Hard of Thinking

Why is it that whenever you have some twat playing music much too loudly in public, it's always shit?

You know the kind of genetic waste I'm talking about. The kind of people who drive in their suped-up (is that right? It can't be souped-up, can it?) shitty tin-can cars, speeding through quiet village towns, blaring music that's nothing but bass. They sound like they have a sentient amplifibian in their boot, hammering to get out.

That's right: amplifibian. It's a creature. That amplifies... sound or something. Oh, i don't know. My similies can't always be golden.

As golden as a...

oh, forget it.

The same slime that have their headphones on, but are listening to music so loud that you can hear it when wearing your headphones. I always keep mine at an acceptable level, by the way. Of course I do.

Anyway, they're always playing shitty house, or drum & bass that sounds like it was whipped up by a deranged robot with ADD and Parkinsons (there we go).

Just once, I'd like to walk onto the top of the bus, and hear someone's headphones blaring out some Bach or something. It would be refreshing.

Or the theme to Pigeon Street. Or the shipping forecast.

I think the reason these losers play there music so loud is because they have such shit taste in music. They don't understand it. They don't enjoy it. They just know that music is good (or perceived as good). So they can't choose quality or range of music in order to increase their consumption of it; they just increase the volume. It's as though they think by doubling the decibel-level they can achieve a union with the musical form that compensates for their deficiencies.

But in truth, it just makes them sound like idiots, who haven't moved beyond hitting pots and pans as hard as they can to get attention from their alcoholic, hairy-knuckled, abusive parents.

It's sad really. But quite pleasing if they were to drive into a ditch and smash their faces up, while the pounding bass drum provides a point of reference so they know that their heartbeat is slowing... slowing... slowing...

When you're smiling...

What am I doing here?

I ask, not in the existential sense, but in the physical one. Why am I in this office? This office. Why am I in this organisation? This city?

It wasn't choice, was it?

That's not to say that it's terrible here. Or even particularly tedious. It's just that I'm sure I should be somewhere else. Surely, someone with such a wide range of egotistical beliefs should be spectacularly failing somewhere expensive.

I am egotistical. It's just not always clear because I'm quiet and shy, and most big-headed people have a mouth to match. (The fact that I literally have a big head and mouth is irrelevant here, I think). I don't think I'm the best at anything, but I'm pretty good at loads of stuff, and I'm exceptionally brilliant at being falsely modest.

I'm certainly more talented than, let's say, Chris Moyles. And I don't hate Chris Moyles. But I could do what he does. Except he's louder than me. That's why he's a success.

And why I'm sitting here, being reasonably well paid to do fuck-all on a computer and drinking coffee from a mug that's dirty because I'm too lazy to go to the kitchen.

I'm lazy and quiet. A dangerous mix. Perhaps I should sellotape a megaphone to my mouth and snort cocaine at the beginning of each day, and I could zoom around the city spraying feedback and invention over the fools that live each day, moderately volumed, moderately hard-working, and unwilling to whine on the internet about their lot.

I'm lazy and quiet and afraid of being part of organisations. I hate the idea of 'working my way up the ladder', or being part of a system. I like temping because it's like tying a rope around me and anchoring myself to my bed so that I can't be sucked into the real world. I hate acronyms and forms and people talking about the quirks of colleagues. If I learn the names of everyone in my office, it's time to leave.

My only hope of success in a field I'm interested in is someone important plucking me off (easy, now) the street and thrusting me into the limelight. Which is difficult because when I'm on the street, I'm listening to my iPod and avoiding eye contact with passers-by.

I'm lazy, quiet, afraid of being part of organisations, and inherently optimistic. This optimism stops me from coagulating in the mass of reality, but also gives me unrealistic expectations.

A long time ago, I realised that I wasn't the main character in my own life. Now, I'm not even part of the cast. I'm just someone who lurks on an internet message board discussion of My Life, and I sometimes think of something to say, but don't post it because I might miss a typo, or because Match of the Day is on.

Hmm.

I'm not sure what that metaphor was about. It didn't really make sense, did it? In fact this whole post didn't make much sense, either. I'm actually pretty happy, and only wrote the above because I'm cold and bored and caffeined up to the arseballs (you heard me).

Well, at least I've added to October's post count! Take that, September, you nonce!

I feel a tremendous sense of achievement in writing about myself, to myself.

I'm lazy, I'm quiet, I'm afraid of being part of a system, I'm optimistic, and I'm so fucking egocentric it makes me want to puke

or dance or something I dunno....

Leaderbored

In my very first post here I suggested there would be some wrestling content. Probably to its benefit, that has not come to pass. But I feel I should fulfil my mandate by adding a blog staple: a top five list!

My favourite matches (in no particular order):

AJPW - Kenta Kobashi vs Mitsuhara Misawa - Jan 97
WWF - Bret Hart vs Steve Austin - Survivor Series 96
NWA - Ric Flair vs Terry Funk - Great American Bash 89
WWF - Bret Hart vs Owen Hart - Wrestlemania X
WWF - Shawn Michaels vs The Undertaker - Hell in the Cell - IYH:Badd Blood

I know this won't mean much to most people, but I'm the only person that reads this, so I feel vindicated.

If you don't like wrestling, I'm not angry. But have a look for these names on Youtube, and you may discover you like the old fake fighting business.

***

As I'm short of ideas, let's continue the lists! Top five films (in some particular order):

The Graduate
The Godfather Part II
Back to the Future II
The Big Lebowski
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

***

Top five fruit/veg (in no particular organ):

Tomato
Onion
Apple
Banana
Liligi-fruit

***

Top five knuckles (in perpendicular order):

Index
Middle
Thumb
Little
Ring

***

Top five fives:

Five
5
Fyve
4
Phiev

***

I know what you're thinking. But this didn't take too long to read, did it? I'll write something proper next time.

Ears Lowered - Check

In much the same way as I am too scared to complain about poor service in a restaurant, I could never complain when the barber shows me the back of my head in that mirror.

I think I purposely choose simple hair cuts for this very reason. Even if the reflection showed a polaroid of my mum, beaten and gagged, stapled to my neck, I'd probably just nod and smile; "that seems fine!"

To be honest, I'm not that fussed about the back of my head. The front of my head (or 'face') is more important in making a good impression. If someone's looking at the back of my head they've either offended me so much I've had to leave, or are entering me from behind. In either case, they've probably made up their mind about me.

Anyway, my hair is shorter, which has made my head transform from gallon to pint. I can only compensate by wearing increasingly elaborate hats.



***

I'm listening to some weird music on Radio 3. Ligeti's Lux Aeterna. It is kind of freaking me out, but then again I reckon anything sung by the Latvian Radio Chorus is gonna be a bit scary. They could sing Deep Blue Something's Breakfast at Tiffany's and make me want to kill myself.

Actually, that song always made me want to kill myself.

***

Sadly, my indecision about my future continues and time keeps moving at the same rate. I've applied for a BBC Journalism Trainee Scheme, and even mentioned keeping this blog in my application. I'm sure all the Harry Potter talk and rape jokes will help my cause.

I think a move back to Oxford or London are on the cards, as living in Sidmouth becomes less tolerable as the leaves begin to fall and the ice-cream stalls close and the nubile young tourists are replaced by old women wrapped in shauls, shuffling along like characters in a Chekhov play.

Everything is just too still. And yet I'm getting older.

I feel like I'm in a parallel universe where everything is running at a different rate. Maybe when we finally get to London, I'll be old and shrivelled, and all of our contemporaries will be firm and fresh-faced and ask us where we've been. And I'll choke out an answer; only the answer will be in the form of a phlegmy, rasping death-rattle, and they'll turn back to their glass of Rioja and laugh rich, fruity laughs.

I should really stop listening to Ligeti.

***

Oh, I know of something cheerful! The Go Faster Stripe website sells really good comedy DVDs from people who probably won't get mainstream releases (or will fail anyway).

I recently bought Stewart Lee's 90's Comedian (I've started italicising titles for some reason) and Simon Munnery's Hello (good name) and they are both very funny. The DVDs are properly produced, look great, and even have extras. I highly recommend having a look. Next on my list is some Richard Herring.

Herring was at one of the gigs where I did stand-up, but I was too afraid to go and talk to him beforehand.

Here's a taste of some Stewart Lee:




***

I'd better go and find a hat. I'm thinking... wait for it... a top hat with one of those propellors on top. I'd be King Hat.

Bumper Review

No, not that kind of bumper, you silly sausage! (Cunt...)

However, that does remind me of a brilliant idea I had for a bumper-sticker. We don't really have bumper-stickers in Britain. Maybe those stupid window ones advertising a corrupt mechanics, but not the same as the US. But that doesn't mean I can't market my masterpiece:

"I'm not drunk, I'm just retarded"

No need to applaud. Oh, go on then.

My goal of exceeding September's post count is looking doubtful, so I'll have to be a bit more consistent.

***

Review 1: The Peter Serafinowicz Show (Thurs 9:30 BBC2)

I haven't seen the second episode yet, so this may be premature.

However, judging from the first, it was a bit hit and miss. His impressions are great, and unusual (I'd take Alan Alda over Blair any day of the week). But some of his targets seem a bit easy. Cillit Bang? Millionaire? Come on...

However he wins points by doing a great bit with Michael Caine wandering into the back of scenes. He is also avoids being too conventional by being slightly more unhinged than most. One to keep an eye on, I think.

***

Review 2: Other People (I think that's what it was called) (Fri 10:00 Channel 4)

That Martin Freeman 'Comedy Showcase' thing. It was fine. Funny. Freeman was his usual self (no bad thing). It has Nick Burns doing his usual wacky stuff, which is always a pleasure. The writer of the series wrote a fairly interesting article about it. I'm not sure if it would merit a series though.

***

Review 3: Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe (Tues 10:00 BBC4)

I know I talked about this last week, but it really is good. This week's was about TV news and was funny, interesting, and had elements of real (often moving) documentary. It even featured a short bit by Adam 'stock footage is my only friend' Curtis. Also, perhaps as response to my comments about him last week (I'm sure), Brooker wrote about his strangely large head in his column. I know my shit.

***

Review 4: Radiohead - In Rainbows

Of course, I took part in the social revolution/marketing ploy. I paid £3.00 (+45p admin fee), which was just enough for all the people who paid nothing to make me feel like an idiot, and all those who paid £20 to make me feel like a cheapskate.

Anyway, the album is great. A real relief after the bland (and terribly named) 'Hail to the Thief'.

Standouts include:
Bodysnatchers
Faust Arp
Reckoner
House of Cards

I recommend listening to it, it don't cost much. Unless you're one of those pedants complaining about the sound quality of a free download. Those losers probably need better sound to drown out the noise of teasing and tears that dominate their greasy lives.

Generalisations, my good chum.

***

Review 5: Drifter

Man, that's a good chocolate bar. I miss the slightly racist adverts, though. I can't find them on youtube, but I'll see what I can do.

***

That is all for now. I'll try and be a bit more regular. Perhaps I'll review England's performance tomorrow (in both football and egg-chasing) or my next nocturnal emission (on the five star scale).

Keep on breathing.

What a 'Black Stereotype Woman From Tom And Jerry' operation this is!

If I was Mickey Mouse, I'd be pissed off that my name was used so derogatorily. Mickey Mouse operation. Mickey Mouse company.

If I was going to have a cartoon character running my organisation, Mickey Mouse would be pretty much at the top of my list.

It is an outrage that one of the more responsible members of the cartoon community is tarnished by this cruel and innaccurate expression.

What about Goofy? He'd be rubbish. "This is a real Goofy operation." Better.

Of course Goofy already has negative connotations. But even so, there are so many better options.

Daffy Duck would be a good alternative. He'd just flip out and spit everywhere if he was in a high-powered business meeting.

Elmer Fudd would be incompetent. I can't see him handling complex budget issues.

Even Bugs Bunny is a bit too erratic.

I'd pick Mickey over any of them. I think the prejudice either comes from the fact that he is friendly and selfless (the kiss of death for any corporate hotshot) and has an annoying high voice. People with high voices are much less credible. Who would you rather have negotiating world peace: Morgan Freeman or Joe Pasquale? Exactly.

The only thing I want to see Joe Pasquale negotiate is which of his bollocks I cut of first.

So, anyway, a Mickey Mouse operation isn't such a bad thing. He may be the best option we have. The only competent alternative is Tweety Pie, and he's such an annoying yellow cunt that it would probably bring down capitalism.

***

BBC4 has a good Tuesday night comedy line-up, if you're interested. The Flight of the Conchords is kind of like a Kiwi Mighty Boosh, and is very appealing. Interesting Bill Bailey-ish song parodies with buckets of charm.

After that, Charlie Brooker's Screen Wipe contains buckets of bile, and is usually informative and interesting, as well as funny. His head is a bit big for his body though, which is quite disconcerting. But as a fellow GallonHead I understand the this curse.

At the weekend, I might do a TV comedy round up, because Thursday will also bring The Peter Serafinowicz Show (and a new Jennifer Saunders thing that I probably won't watch) and Friday has a new series called Comedy Showcase, which is a weekly... showcase. Of comedy. This week's offering features Martin Freeman aka "Tim" aka the main character of little-loved ITV sitcom Hardware.

Oh, come on! It was pretty good! That had Peter Serafinowicz in it too! It was called Hardware! It was based around a hardware shop! Hardware! Hardware. Fuck it.

It might be on Youtube, but I'm too lazy to search for it. That or I don't want my memories tainted by the truth.

***

I should get back to work now. This may be a waste of my employer's time, but at least typing makes me look like I'm working.

I can't wait until the end of the day so I can turn my brain off and commute home, staring and blank, sealed in the bus like a vegetable in a bag. Freedom.

Fixing a hole where the rain gets in

A whole week without posting? This hole must be plugged. I don't know if that makes any sense, but it seems right to me.

I have been distracted by various things; primarily our trip to London to see my sister's gig in Camden. I estimate that a good 50% of my readership (hi Dave!) were there, so I won't go into too much detail. Needless to say, I was very drunk and really enjoyed the gig. I don't know if the latter was contingent on the former, but I don't think so.

It was also a kind of scouting trip for a possible move to the big city. I have mixed feelings about London. Actually, they're not that mixed: I don't like it. I feel like I can't get a sense of the place, because I go everywhere by tube, and can't get my head around the geography. I think it's also because whenever I'm there, it's just for a short time, so I always feel rushed and pressured.

Having said that, I'd still like to move there. If I had a home base and more time, I'm sure I'd get to like it. Also, if I live in London for a while, I'll feel I can legitimately complain about it afterwards.

Don't know if I'd ever get used to the whole pollution-black-snot thing. Maybe I could wear some kind of nose protection, like cotton wool balls or an asbestos moustache.

***

I've been wasting time at work, expanding the scope of my internet perusal (but not THAT far; you know what I'm talking about). I haven't got anything too interesting to say, so here's a few people that do:

Stephen Fry's blog is well worth a visit if you've got lots of time on your hands (his entries are very long [that's almost a double entendre; maybe a triple]). He talks about fame here in a typically interesting fashion. He has also introduced me to the practice of putting links everywhere in my blog. I can't decide if this is useful or annoying.

Armando Iannucci is writing a regular column at the Observer site, and is consistently amusing (although sometimes a little to wry for my tastes). Which reminds me: everyone buy the criminally underrated The Armando Iannucci Shows on DVD. It's damn good.

I've also been digging Richard Dawkins' new crusade, which seems admirably ridiculous and ridiculously admirable, or something like that. Not sure about his 'A' T-shirt though. Atheist or not, wearing that surely signifies: Loser with a capital L.

And finally, this is why I don't wear a belly-button ring. Although my pierced cock is now making me nervous.

***

That should do it for now.

Consider the hole plugged.

(By the way, never use that last line as part of a rape case defense. Juries can be a bit sensitive.)