, being able to turn into a seven-feet-tall hunk of muscle, and, armed with fists like boulders, crush schoolyard bullies into the playground is somewhat appealing.

It isn’t just physics. Even Archaeology has got this fella:





They dig things up? That’s what archaeologists do. The gas board dig things up, and a lot quicker, which is saying something. Yet every kid wants to be an archaeologist because Dr. Indianna Jones has a whip.

Botanists grows plants. So does my driveway, and I don’t even want it to. Surely botany isn’t glamorous? No, but Uma Thurman is. Botany’s anwer: Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley, aka Poison Ivy.



Biology. Surely, surely, surely, we have more streetcred than biology (showing our dominance on a monthly basis is starting to get a little boring).

But... we have been defeated

... by default.

Biology has a champion, and what a champion: Steve Irwin.



Shortly before his death, he was to be named an adjunct professor at the University of Queensland's School of Integrative Biology. He was awarded the professorship posthumously by the Uni. Damn. Biology cheated and bagged themselves a legend!

So what has Chemistry got? I’ve been trawling, trawling and trawling, and I’ve found these chemical gladiators to fight in our corner in the scientific arena.







My word, that was terrible. Did you see the shirt that guy was wearing?

Personally, explosions and multicoloured flames were the sirens that called me towards chemistry’s shore. Still, it would be nice if one of our brethren could be the hero for a change and not always land the roles of the mad professor making the next doomsday device, or the chemical-induced schizophrenic kidnapping damsels in distress.



And that, finally, brings me back full circle...
 
Physics has gone one step further than Hollywood glam. Sure, you’ve got the raw power and rage vented by the Hulk, but with physics, it controls both beauty and the beast. For while it has the power to smash, it also has the power to seduce, not through the dark side of the force, but through the luxury which is Professor Brian Cox’s hair.



Ravishing

How can we cope with that? How on Earth can we hope to entice a generation to follow the profession of Chemistry whilst Professor Brian Cox is in action? The brains of a...erm...professor and the looks of a superstud...hang on. Something has just occurred to me.

It all makes sense now. Professor Brian Cox IS the doppelganger of male supermodel, Derek Zoolander.

Don’t believe me?




That took me ages!

Professor Brian Cox is doing a very good thing for physics, and science as a whole. He’s an approachable Northerner who can speak to anyone. In fact, on the BBC chat show, “Something for the Weekend,” Professor Brian Cox engaged Louise Redknapp in a discussion on particle physics for five entire minutes. Yes, a two-way conversation (sort of). He really is that good.

I want to throw something over to you. Why aren’t chemists ever the heroes? We’re the villains. I’m hoping I’ve overlooked someone, and one of you lot is going to say “What about so-and-so?” And I’ll say, “ohhh yeaaah!” and everything will be right in the world. If not? What can we do about it? Are we to be forced to kidnap Professor Brian Cox and teach him our ways in order for him to become chemistry’s ambassador? Would it work? If Hollywood has taught us anything, it’s that chemistry and beauty...just don’t mix. 



Next month...hopefully some science.

Jacko
www.mark-jackman.com


 

Hello!

In my last post, A Summer Of Sport, I had a little dig at our biologist friends, implying, or rather stating that all they do is hug and sing songs. This sparked a few debates over the forthcoming weeks. I say debates, but what I really mean is that I was on the wrong end of a few death threats. So I guess I have an apology to make.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to make one.

Instead, I’m going to back my claims up with facts and figures. I say facts and figures, but what I really mean is bias and bigotry.

Now, first of all, let me begin with why chemists don't hug and sing songs: It is because we are cool (relatively).

A few science headlines caught my eye over the last week or so, and, as a result, I used the word “cool.” Not sure if I’m too old to use it, but I said it anyway. It’s important to me that "science" and "cool" are used in the same sentences, or at least adjacent ones. I love being able to tell my friends who know nothing about science about the latest experiments, stories and adventures that you clever lot have been up to. Makes me feel a little proud. I say proud, but what I really mean is intellectually superior.

Here are a couple of stories from July:

Researchers Investigate Effects of Lightning Strikes on Aircraft

Dr Igor Golosny of Southhampton Uni is spending three years attacking carbon fibre composites with lightning. Cool. The reason for this is because layers of graphite bonded by epoxy resin is anisotropic. Of course, as a scientist, I didn’t need Wikipedia to tell me that anisotropic means: demonstrating different physical properties depending on the direction of measurement (I used Free Dictionary instead). Use of CPCs over more conventional aluminium alloys are becoming increasingly popular in aircraft design, but they are more susceptible to damage from lightning as they are not as good electrical and thermal conductors as aluminium. Dr Golosny is going to find out how they are damaged and how they can repair them, but ultimately he is going to do this:

  to planes.

Cool.

Scientists Developing World’s Most Powerful Energy Storing Battery

We ain’t talking a Duracell bunny on steroids here.


Oh no, you have to go nuclear to store more energy than this xenon diflouride and diamond contraption developed by Choong-Shik Yoo of Washington State University. Normally, the molecules in xenon difluoride stay relatively far apart, but squeezing them in a diamond anvil cell forces the molecules closer together. When the pressure reaches a million atmospheres (the equivalent pressure is found halfway to the center of the Earth—cool), the molecules form 3D metallic network structures. This forces all the mechanical energy of the compression process into the storage of chemical energy within the molecular bonds.

Just think, with this sort of power it may be possible to charge an iPhone for an entire day’s use. Cool.

So what’s wrong with biology?

This was a headline on the BBC a little while back.

Monster colossal squid is slow not fearsome predator

“The colossal squid, a creature once linked to maritime myth and feared as a sea monster, is really a slow drifting animal that ambushes unwitting prey.”

In my chemistry examples above, it is easy to see how cool the subject really is. Just imagine carbon fibre jet fighters attacking Emperor Palpatine who is defending himself with force lightning, whilst speaking to his mum on his iPhone knowing full well that it isn’t going to run out of battery just because he was on Facebook for five minutes earlier in the day.

My biological example, however, can only yield disappointment in everyone, even the Gods.

 

“Release the Kraken!”

The biologist in charge of caring for the Kraken scratches his head. “Erm, why, sire?”

“To bring destruction to the people of Argos for their disrespect of my power!” cried mighty Zeus.

The biologist scratched his head. “And you want to release Gavin?”

Zeus raised a brow. “Gavin?”

The biologist nodded. “It’s what I named the Kraken, sire.”

Zeus raised his other eyebrow.

The biologist had the decency to look a little embarrassed at the forthcoming silence. “Gavin isn’t really into high-speed attacks. He’s more into sitting around and waiting for a big fish to float by, before he goes in for the kill.”

“But he’s a legendary giant sea monster?”

“Yes, but Gavin has a daily energy consumption about five hundred times lower than those of other similar-sized giant sea monsters. One 5 Kg Antartic Toothfish provides enough nourishment for Gavin for up to 200 days.”

And Zeus did rightly smite the biologist.

This was work carried out at the University of Lisbon and the University of Rhode Island (the research, not the terrible remake of Clash of the Titans). I admit, it is interesting, but aren’t the results really disappointing? I want to see giant squids attacking ships and fighting Godzilla, not doing, well, pretty much nothing. They could have at least found one and poked it with a stick to see what happened.

Conclusion: Chemistry is cooler than biology.

Tune in next week to find out why physicists can’t handle their drink.

Jacko

Well guys, what a summer for sport!

Wonder how many readers I just lost there?

Oh well, I’ll press on. The World Cup is in full swing, and even though the vuvuzelas have destroyed what little atmosphere remains after a lot of dull matches, it still justifies the unhealthy consumption of alcohol on a school night. As I write this, England are about to play Algeria and remind me why losing, and the love of it, is genetic. The US Open is underway and the British boys are doing well. I’m not hopeful of a victory, but, as I said, as an England fan I secretly relish defeat.  Then we’ve got the British Open and Wimbledon to look forward to, as well. Not even a male English representative at Wimbledon (first time in 133 years). Makes me proud (any pro-Andy Murray comments will be printed out and burned). 

So what’s all this got to do with Chemistry, you ask? Absolutely nothing would be the answer from the man on the street, but to a scientist, and one in love with the subject of matter, then I’d say EVERYTHING!

OK, well, not much really.

At the moment, I’m based in Loughborough and the university is a centre of excellence when it comes to sport. Sports...Science? I never thought that the line from the classic 80s kid’s TV series, Jossy’s Giants, “Football’s just a branch of science,” would one day be taken literally.



But then I never thought that youngsters would rack up 20,000 pounds worth of debt to study a seven year course in "Leisure, Tourism and Xbox studies" at Great Yarmouth University, either.



Graduation Day!

Back to the point, chemistry is a real driver behind sport, more so than the other sciences. Sports scientists analyse the latest sporting equipment, the materials of which were designed by us. Physicists stick things in wind tunnels and then look smug for the cameras of regional news teams. As for biologists, as far as I know, all they do is cuddle and sing songs.

Chemistry is the bad boy in the world of sport. In Seoul, 1988, chemistry had the power to send Ben Johnson supersonic, and even though the idea of chemically enhanced supermutants running the 100 metres in 3.5 seconds fills me with morbid curiosity, it isn't really an improvement, is it?

But it's not just sports enhancing drugs...

Ian Woosnam is a small golfing troll. Although some deluded folk believe him to be part human (I love Woosie).



Woosie’s as wide as he is tall and could always biff a golf ball a country mile. In fact, in his heyday, twenty-odd years ago, he was the second longest hitter on tour. Now, he’s getting on a bit, and lives mostly under a bridge, but when he does venture out on to the course he’s all the way back at around 300^th for driving distance. Here’s the thing: these days, he hits it further.

Shafts of clubs have changed from steel to graphite, and the heads of clubs have advanced from hickory to composites such as beryllium copper, zinc, tungsten and aluminium alloys. The advancements in materials and the improvement in golf ball design (the biggest difference according to the pros) has improved so dramatically, that the game has changed, and course designers are forced to add literally a thousand yards to most courses to make them challenging for our millionaire sportsmen.

Some argue that tennis has been ruined by improvements in technology and the ability to hit winners from anywhere on the court with racquets of mass destruction. Equipment has developed along similar lines to golf, with the traditional racquet being made of wood. Aluminium came along next and a combination of graphite and a graphite and tungsten hybrid are the most popular at the moment.

Football has been attacked by science too. Glove design has changed the game. Goalkeepers, with the help of material scientists, are able to completely trust their grip when they get their hand to the ball.



Quite.

Bottom line is: scientists are meddlers. We don’t just want to know why things happen? We want to mess with stuff and then see what happens. We’re devilish creatures. Perhaps it’s because, as scientists, sport is beyond our nerdy capabilities. We offer help, but secretly we want to ruin sport because of all the times we got nutmegged, playing footy in P.E. Has improved equipment ruined the skill in some sports? Personally, I don't think so. A sportsman competes against their peers, who have access to the same equipment. It makes it harder to compare today's athletes to those of yesteryear, but I believe that you can only judge a sportsman, or anything, for that matter, against the competition of the era.

I guess we’re not all bad (I'm starting to think that maybe it’s just me who is bitter and twisted). Our input has saved the lives of countless racing drivers through the improvements in car safety. We’ve developed lighter, stronger materials to protect maniacs bombing down mountains on planks of wood at 90 m.p.h (see April Chemistry World, The Last Retort for some skiing science). We’ve even developed ways of dealing with the 14.5 tonnes of annual rubber waste that accumulates from unwanted tennis balls.

So yeah, we’re the true heroes behind sport…..

I just wish I was good at it :(

Jacko

Uploading this the afternoon after the England match. Feeling a little disgusted, right now. The only good thing that come out of it was that my mate pointed out Fabio Capello looks like Heston Blumenthal with a wig on.
 

For the first time in my life I’m about to write something topical. Yep, even though I still think those black plastic jackets with the panther on the back are cool; James Bond was at its best when Roger Moore was on board; and that bumbags aren’t stupid, they’re useful; I’m honestly about to get with it, hip with the kids and all that. I want to write something about today’s news, which is relevant too (a second first, for me). Long may it continue!

I was halfway through writing a MyRSC blog when I caught a Tweet from New Scientist (Twitter: more being hip with the kids) which flashed up a link to their “The S Word” blog, “The Science of Politics – and vice versa.” David Willets is our new science minister, and the article detailed his first press briefing. Here’s a link.

"We've just been discussing in Cabinet the difficult decisions we face, and have ordered a Cabinet review of public spending over the next three years. I understand the value of science, but scientists will understand there's a cash constraint on what the British government can afford."

I’m not here to talk politics, no. However, what I am here to do is suggest some ways that we can make cuts in the science budget without impacting on our research quality. Now, you may disagree with some of my plans - and I’d love to hear if you do - but then you may not be as savvy with money as I am (I still tape songs off the radio).

Here are just a few of my ideas:
 
1) No Repeat, No Surrender

No more bandying around terms such as “good practise” or nonsense like that. No way. Whatever our results, we run with them. The word “duplicate” is a scientist’s enemy. What happens if you get different answers? I’ll tell you what: more work. No, from now on, we’re going to play the hand we’re dealt.

“Your new wonderdrug - you only tested it on one person: someone you 'met down the greyhound track.'”
Yeah, so what?

“And your results...erm...there’s just a statement from the man from the track saying your drug is...‘definitely in his top three.’”
So what? You calling him a liar?

“Have you any statistics to back up your data?”
Statistics? Bah! 43.7 % of statistics are made up.

“None of your results make sense!”
Back off, man. I’m a scientist.
 

2) Never Fail

What’s the point of doing an experiment if it isn’t going to work? Scientists have had it easy for far too long, playing in their labs with their rubbish experiments. If it isn’t going to work, then don’t do it! It’s as simple as that. The definition of research is: “To study (something) thoroughly so as to present in a detailed, accurate manner.” Oh...right, we need to change the definition for a start and then stop investing in biology and start investing in hindsight.
 

3) Show me the money!

Science is where all the big earners roll. It makes me sick to think that at school, a budding scientist has to spend twelve years enduring beatings and wedgies in order to obtain decent qualifications to get them through to college. Then, they have to study for another two years to get to university, paying thousands of pounds for the privilege. Some slog their guts out for three or four years to become a PhD, and some go even further to undertake post-docs. Can you believe that these people study for twenty-two years to become world experts in a subject, helping to drive the human race forward and then -get this- they expect to be paid for it? The audacity!

Personally, it’s the celebrities I feel sorry for. Stacey Solomon sung twelve songs on route to becoming a millionaire. She is a shining light to the children of today, who can’t be bothered to learn anything and can only spell in text speak. Why should she be taxed more heavily when it is the greedy scientist who takes all the money? And as for footballers - when scientists were in their air-conditioned classrooms, learning their simple trade, the heroes of the modern age were out in the cold and rain, playing with a ball. Scientists should feel ashamed of their monthly pay packet when it takes those poor professional gladiators nearly half an hour to earn such a princely sum.
 

Two great heroes.

4) Training? What for?

Twenty-two years is a long time to study and there’s a lot of money invested in the process. If we cut the training needed to become a scientist, then we can get people into the jobs at a younger age, with fewer qualifications. If you’re old enough to drive, you’re old enough to run a particle accelerator. After all, the principle is the same, or rather it will be once we substitute the quantum mechanics lecture notes for the Haynes Manual for a Ford Cortina.  
 

5) Elements are Expensive

Controversial, but effective; we could cut the periodic table in half (moving gold down the list as we don’t want to upset the bankers – Last year, the poor mites didn’t even get a bonus). You never really see the later elements in the news, anyway. This would have the added benefit of saving paper as the table could be printed on to a smaller sheet, and therefore save the environment. Ultimately, this venture could prevent global warming, which will be forgotten about anyway as now we can’t afford thermometers. No-one will suspect a thing, except polar bears.
 

6) Reality TV

Big Brother comes to an end this summer, and I can’t think of a better programme to plug that hole other than another reality television show. There just aren’t enough of them. A science reality show ticks every box. It will build public interest in science; it will raise funds through phone line votes; and the winner can be awarded with a science degree or a day-time TV show about animals doing stuff.

“Day 57 in the Big Brother Lab. As punishment for telling Danny that he was pushing his curly arrows in the wrong direction, Cynthia has had all her safety equipment confiscated for one week. If she does not open this vial of osmium tetroxide in three minutes, the labmates will fail this week’s task and be limited to only one hour’s fumecupboard ventilation, a day, for the following week.”

Fingers crossed for the future, friends. Anyone got any ideas how we can save/make money?

Jacko

p.s. If anyone is on Twitter, by the way, it would be good to say hello. Me: Mark_Jackman

p.p.s. Oh, and if you’d like to hire me as a streamlining consultant for your business...

Pictures: Stacey Solomon: JamesLGardner. Albert Einstein: John Terry: Ferdinand Schmutzer. John Terry: Paulblank (All wikipedia, with permission)

This is my first blog on the MyRSC site, so best to start with an introduction. All the formalities I'll leave to my profile, and for you to read at your leisure, but to sum things up. I'm Mark and I'm an analytical chemist in the pharma industry. I enjoy writing. I've written a few fiction novels and like to blog regularly. I thought I'd combine writing and science by starting a new blog on MyRSC. My own blog is a rather eclectic mix, but I'm going to try and stick to a fairly linear path here (I've got no chance). I want to write about the public's perception of us, as scientists, as I find it as amusing as I do interesting.
 
I always admired scientists when I was a nipper. I used to think that scientists were the smartest people, in the world...ever. I guess that's part of the reason I became one. It was either that or the vast quantities of money associated with the profession. When I became a scientist, I was soon to discover that the money, the fast cars and the Rolexes were not the toys of the guy or gal on the bench, and it's professional footballers who rake it in. If only someone had told me sooner, I would have endeavoured not to be picked last in P.E., every week. I quickly discovered that being given the title of "scientist" doesn't necessarily make one clever. No, that's not quite right. What I mean is, when I was given the title of scientist, it didn't make me less stupid.
 
Sure, I could push a curly arrow in the right direction and recite pi to two decimal places, but that didn't really help me where it mattered...down the pub. Pub quiz machines are my downfall. If you're a scientist, people expect you to know EVERYTHING!
 
"OI, JACKO, YOU'RE A SCIENTIST, AIN'T YA?" That's when I know I'm in trouble.
"Why yes, of course," I say on instinct, before damning my ego. I know what's coming.
"Quick, you've got twenty seconds. "What's the fastest warp speed the Starship Enterprise ever reached?"
"Eh? That's science fiction!"
"Ten seconds..."
"Errr... eighty-eight miles per hour."
"14.1."
"Oh," say I, ignoring the disappointed faces. I proceed to listen to the spectating crowd answer questions on sport, films, general knowledge and the like, before all eyes, once more, turn to the "smart kid."
"Jackman!"
"Oh no."
"How much did the heaviest human brain ever recorded, weigh?"
"You're kidding me?"
"Well it ain't his," shouts a voice from the back of the room.
"I heard that!"
"Quick, Jackman!"
"What are my options?"
"Out of time. 2.3 Kg."
"Damnit!" shout I. Onlookers aren't disappointed; they're a little embarrassed.
"Did you learn anything at university?"
"Of course I did, I..."
"Anything useful?"
"How dare you!"
"One more..."
"Oh no." I just want to be left alone.
"You did chemistry, right?"
"Yeah, ask me something about actual chemistry and I'll be fine."
"What's the elemental symbol for tungsten?"
"Erm...Tu?"
"No, it's W."
"Oh yeah, I always got that one wrong as it starts with a T but the symbol is a W. Crazy, huh?"
"I've just lost two quid on your degree."
"That's nothing; it cost me twelve grand!"
 
Oh well, there's more to life than pub quiz machines and impressing your mates down the pub...I guess, actually...is there? Answers on a postcard.
 
Jacko