It brought to mind a similar question I’d posed earlier: what would be an acceptable bonus for the CEO of a UK bank? In both cases, anything positive causes some degree of outcry.

But more importantly, it brought me back to an argument I’ve discussed many a time. What is the acceptable cost of safety?

Some people I speak to believe every accident is preventable and should be prevented. This, to me, is a ludicrous statement. Just as no IT system can guarantee 100% uptime, no mode of transport can guarantee that accidents will never happen.

Safety in any mode of transport can be improved. But with improvement comes cost. For many modes of transport, that cost is passed on to the customer directly.

The Boeing 747 has 0.71 crashes involving one or more deaths for every million flights (across all of its 19m flights). (As an side, the Airbus 320 range is the safest of the big players—those with over 10m flights—with only 0.10 such crashes per million flights.)

That 0.71 can be reduced. Further security checks can be introduced at airports to reduce the incidence of bombs and hijackers on board. A worldwide ban could be introduced on flying through turbulent air. The entirety of each aircraft could be checked thoroughly before each flight, and any parts showing the slightest degradation could prompt their immediate replacement.

In reducing that figure to 0.35, say, the cost of a return ticket from London to New York might increase from £400 to £4,000. A further reduction to 0.18 might increase it further to £40,000. These numbers are made up, but the order of magnitude increases are probably not far off the mark.

Those people calling for the safety improvements might cut back on their transatlantic jaunts when they hear of the associated cost hike. Indeed transatlantic flight would disappear overnight—one way of guaranteeing 100% safety, I guess.

When airlines talk of safety being of the utmost importance, they generally mean this within certain market constraints.

The cost of cycling is different. Instead of cyclists paying directly for their journeys, everyone pays for their facilities through taxation. Assuming 500,000 cyclists (there are 480,000 daily journeys, apparently), and ignoring the cost of the original road construction, the Cycle Superhighways would have cost each cyclist approximately £120. I’m guessing that they would not have been willing to pay for this, nor would they be willing to pay directly to implement further safety improvements.

If it costs more per death saved than it would cost the NHS to save a life, should the money be diverted instead to the NHS? (A reminder of the trolley problem: should you actively sacrifice someone’s life if you know it will save five other people’s lives?)

Sixteen cyclists were killed on London’s roads in 2011. The highest such figure was 33 in 1989, the lowest: eight in 2004. What is an acceptable number? And what is the acceptable cost of achieving that?

If memory serves me, the accident occurred near the junction of Rhodesway and Allerton Road in the Thornton area of Bradford. There was a small shunt, details were exchanged and the two cars involved went merrily on their way.

In the bureaucratic process that followed, a claim was made by the third party for injuries allegedly sustained by more people than were occupying his car at the time of the accident. With no witnesses, it was my mum’s word against his, and I believe his claim was upheld.

Last year, my friend Steve was also involved in an accident. There was heavy braking on the motorway in front of his car. Steve braked in time to stop behind the car ahead of him. The car behind him followed suit. But the car behind that car couldn’t stop in time. So it shunted the car behind Steve, which in turn was pushed forward, and nudged Steve’s rear bumper.

There was some very minor paint damage, but nothing worth worrying over. Steve duly informed his insurance company, not to claim but out of a worry of getting proverbially shafted if they found out about the accident at a later date. And nothing more was said.

Actually, that last sentence isn’t quite true.

The insurance company asked whether he or his two kids that were in the back seat had been injured. He confirmed that they hadn’t, informing the lady on the phone that the impact had been at such an infinitesimally low velocity that they were barely even aware of the impact.

Not one to trust the laws of physics, she badgered Steve throughout the call about the possibility of injury to any one, nay all, of the three occupants, suggesting that the symptoms might set in a few days after the event. By the end of the call, Steve was perplexed by the seeming idiocy of the woman.

You see, the insurance world is in a downward moral spiral, and has been for the last 20 years and more. Individuals are more litigious than they ever were, partly because of the rise of the large company (more on that another time). And insurance companies like to play the game. As well as figuratively raping people for their insurance premiums, they make money at the time of a claim by selling the data of those allegedly affected by the accident to morally bankrupt companies. They in turn will do their level best to lodge a falsified claim, winning money for their client and sending the insurance premiums of the third party through the roof. Everyone’s a winner!

Steve has morals, and so didn’t let the promise of cash affect his better judgment. Thousands of others will be either less morally scrupulous or more in need of a cash injection (or both), and will take the evil lady up on her kind of gaining cash for fake injuries.

The government is trying to tighten up on the passing on of such data by insurance companies. But I expect that the behaviour has now been seeded in the market, and such legislation will pass the onus on to the consumer, who will gladly take responsibility for pursuing their own nefarious claims.

For those not aware of their story, readers of a faint heart and those with a nervous disposition may want to stop reading here. Certainly anyone under the age of 18 should not read beyond this point.

The Jones family’s Christmas was wrecked by the son’s discovery of an insensitive question within one of the crackers they’d bought from Wilkinson (mistakenly referred to in the article as Wilkinsons). It asked them to name the twin skyscrapers, 1,361 feet high, that are the tallest buildings in New York.

At first, I thought their devastation was caused by the inaccuracy of the fact. The answer to the question was clearly 1 & 2 World Trade Center, yet prior to their demise, 1 WTC stood at 1,368 feet in height, while 2 WTC stood at 1,362 feet.

It later became clear that they were not referring to the inaccuracy of the statistic, but instead to the fact that the towers were destroyed over ten years ago, thus making the albeit inaccurate statistic no longer true.

The image of the Ian Rush–lookalike Tim Jones, clad in pyjamas and holding a partially opened box of Christmas crackers together with the deeply offensive and inaccurate trivia note makes for a sorry picture indeed. He really should have done up an extra button.

His wife, Sheila, was quoted as saying: “I can only assume these crackers are old stock and many years old, printed before the dreadful events of September 11th. I would like an explanation from Wilko.”

Wilkinson has confirmed that an immediate investigation is underway with their suppliers. I expect that Wilkinson will publish a statement to the following effect once that investigation concludes: “These crackers are old stock and many years old, printed before the dreadful events of September 11th.”

Nowadays, we Brits are all too easily “offended”. In truth, the level of offence caused is actually minimal. But by elevating the level of suffering that we went through, we serve two purposes. First, we secure a moment’s fame, albeit at a local level, in this world where fame for the masses has become something that so many people seek. Second, we put ourselves in a position that might gain us a bit of cash by way of compensation for the untold (told) distress caused.

As for the latter reason, the same is true in other walks of life. If you’re uninjured in a car accident, many people are likely to claim injury, partly for their own financial benefit, and partly goaded on by the corrupt insurance business that surrounds the potential claim.

Meanwhile, that the Staffordshire Newsletter deemed this story newsworthy at all is a sad indictment of the state of local media.

Please spare a moment’s thought for the Jones family at this difficult time. The lyrics below were written for people like this.

But say a prayer,
pray for the other ones
At Christmastime it’s hard,
but when you’re having fun
There’s a world outside your window,
and it’s a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing
is the bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there
are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it’s them
instead of you.

Given this state of affairs, I am slightly segregated from my client. I am not “one of them”, which has its benefits and its drawbacks. But given what I’m doing, all in all I think it’s a good thing. Doubtless the benefits of me being able to work out of hours more than outweigh the inconveniences that the segregation brings about.

A member of the client organisation recently commented that I could never be an employee there. When I asked as to why, she said that I was way too informal in my email communication.

I disagreed.

For me, just as with face-to-face communication, there is time for formality and time for informality. And that is not purely dependent on the audience. Just as with talking to people, there are times when you’ll be formal with your friends; and less formal with your colleagues.

The key is to gear your communication style to your audience and subject matter. And to be a bit bold in pushing against formality.

I recently presented to 20-or-so people, the majority of whom I’d never met. I gave an overview of a system, and talked of it “squirting out documents at the other end”. The lady mentioned above was horrified when she saw the deck. But the audience liked the informality. I was talking about an IT system in words that a child might use, stripping away any sense of complexity, focusing purely on the business need that these people had.

If I’d said “printing” or “producing”, the level of engagement in the session might have been less. And if one or two of the audience remembered the use of the word “squirting” half an hour after the session had ended, then it served its purpose.

And I do the same in email. When asked by email today whether something was ready to go live, my response: “You betcha. ” Formalists will argue that this isn’t sufficiently legally binding to sign off upon a requirement, nor is it appropriate for the working environment. I say “tosh”. If any member of your staff tries to argue that the above statement isn’t a ringing endorsement for go-live suitability, then you’re probably best getting rid of them.

You see, one of the reasons few people read their emails is that in the main they’re dull. My hope is that by adding some lightheartedness to otherwise mundane emails, I might at best get someone to read something they otherwise wouldn’t; and at worst I might have brightened someone’s day a smidgeon.

But in reality, I simply hope that people enjoy reading my emails.

I bet that my client organisation hasn’t written any guidelines dictating the manner in which emails should be written. Yes, they will have guidelines about whether email should be used for personal reasons. But I expect there will be nothing about the manner in which “formal” communications are written. Yet people settle into a routine. They follow the lead of their colleagues when they join the organisation.

I hope that by adding some spice, some zest, the odd smiley and a sprinkle of cheeky words, I add a little fun and enjoyment to the workplace.

Whenever someone puts a foot wrong, people are baying for their blood. Ashton Kutcher was a recent victim of this, many of his 9 million followers reacting hatefully to his tweet slamming the firing of Joe Paterno. He clearly didn’t have the context, and withdrew the tweet moments later.

Twitter gives people a medium on which they can readily slam people they don’t know, generally those in the public eye—celebrities and politicians. It allows this to be done in an unregulated way, allows libel and defamation of character, and unless it becomes sufficiently high profile (it rarely does given the limited audience of those tweeting the abuse), doesn’t really provide a workable mechanism for the abused to answer back.

I assume that the laws around defamation of character and libel are as relevant and enforceable on Twitter as they are for other media. But the opening up of the publishing medium to millions of people makes it next to useless. Nobodies will abuse and the Twitter river will continue to flow, with that drop of acid flowing largely unnoticed into the sea of history.

Sometimes criticism is constructive, and I value that. (After all, if all you do is mouth off about Jan Moir without any reasoned argument, you’re no better than Jan herself.)

But in 2012, I’ll be making efforts to avoid those that hate for the sake of hating. Because as well as being destructive to those targeted, such negativity can only be destructive to the reader. Negativity wears off. Let 2012 be the year of inspiration.

As expected, the announcement was met with general disgruntlement as users complained at Mr. Zuckerberg’s allegedly evil ways.

Perhaps the most vociferous response that I saw came from Ben, a friend whose use of Facebook surpasses in volume that of all of my other 241 ‘friends’.

Ben was right on some counts. He thinks Facebook is great because it creates interaction between people, provides freedom of thought and expression. I agree, although the fact that such freedom is less regulated than the content of other online media such as newspapers is open to question. (Why is it OK to defame or be libellous on Facebook but not in online newsprint?)

But Facebook costs money. Every time you upload a new profile picture, that costs money. Every time you update your status or comment on coo over someone’s pregnancy news, that costs money. And every time you chat with your friends, that costs money. I have no idea what the operating costs are of Facebook, but you can bet that their storage costs alone would make many a grown man faint.

Don’t get me wrong, Facebook is not taking this decision purely to fund its operating costs. It is doing so to ensure that it builds a massive money-making machine. But whether it’s to make megabucks or whether it’s to cover its costs, the bottom line is that Facebook needs to bring in money.

And as I see it, there are four funding models that might be considered by Facebook:

• It can, like the BBC, be funded through taxation. This is a non-starter. I for one would be vehemently against the government funding Facebook, either through a specific tax or by contributing from its overall tax take. (This option was thrown in there for completeness, not as something to take seriously.)
• It might be run as a loss-making concern by a super-rich benefactor. This is a wonderful image but a pipe dream. It’s also somewhat short-sighted. The Internet Archive runs that way, but examples like it are few and far between
• It might be funded directly by its users, through a subscription fee. Alas, while people will happily pay nigh-on £1,000 per year for their TV service, I expect that they would baulk at a fraction of that cost imposed by Facebook. User numbers would be decimated, in the truly non-literal sense, and the fallout would be enjoyed by Twitter, Google+ and the next big thing
• Or it might be funded by other organisations.

Facebook has to go down path number four. And the most immediately obvious route to go down is that of advertising.

And I welcome that. As long as I am not duped into buying things that I wasn’t aware I was buying, then I see some advertising as a small price to pay for the value that Facebook brings. And if that advertising becomes too onerous, then I hope that I have sufficient nous to call it a day.

People need to stop seeing the web as something that’s run for free.

Every time an online venture tries to secure money, there is an uprising from its users. When Twitter introduced promoted hashtags, there was an uproar. When the Times newspaper introduced a paywall, there was an uproar. Gmail’s sponsored advertising made many of its users livid. And now Facebook’s expansion of its online advertising programme has prompted a similar response.

But with time, people see that the benefit of using the service outweighs the “cost” of putting up with advertising. And the users will remain. And if they don’t see that benefit, let’s hope they have the gumption to realise this and up and leave.

At 1703, Dom Joly tweeted such:

Very difficult to cater for lowest common denominator on here without the use of line drawings and bibs

Fourteen minutes later, I responded thus:

@domjoly What the hell is a lowest comman denomination? God your protenshius.

It wasn’t my funniest moment. Alan will vouch for that. But it made me chuckle and was appreciated by a few people on Twitter when Mr. Joly retweeted it moments later.

What follows is one of the things that makes Twitter so fabulous: momentum and the “wisdom” of the masses.

First Helen Young chimed in:

@danosirra At least @domjoly can spell though! lol

Next, Daniel Plume.

@danosirra @domjoly Wow.. spelling a strong point. Lowest common denominator is the expression. Pretentious is the spelling.

And Gerald D:

@danosirra You’re a proofreader? Really? Clearly a shite one. @domjoly

And Alan Rob:

@danosirra jheez, you’re illiterate, why bother following @domjoly ?

And Baldy Mitch:

@danosirra @domjoly “When illiterates attack!”

Shelley Hobson tweeted something about me needing to further my education next, but this has since been deleted, likely out of embarrassment.

Four people retweeted me; and one favourited my tweet.

You see, people didn’t get the joke. Which added to the joke’s underlying quality. Mr. Joly’s observation that his followers had the intellectual prowess of toddlers was proven, in one fell bout of retweets and accompanying guffaws.

Now I doubt that Mr. Joly’s 114,599 followers are any more or less stupid than those of your next celebrity. What’s different is the way in which they are exposed. The stupidity of most celebrities’ followers is exposed only to those people they follow. But Mr. Joly’s retweeting of the idiocy exposes it to all of his thousands of followers.

Whether Mr. Joly retweeted me out of amusement at my attempt at a joke, or whether he did so by way of exemplifying his followers’ childlike minds will likely never be known. Nor does it particularly matter. What matters is the abuse that followed, and the idiocy shown by those pointing out my idiocy.

That, I love.

Record sales for John Lewis last week, biggest week ever. #tvworks

This drew a wry retweet from John Willshire of Smithery.

The same must be true for all last week’s ads then?

It’s true. Claiming success of TV advertising for a record sales week two weeks before Christmas is somewhat glib. Imagine the following fictitious tweet from Standard Fireworks on 6 November.

Record sales for Standard last week. Biggest week of the year so far. #tvworks

While the evidence may indeed be there for TV advertising driving John Lewis’s record sales, the implication was that their high sales were wholly a result of the much-lauded TV ad. I expect that most companies tailoring their offerings to the Christmas market have seen increased, indeed record, sales over the last few weeks.

Stripping out seasonality is important, as is stripping out the effect of other media. Otherwise, statements such as these either artificially elevate the impact of TV advertising; or else are treated with the important pinch of salt that they warrant.

I understand what is meant. The meaning, I think, is to embrace certain values that Christianity claims to uphold. And I’m all for that. There are certain values that Britain should strive for and that should help to define its political outlook. Fairness, honesty, equality for all, education as a right, freedom of speech etc. etc.

But why is there a need to put these values under the banner of a religion? Surely by doing so, any concept of equality goes out of the window.

If Britain labelled itself as a white country while “embracing” people of other ethnicities, that would, rightly, be considered wrong. But that is how Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists in Britain etc. must feel at being told that Britain is a Christian country.

So Cameron, embody some values and preach them from the rooftops. But please, please don’t label them with a religion.

I read it at around 0945. And by 1015 I’d posted the British equivalent. (The chart was built in Excel using an xkcd-esque font that I downloaded for the very job.)

The original post showed the 20 most-played Christmas songs (2000–2009 radio airplay) by decade of popular release. Nine of the entries fell in the 1950s and a further seven fell in the 1940s. Of the remaining four, two were in the ’60s, one in the ’70s and one in the ’30s. The most recent song in the chart, Feliz Navidad, was written in 1970, 41 years ago.

The post linked the surge in music with the postwar baby boom, suggesting that Christmases since that boom have merely tried to recreate the Christmases of that time.

I was certain that the UK equivalent chart would look wildly different, so I set out to show this. And wildly different it is. (Click the chart for a bigger version.)

I was expecting the median decade to be the ’70s, but in fact eight of the songs were released in the ’80s, a further six in the ’70s. The earliest charting number was Bing’s White Christmas from 1942, the most recent being the 1994 offerings from Mariah Carey (second best Christmas tune of all time: fact) and East 17.

The UK’s 20 songs are all far more recent, with a mean release year of 1977. (America’s 20 most-played average to 1951, each song being on average over a quarter of a century older than its UK equivalent.)

There is a strong musical tradition at Christmas in the UK, one that I unreservedly love. The Christmas Number One is a big deal (or at least it was until X Factor made it so much more formulaic), and I get the impression that modern Christmas music is far more accepted and expected in the UK than it is in the US.

A lovely piece of analysis by xkcd of the US market. But, if I may say so, a much more lovable piece of analysis by myself of the UK equivalent. Without xkcd, I wouldn’t have thought to do it. But without the wonderful British Christmas music market, I wouldn’t have been able to paint such a fabulous picture.