My mate Dr Lucy Rogers has written a book! This is a charming and thought provoking exploration of everything that goes on above our heads. This isn't an impersonal and imperious manuscript, it's a deeply personal and joyful book filled with science, anecdotes, and the thrill of discovery.

It's spectacularly accessible. Written in a relaxed and casual tone, it encourages domestic science. I don't mean bakery, I mean the sorts of observations you can do at home without access to a multi-million pound laboratory. The afterword of the book contains dozens of resources for people who want to get involved in science. Dr Rogers eloquently makes the case that you don't need to dedicate yourself full time - it's perfectly acceptable to engage with it on your own terms.

What I liked most about it was that she gets her hands dirty. It would have been easy to write a literature review from the comfort of a safe and dry office. Instead we get a travelogue of all the places she's been - each trek through the forest, every laboratory, and all the foreign festivals are brilliantly recounted. It's a proper adventure from America's tornado alley down to the Vatican Archives.

I find it remarkable how slow some modern science is. As she points out, "there have been only eight transits of Venus since the telescope was invented" - our knowledge rests on the shoulders of giants, but they can be slow, lumbering beasts.

If, like me, you only have a hazy memory of the science you learned at school, this book will top up your knowledge (and vocabulary). It will reignite your passion and curiosity about the world around you - and make you want to buy a round the world ticket to chase solar eclipses!

After reading The Wicked of the Earth, I wanted to understand some of the history behind the stories. Why were women⁰ accused of being witches? What really happened in those trials? What are the modern consequences of those events?

This is the story of the Scottish Witch Trials - with brief forays into England and abroad. It examines the central tension of whether witchcraft was real to the accusers, or just a convenient means to oppress troublesome women. The descriptions of the imprisonment, torture, and state-sanctioned murder is visceral and horrific.

It's also rather stark in its modern assessment of the historic context:

Nonetheless, it’s important to remember it was a proper legal trial, with evidence being put forward and the judge assessing it and carrying out legal tests. Some people think that witchcraft trials were carried out by angry peasants waving pitchforks. Perhaps this is a more acceptable way for a modern person to think about it. No one wants to think that a judicial system can get it so wrong. But it did, with catastrophic consequences for those accused.

The book is mostly good, it's a spin off from the Witches Of Scotland podcast and that's reflected in the writing. As with any parasocial¹ entertainment, it attempts to centre the authors and bring the audience along for the ride - so there's lots of descriptions of the libraries the authors visit, how things make them feel, how enamoured they are with their podcast guests. I found it a little distracting, but it's obviously right for their main audience.

Similarly, there's an attempt to bring the past to life by imagining a little monologue from various historic figures. I found that a little unconvincing; I dislike putting words in peoples' mouths. But with sparse primary documentation, that may be the best way to bring these characters to life. It's also well illustrated. Too many books eschew pictures - but this has a nice collection of woodcuts and portraits to contextualise what we're reading about.

One little nitpick, the book makes the claims:

Life was hard and life expectancy was around 35

and

Lilias was an old woman, at least 60 years old and possibly as old as 80. At a time when life expectancy was much lower than it is now, even the lower estimate was still a considerable age.

That's not quite right. Although the average life expectancy was low, that's the average at birth - with a large number of infant mortalities dragging down the average. When you look at the full data, you'll see people used to live long lives even in the distant past.

In a way, it reminds me of Invisible Women. A national tragedy hidden from view.

It builds to a rousing end. There are parts of the world where witchcraft is still taken seriously - with devastating consequences. The febrile atmosphere which led to unfounded accusations against women is still prevalent even in modern societies.

Much like the film "Lola RenntRun Lola Run" there's a briefcase full of cash, a cast of morally ambiguous characters, and a meandering philosophical discussion about the nature of economic salvation.

It slams together the naïve and the cynical into a bunch of uneasy conversations.

I loved the slow-burn of the first story - the way it gradually revealed more and more about the characters. But throughout I was left wondering "where is this going?" The answer, disappointingly, was nowhere.

That's the heart of my problem with the book - it was compelling and frustrating in equal measure. The author herself states it best:

The reader needs something to hold on to. A glimmer of hope

It was stylish, there's no doubt about that. The texture of each story was gorgeous. The plotting was inventive and the morality interesting. I also enjoyed the bluntness of the social politics of economics. I just felt the whole was much less than the sum of its parts.

I read this as part of a new book club I'm attending. Thankfully, everyone else seemed to agree that it was a bit of a let down.

I'll admit, I was a little sceptical about returning to Avenue Q. I saw it on its original West End run back in… OH MY GOD I AM SO OLD! FUCK! Where did the time go?

It's always hard to know how much to update a show. Does it need constant reinvention to stay in the zeitgeist or can it be pickled forever as a classic?

"I wish I had taken more pictures" was something that utterly resonated with me about my university experience. Photos were a rare commodity back when film still cost a couple of quid to develop. Perhaps today's uni students will sing "I wish I had posted less on Instagram"?

The show has been sympathetically updated. Some of the references have been modernised, a transphobic joke given the boot, and the lyrics tweaked to sometimes devastating effect. The song "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist" seems to have the most changes - and all for the better.

Parts of the show are adapted for a UK audience. Barely anyone here knows who Gary Coleman was so his intro is changed (although I guess part of the metajoke is that we all watched foreign celebrities on Sesame Street when we were growing up - so what's one more obscure cultural reference?). In the American show, the Bad Idea Bears proffer Long Island Ice Teas - that was a bit tame for UK audiences, so in the original UK run they guzzled absinthe daiquiris - a change inexplicably reverted for this limited run.

As a piece of pure entertainment it is spectacular. The laughs are genuinely non-stop and the whole auditorium rose to give the performers a well-deserved ovation. It is a tender and beautiful show which shows off the power of live theatre.

The songs are still stuck in my head and the puppetry is still amazing. Absolutely hilarious, genuinely shocking in places, utterly filthy - an excellent night out.

Pre- and Post-Show

I've written before about The art of the Pre-Show and Post-Show. With West End prices higher than ever, it is incumbent on theatres to make their shows a memorable and spectacular evening out. That can be as simple as a bit of set dressing in the foyer, or as extravagant as they can get away with.

The offering is pretty reasonable here. You can buy the T-shirt, hoodie, and commemorative socks at exorbitant prices. The souvenir programme is £8 and, while lush with photos, is pretty sparse. The original West End programme from the early 2000s had a pin-up calendar of Lucy The Slut, a bunch more funny photos, and fake autographs of the puppets.

There's a photo-booth for taking selfies, but it appeared to be broken.

It might been nice to have a few puppets placed around for people to take photos with.

One of the simplest things a venue can do is put on a themed cocktail menu. I'm surprised more shows don't do that. Who is going to turn down a glass of "The Internet Is For Pornstar Martini"?

The Shaftesbury Theatre itself isn't too cramped, even in the cheap seats. Although, at the back of the stalls, the overhang cuts off the top of the set which means you will miss a bit of action in some scenes.

While we were waiting for the show to start, the auditorium was filled with soundscape of subway cars rattling and distorted announcements. Again, fairly cheap and simple, but a nice way to build the mood.

As we exited, we were handed leaflets encouraging us to come back and bring our friends. Even better was the £10 discount on our next booking!

Considering this is a limited run, the production has done a fair job of getting the audience in the mood and rewarding them for their patronage.

Well done to all involved!

A few weeks ago I signed up for BrowserStack as I wanted to join their Open Source programme. I had a few emails back-and-forth with their support team and finally got set up.

A couple of days later I received an email to that email address from someone other than BrowserStack. After a brief discussion, the emailer told me they got my details from Apollo.io.

Naturally, I reached out to Apollo to ask them where they got my details from.

They replied:

Your email address was derived using our proprietary algorithm that leverages publicly accessible information combined with typical corporate email structures (e.g., firstname.lastname@companydomain.com).

Wow! A proprietary algorithm, eh? I wonder how much AI it takes to work out "firstname.lastname"????

Obviously, their response was inaccurate. There's no way their magical if-else statement could have derived the specific email I'd used with BrowserStack. I called them out on their bullshit and they replied with:

Your email address came from BrowserStack (browserstack.com) one of our customers who participates in our customer contributor network by sharing their business contacts with the Apollo platform.

The date of collection is 2026-02-25.

So I emailed BrowserStack a simple "Hey guys, what the fuck?"

I love their cheery little "No spam, we promise!"

Despite multiple attempts to contact them, BrowserStack never replied.

Given that this email address was only used with one company, I think there are a few likely possibilities for how Apollo got it.

• BrowserStack routinely sell or give away their users' data.
• A third-party service used by BrowserStack siphons off information to send to others.
• An employee or contractor at BrowserStack is exfiltrating user data and transferring it elsewhere.

There are other, more nefarious, explanations - but I consider that to be unlikely. I suspect it is just the normalisation of the shabby trade in personal information undertaken by entities with no respect for privacy.

But, it turns out, it gets worse. My next blog post reveals how Apollo got my phone number from from a very big company.

Be seeing you 👌

When I finally invent time-travel, the first thing I'll do is go back in time and give everyone a copy of this book. Published in 2014, it clearly sets out the likely problems with true Artificial Intelligence (not the LLM crap we have now) and what measures need to be put in place before it is created.

It opens with The Unfinished Fable of the Sparrows:

Which, frankly, should be the end of the discussion. Oh Scronkfinkle, why didn't they listen to you?

This book attempts to set out they why and the how of protecting humanity from the (inevitable?) arrival of machines which we would describe as "superintelligent". That is, capable of human-level reasoning and understanding, but unlimited in terms of speed, working memory, and accuracy.

For example, automated trading algorithms caused a "Flash Crash" of the stock market in 2010. Unchecked machines very nearly destabilised the financial work. As Bostrom writes:

[…] while automation contributed to the incident, it also contributed to its resolution. The pre-preprogrammed stop order logic, which suspended trading when prices moved too far out of whack, was set to execute automatically because it had been correctly anticipated that the triggering events could happen on a timescale too swift for humans to respond. The need for pre-installed and automatically executing safety functionality—as opposed to reliance on runtime human supervision—again foreshadows a theme that will be important in our discussion of machine superintelligence.

So where are those safety functions now? Are any of the AI providers building in guardrails to prevent atrocities? We know that some LLMs are restricted from sharing details about devastating weapons of mass destruction - but there seems little else put in place.

The book is mostly accessible but veers wildly between casual language, deep philosophical tracts, pointed snark, and the occasional dive into maths and physics. For anyone with even a passing interest in the progression of any technology, it is a worthwhile read.

Many of the predictions are spot on:

As of 2012, the Zen series of go-playing programs has reached rank 6 dan in fast games (the level of a very strong amateur player), using Monte Carlo tree search and machine learning techniques. Go-playing programs have been improving at a rate of about 1 dan/year in recent years. If this rate of improvement continues, they might beat the human world champion in about a decade.

In fact, AlphaGo achieved mastery at the end of 2016.

In the slightly longer term, the cost of acquiring additional hardware may be driven up as a growing portion of the world’s installed capacity is being used to run digital minds […] as investors bid up the price for existing computing infrastructure to match the return they expect from their investment

As I wrote about in "AI is a NAND Maximiser" this too has come to pass.

While LLMs weren't yet invented when this was written, there's an excellent prediction about how an AI could become a pernicious psychological adversary:

Caution and restraint would be required, however, for us not to ask too many such questions—and not to allow ourselves to partake of too many details of the answers given to the questions we do ask—lest we give the untrustworthy oracle opportunities to work on our psychology (by means of plausible-seeming but subtly manipulative messages). It might not take many bits of communication for an AI with the social manipulation superpower to bend us to its will.

Indeed, I think it is clear that this is already happening. While I don't ascribe malice (or any other motivation) to the AIs, it is clear that their makers have a bias towards obsequiousness.

Other predictions are perhaps a little wide of the mark:

if somebody were to succeed in creating an AI that could understand natural language as well as a human adult, they would in all likelihood also either already have succeeded in creating an AI that could do everything else that human intelligence can do, or they would be but a very short step from such a general capability.

We're a few years in to the LLM revolution and, while we can quibble about what "understand" means, it's clear that natural language can now mostly be interpreted by computers. But that doesn't seem to have made the leap to general intelligence, nor the acceleration of art and science.

Others are hopeful but possibly a bit naïve:

A future superintelligence occupies an epistemically superior vantage point: its beliefs are (probably, on most topics) more likely than ours to be true. We should therefore defer to the superintelligence’s opinion whenever feasible.

Yes, there probably are modern concepts which have more in common with "phlogiston" than reality. But if a scientist were to time-travel back to the early 1700s, how easy would it be for them to disprove the theory? Perhaps AI ought to exist in the "trust but verify" space?

It is slightly over-footnoted, with no distinction between citation and diverting passage. There's also a tendency to go off in fanciful directions - the stuff on genetically enhancing humans goes on a bit too long for my tastes. Similarly, the philosophy of maximising happiness by emulating brains and virtually doping them seemed unconvincing.

That said, some of the thought experiments are both fun and profound - the seminal "Paperclip Maximiser" was introduced in this book.

There are some downsides. An over-reliance on specific individuals like Eliezer Yudkowsky crowds out some of the other important thinkers.

One of the suggestions made has already fallen:

One valuable asset would be a donor network comprising individuals devoted to rational philanthropy, informed about existential risk, and discerning about the means of mitigation. It is especially desirable that the early-day funders be astute and altruistic, because they may have opportunities to shape the field’s culture before the usual venal interests take up position and entrench.

The "Effective Altruism" movement is now hopelessly compromised and seemingly in tatters. Similarly, the cult of rationalism has taken an unfortunate turn to the bizarre and dangerous.

Nevertheless, it's hard to argue with the philosophy. Whether or not "superintelligence" is ever achieved, we should have systems in place now to protect us. It's the same as any other technology - the time to set up nuclear non-proliferation agreements and the systems to monitor them was before we invented them.

Mark-Anthony Turnage's "Three Screaming Popes" was a chaotic cacophony. Wild, bizarre, inventive, and seemingly driven by excess. A fascinating performance, although not one I'll put on in the background. Turnage himself took to the stage to bask in the applause.

Bartók's Violin Concerto No. 1. Reading the story behind the composition made the performance by soloist Alina Ibragimova even more terrifying than it might have otherwise been. The sounds emanating from her violin were somewhere between a tantrum and flirtatious coquette. Stunning to see her tear up the stage.

Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition. Outstanding. Hearing a 100 piece orchestra power through the score was exhilarating. It is such a vivid piece. There's no other way to describe it - each movement is distinct and full of character. One of those rare pieces where you can feel the music worming its way into your brain.

You can listen to the concert on BBC Radio 3.

Pre- and Post-Show

I've written before about The art of the Pre-Show and Post-Show. Venues and shows have multiple ways to make an event special for an audience.

This concert did some things really well. For a start - the programme was free! I wish the West End was a bit more like Broadway with a free "Playbill" at every show. Even better, the programme was actually useful! Some nice blurbs about the performers and the pieces.

I particularly liked this little snippet:

How wonderful! It's always someone's first time at an orchestral concert. More programmes should have these little comfort notes.

Other than that, there wasn't much. There was no interaction between the conductor and audience, which felt a little odd. The programme had a QR code to a 31(!) point questionnaire. I'm not sure how many people would be bothered to complete that.

Royal Festival Hall is a delight - plenty of space, multiple bars, lots of seating areas, and a larger number of spacious & clean toilets. An excellent venue.

The concert is titled "The Music of Billie Eilish, Bridgerton, and Beyond" - it's all crowd-pleasers covering everything from "Take On Me" to the earworm from KPOP Demon Hunters. Venues now know they can't stop people pulling out their phones, so there was an announcement politely asking people not to record the whole show or use their flash but, other than that, snap away.

It was a delightfully relaxed performance. The audience were encouraged to sing along which filled the hall with pleasing susurrus of half-remembered lyrics. I'll admit to being ignorant of some of Billie Eilish's work but even if you don't recognise the tunes, there's no escaping the brilliance of the performances.

I'm not sure how adapted the setlist was for a UK audience, but it was nice to hear some Radiohead and Coldplay in there. The encore of Bohemian Rhapsody was, of course, outstanding and had everyone leaping to their feet in applause.

If a permutation of the VSQ visits your neighbourhood, I'd highly recommend basking in their talent.

The Venue

We picked up cheap tickets for the show. There's no such thing as a bad seat at the Barbican Hall. We were literally as far back as possible and still had a superb and unobstructed view of the stage. The acoustics were flawless and the seats were comfortable and had leg-room. Basically, every performance space in London should be this good. Of course, the toilets were another matter!

While there are loos scattered about the building, they're clearly inadequate for the number of patrons. The queue out of the ladies minutes before the show started should be an embarrassment to the Barbican.

Pre- and Post-Show

I've written before about The art of the Pre-Show and Post-Show. This concert had… nothing! There was no souvenir programme to buy and only a perfunctory pre-show email explaining how to find the venue.

The warm-up act, Tom Speight was decent. A half-hour acoustic set to get us going. His music was charming as was his crowd-work getting us to sing along.

There was meant to be a post-show merch stall with the opportunity of a meet-and-greet with VSQ. The Barbican is a maze and we couldn't find it on our trek from the balcony to the exit. Perhaps a little signposting would help?

The post-show email was utterly generic. No encouragement to share the experience or find out more about the performance or look for future tickets. Just a soulless Net Promoter Score exercise.