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AS a hint of spring starts to penetrate the bleakness of the northern winter, strange creatures emerge blinking into the sunlight, making odd noises. And, if you are a writer on medical issues, even stranger things clamber into your email inbox.

“Every April,” one of these vernal harbingers proclaims, “a self-serving advocacy group masquerading as an objective professional association pitches you on the dangers of sunlight and tanning…they are misleading you in the hope you will ignore published scientific information from the medical and science community.”

Strong stuff. It is referring, of course, to publicity put out on behalf of the manufacturers of sunscreens. In contrast, this missive promotes a very different message: “The cancer risk has been debunked…Sunlight – natural or artificial – is vital to human health.”

So whence comes this pre-emptive and public-spirited mission to debunk? From an organisation called Wolff System Technology. And in what business might it be? Surprise, surprise, when you follow the link at the foot of the email, you arrive at “The industry leader in indoor tanning”.

It’s called Google whacking, and the craze has spread across the globe. The idea is that you put a pair of seemingly random words into the Google search box with the aim of producing only a single hit – a Google whack. Now, for bored biomed researchers everywhere, Mathew Smith and Christopher Morris of the Welsh School of Pharmacy at Cardiff University have devised a purely scientific version.

To play the game, which they have called Pubmed Whack, you enter two search words on the main Pubmed search page () with the aim of getting just one cited reference back. For example, “dendrimer endocytosis” is a Pubmed whack, as is “mitochondria daffodil”.

Perhaps the years working at èƵ have affected Feedback’s brain, but we have tried this and found it strangely addictive, in a frustrating sort of way. To our chagrin, “neanderthal spacecraft” produced no citations at all, whereas “neanderthal computer” produced five. We’ve been at it for hours, and we are still desperately trying to get a whack.

FROM the department of signs of the times. A colleague’s 6-year-old daughter had a “beauty night” at her weekly Brownie meeting the other day. Needless to say, when he went to collect her, he found a swarm of diminutive girl scouts sporting too much blusher, gaudy nail polish, and strands of over-crimped hair.

Being the good dad that he is, our colleague took a couple of photos of his daughter with her best friend. The instant the flash died away, one of the girls ran round behind him to see how the photo had turned out…only to be visibly disappointed by the lack of an LCD image on the back of his camera. It was, unfortunately, one of those old-fashioned ones that uses film.

THE FUNCTION of airline meals is not, of course, nutrition, but to keep you sitting down while you fiddle with the many layers of packaging instead of wandering around and annoying the staff. So imagine reader Andy Greenwood’s relief on being handed a pre-packaged roll as part of the in-flight meal on an Air UK flight from Amsterdam to the UK, and discovering within the packaging a slip of paper informing him that the roll had been given the minimum amount of packing material, so as to make it as environmentally friendly as possible.

“Perhaps if they left the note out,” he muses, “and then printed on the wrapper that no note is included within the wrapper explaining about the minimal use of packaging in order to save on paper in order to be more environmentally friendly, then that would be a true environmental saving.”

Quite so.

READER Richard Higgs tells us he has stumbled across (but how?) a low-tech, low-mumbo-jumbo way of communicating with those on the Other Side. “For a donation of $5 per word (5 word minimum), we can have telegrams delivered to people who have passed away,” it says at . “This is done with the help of terminally ill volunteers who memorise the telegrams before passing away… At this time we only have one messenger. He has requested that his fees be donated to charity.”

As Higgs notes, this assumes that the person delivering your message is going to the same place as your dearly deceased. They don’t seem to offer a “heaven” or “hell” option, and we can’t find any trace of a “reply paid” option either.

FINALLY, Jennifer Griffin’s email server automatically labels messages it thinks are spam, so that they can be spotted more easily. Earlier this month she came across this subject line in her inbox: “SPAM: The Perfect Valentine’s Day Gift.”

Some people, Griffin points out, prefer chocolates or flowers.

The lifts where Mark Dunlop works have warning stickers telling the occupants: “Only use the control buttons provided”. Dunlop is still trying to work out what else anyone could do

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