The Evolution of Robot Wars

Holidays, when devoid of sporting showcases, are apparently not conducive to blogging inspiration. However, I need to write about something, so why not the third most entertaining show on television at the moment: Robot Wars. (fyi, Sherlock and Shooting Stars are first and second respectively.)

The compeitors are frequently cringe inducing (Plunderbird boys - you are not funny, get lost), as is Craig Charles' leery demeanour, but the fun in seeing pathetic lumps of metal getting shredded, crushed and flipped by a core of five or six really decent machines remains undimmed.

Over the five series natural selection has seen four design staples rise to the top of the pack, each with a robot of excellent design as the epitome of that class. These are: Chaos 2, Hypnodisc, Razer and Tornado, armed with a flipper, scorpion claw, fly-wheel and raw pushing-power respectively. These four are in essence unbeatable by the vast majority of the competition, barring mechanical defects.

Chaos 2 was the first to have a really effective flipper, pioneered originally by Cassius. The first time Cassius jack-knifed after being overturned was a watershed moment in the history of Robot Wars; not only could it flip other robots but it was also impervious to being itselt flipped. Any robot with serious ambitions would need to be able to self right, and while the flipper was not the only means of self-righting - interesting scrimechs can been seen on the aforementioned Hypno-Disc and Razer - it remains the original and most effective. The third series was dominated by Chaos 2, which perfected the flipper, which differed from Cassius in that it was forward facing active flip rather than a push.

Tornado was essentially a response to the flipper; scrimechs are great and look good, but why not make the robot invertible? It was by no means the most attractive robot, with the simple yet effective tactic of relentless bulldozing, but it worked, defeating Chaos 2 at least twice through sheer bloody-mindedness. It had very few weaknesses: unflipable, robust and had unmatched pushing-power thanks to two engines and rubber tread. There was one robot that could beat it, and beat it easily, however.

Razer was unquestionably the most aesthetically arresting while being the most destructive. The hydraulic beak immoblilised more robots than any other, and for a long time it only ever lost through electical or mechanical issues. Had it not beached itself in the second round of the heats in the third series vs Aggrobot, Chaos 2 may well have finished as runner-up. As it happened, Razer and Chaos 2 only met several years later, and Razer quickly punctured the CO2 cannister of Chaos, causing it to commit the first ever Robot Wars suicide by diving arse-first into the pit. It wasn't invincible, though. Pussycat defeated it twice, once when Razer got stuck on the wall and a second time when it popped a wheel off. Later, Tornado fixed a protective cage around itself to specifically neutralise the claw of Razer; Razer could do nothing and lost to a judges' decision. It was within the rules, but hardly fair play.

Lastly we come to Hypnodisc. It has a poor record against these other three, but when it comes to fucking shit up, Hypnodisc is unparalleled. The first victim, Robogeddon, faced the most complete destruction of any robot, ever. The bodywork was gone, the insides ripped out, the battery destroyed...there was nothing left. Its design is simple: a disc spins at only a reasonably fast speed, but the sheer size of it means the two lumps are going very quickly indeed. It is in essence a bludgeoning device as opposed to the standard slicing circular saw.

39 Seconds

39 seconds: the timegap between Alberto Contador and Andy Schleck after the final competitive stage of the Tour de France. It's the second narrowest margin in history after the great LeMond/Fignon struggle in '89, but the significance of those 39 seconds is far greater than that.

Contador attacked on the Port de Bales earlier in the Tour following a freak mechanical problem on Andy Schleck, and gained - you guessed it - 39 seconds. It cannot be certain that Schleck's attack would have succeeded, in fact he lost time on the descent while pursuing Contador, but he would at least have finished at the same time, hypothetically preserving Schleck's 31 seconds lead.

Many predicted that the result at Bagnères-de-Luchon would decide the outcome of Tour, and how right they were. Had Contador refrained from attacking we could have seen a dead heat for the first time ever; I have absolutely no idea what protocol would be followed had that been the case. Enough has been said about Contador's decision to attack so I won't add anything other than retrospectively as a race-winning move it was justified, but also deprived us of a truly epic battle up the Col du Tourmalet.

The other surprise was how poorly Contador performed in the time-trial, finishing in the mid-30s, just 31 seconds ahead of the typically far weaker Schleck. When compared to last year's penultimate day time-trial - which Contador won ahead of Fabian Cancellara - a drastic collapse in physical power is evident. There is no chance of an accurate analysis of the reasons for this, but I suspect Contador was simply shattered after a Tour de France in which he was pushed all the way. Interestingly, Schleck actually lost less time over 50km than over the 10km prologue: 31s vs 42s.

So many ifs and buts! It's been engrossing, but hopefully 2011 will end in more satisfactory fashion.

PS Probably the last TdF blog until next year.

Everything Everything

It's only about twice a year that I hear a new band on the radio that makes me stop and listen on the back of artistic merit - think Florence last year and Band of Skulls earlier this - but it happened again yesterday. Everything Everything are a really bizarre-sounding band, with so many changes of direction within each song that it will leave you giddy. Because of this they have been slapped with the unfashionable lable of 'prog-rock', but there are few parallels with Pink Floyd, Genesis and Yes.

There's an altogether more tangible sense of joyful exuberance (writing that sentence I realised BMW have killed the word 'joy' for me). Everything Everything tread the fine line between the pretentiousness and over-indulgence seen in Genesis and Yes and genuinely intelligent music writing. The vocal harmonies are intricate but never less than poppy, though the frequent falsetto is beginning to grate slightly after listening to their first four tracks. Hopefully it will be reigned in slightly come the album release in late August this year.

These first four songs are on YouTube, and linked below. It's a close contest between Suffragette Suffragette and Photoshop Handsome for title of Best on Show, but the track heard on the radio - MY KZ UR BF (MyKeys, Your Boyfriend) isn't far off. Schoolin' is comfortably the worst of the bunch, though perversely has been released as the first official single. I expect big things from these boys, musically if perhaps not commercially.

Suffragette Suffragette

Photoshop Handsome

MY KZ UR BF

Schoolin'

A Gulf In Class

On the fearsome slopes of the Col du Tourmalet Andy Schleck destroyed a coalition of the six subsequently placed rides, putting 1'45" into them. This was a break of astounding force; regular rotation of the poursouviants eases individual load considerably, yet Schleck powered away from big names such as Sanchez and Menchev into the thick fog.

However, the one man he failed to break was the very one he most wanted to: Alberto Contador. Albert the Accountant's eight second lead looks slender, but when his vastly superior time-trialling ability is taken into account it is obvious that Schleck needed to make up far more than eight seconds. Contador clung limpet-like to his competitors back wheel, conserving his energy, doing the minimum necessary to hold his position in both stage and GC. Intrestingly, then, that when Contador made his move in his usual devastating style Schleck was able to follow. Thwarted, Contador once more retreated to Schleck's back wheel, settling for negating his ever-weaker attacks.

The parallels with the famous duel between Jaques Anquetil and Raymond Poulidor on the Puy de Dôme are worth looking at. In both instances the second placed rider took the stage win - Poulidor in 1964. Both times the two riders had broken off the front of the peloton and were riding alone, but Anquetil arrogance exceeded Contadors: he wanted to beat his great rival despite having a similarly slender lead as Contadors. By the summit of the Puy de Dôme Anquetil was only fourteen seconds ahead. Anquetil's lead was extended to 55 seconds by the end of the penultimate stage's time-triall, and we could well see a repeat of that on Saturday.

The struggle up the Tourmalet was hugely engrossing, but at the same time it feels like we have been deprived of a direct fight for victory between these two great cyclists. Schleck gained ten seconds on the short climb to Morzine-Avoriaz; Contador wrestled ten seconds back up to Monde. Had Schleck's chain not inexplicably snagged immediately following his attack on the Port de Balès perhaps we could have seen it then, but alas Lady Luck intervened.

What we can be sure of is that next year's edition will be even closer. Last year Contador won by four minutes; this year it will be no more than two; next year, who knows? The route this year, despite its punishing difficulty, was brilliantly thought-out by Mr Prudhomme and will hopefully give him to confidence to try something equally mountaneous. We could have just seen the second stage of one of the great rivalries of sport, and Prudhomme would be a fool to resist allowing it to develop further.

Spain pass off boring as beautiful.

For all the intricate passing, the tiki-taka, the 'merry-go round', Spain are a very dull team to watch. They are beloved of footballing 'purists', but the reality is that Spain are a negative team. They drain the life out of the opposition with endless intricate yet impotent passing; it looks good, but it is certainly intended to prevent the opposition from playing, rather than out-attacking them.

I do not deny that Spain are a good team. They beat a superb Germany team that despatched England and Argentina with ease, but perversely they are not what we have comee to expect from Spain. They have but once scored more than one goal in a match, against Chile, which speaks volumes about their reluctance to commit. Starved of possession, opponents are forced to counter-attack which are broken up easily by an efficent Spanish back line. They have the quality to score, and they know it, biding their time until David Villa takes advantage and scores; they then revert to possession football, draining the life out of viewers as adeptly as they do their adversaries.

Spain will win the final on Sunday, probably 1-0, and it will be boring. The Netherlands will pour forward when they can, but bar a replication on Van Bronckhorst's blockbuster of a strike against Uruguay, they won't find a way through. The best team will win it, but they will lose a lot of admires along the way.

EDIT: Barney Ronay from the Guardian basically wrote this article, but better, so you may as well read this instead.

Tour De France

I bloody love this race. Just as it seemed over for my favourites just as it had begun, they are now back in contention. Andy Schleck looked out of it after the prologue, conspiring to lose 45 seconds to the likely winner, Contador. Wiggins did nearly badly losing somewhere near 30s. It doesn't seem like much, but Contador's time-trialling ability, so often a crucial factor, vastly exceeds that of Schleck and is superior even to Wiggins, an excellent individual rider, as showcased by his efforts in Beijing.

Aided by a well-timed, but ultimately race-ending, crash by his brother Frank, the monumental efforts of Fabian Cancellara, and the famed cobblestone roads of northern France, Schleck was able to keep with the elite leading group of 6, all of which were champions of some kind, and reclaimed a minute over Contador and even more over Lance Armstrong. Without Frank he is weakened in the mountains, but Contador has been off-key is recent months as well; a fascinating battle will hopefully evolve between the two. As for Wiggins, he was in the Contador group until the latter inexplicably dropped off the back end with less than a kilometre to go. The gains are far less than the minute gained by Schleck but at the same time he had less to claw back.

To cap it all was the second place finish by Geraint Thomas, the 24-year-old Welshman, which, thanks to a fifth place in the prologue, puts him in second overall, and into the white jersey.

The Untouchables

I was under the impression that this was a Great Film. It seems a good number of people hold this ill-informed belief as well: it has an 81% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. However, The Untouchables definately is not a Great Film. While there are undeniably sporadic strong features, such as impressive, artful-shot locations, the remainder is basically bad.

The Untouchables initially presents itself as a historical crime thriller, which it succeeds at in a hammy, inconsistent sort of way, but by the end De Palma allows it to descend into a poorly thought out action film, with some unforgiveably unrealistic death-scenes. This sudden change in direction is disconcerting; a tack-on in an attempt to jolt some excitement into an otherwise boring film, and it shows. There are other baffling attempts at drumming up some tension, for instance the weird first-person camerawork which was basically poorly executed.

De Palma makes it abundantly clear that Eliot Ness is a do-gooder through and through. He never waivers in upholding the law, never a flawed hero, and is contrasted heavily with the caricature that is Al Capone, played poorly by Robert de Niro. He doesn't seem to be trying; his performance is just like so many of his other Italian mob characters, albeit more poorly written. De Niro isn't the only poor actor, either.

How Sean Connery was ever Oscar-nominated for his performance as Malone, I'll never know. His accent was justifiably ranked by Empire as the worst ever in film, beating such renowed accents as Dick Van Dyke and, er, Kevin Costner in Robin Hood, who incidentally stars as Eliott Ness.

 There are few redeeming features. I've mentioned already the beautiful wide shots, particularly of the Chicago streets and there are some powerful moments, such as the 'TOUCHABLE' scene, but these fall short of papering over the gaping cracks. Poor preformances, poor direction and poor use of source material make this a flop.

2/5