Archive for the ‘oh dear’ Category


The best of old worlds


Using a process of infallible futuristic pontification, Ulysse Nardin has decided that their undoubted expertise in painstakingly crafting impressive mechanical timepieces is, in any way, transferable to the cut-throat business of rapidly obsoleted software-heavy gadgets.

The Chairman awaits

As such, they’ve added an automatic watch-winding mechanism to a gold-plated Android phone, allegedly to help charge the battery. Which will definitely work once we have phones that sip power as genteelly as, say, a fine Swiss watch.

Also, they’ve put a watch crown on the side, I’m guessing to adjust the digitally displayed expensive Swiss watch that the underlying phone isn’t. So there’s that.

Still, if adding durable, hand-crafted technology is an enhancement for a soon-to-be-out-of-date mobile phone, then I can’t help thinking they should have done more.

For example, they could also have included an inkless Mont Blanc fountain pen for entering text, and maybe a key from a classic Bentley to lock the screen, so your servants can’t snigger at your hand-written tweets.

(via Engadget)




I just paid our BT phone bill by phone, and encountered a delightfully daft variation on the usual to waste more time, press star eleven interface.

I was offered four choices, and was told that, for something, I should “press one“, for something else, I should “choose two“, for another thing “it’s three“, otherwise, I should “press four“.

It must be the case that someone, somewhere, has deliberately decided to vary the verb for menu choices away from press each time, but I’ll bet a ha’penny bun to a pound of dried bananas that there is no solid empirical research backing this oddness up.

The use of “it’s three” is particularly jarring, I think, prompting the question: “it’s three what?

But, of course, after selecting the “pay my bill” option, I was dumped into the usual please enter this information, no, we won’t tell you what format, no you shouldn’t press hash (except here) interface, which was strangely comforting in its familiar awkwardness.