Monday, 28 January 2013

I got a clapper!

Now ordinarily you may think: “That’s nothing to shout about!” but that is only because you are being sick and wrong and you need to stop it.

I am, of course, talking about a clapper board what was given to me as a very special and personal gift from Marcel Glover – what he had made with his own fair hand purely to give to me [this may be an exaggeration of the actual circumstances].

It was the best thing that happened all weekend!

Oh yeah and there was a little bit of filming dun an’ all.

It was one of them film shoot Sunday malarks which I have gone on about occasionally, and being a blogger and partaking of local activities and culture and so on, I am obliged to impart my knowledge of said event in the hope of increasing its popularity – its something about optimisation or internet marketing or some such modern nonsense.

Any hoo, I got in a bunch of people and I made them do things like point at each other and shout their name (I learned that from Paul Davies) and then go round talking to each other – it seemed to make them happy for a bit.

Then I ordered people to film them – this is when it got confoosing.

I’m alright with the whole filmmaking thing, right up to the point when it gets to making a film -  this is when all the sticky glue comes unstuck and runs down my leg into a little puddly pool of incompetence.

So I am now preparing myself for the inevitable news that the footage is useless and we shall have to start again.

But still… it’s a day out.

Friday, 25 January 2013

Dongle Dongle

I really have been put into solitary confinement now.

I have to admit that I deserve it. Rather like the one who rides the motorbike in ‘The Great Escape’ I know what I did, and I know I deserve the punishment for it.
this isn't a dongle

I have been pressing my face against this computer screen for far too many hours each day and my brain got bored and naughty and spent rather too many hours roaming the dark corners of the internet. 

In my darkest, filthiest times, I even went so far as to read articles in the Daily Mail.

It had to stop.

No work was getting done, no progress with my plan to take over the world was being made, I wasn’t even taking care of my bloggity blog blog in the way it deserves.

So I had my dongle removed. It was painful, but it was for the best.

I still get a couple of hours with the precious internet each day to, just enough to prevent starvation.

But in the meantime, I am bereft. All I can do is write blogs and hope that, somehow, they will make it to your eyes.

Wednesday, 23 January 2013

HAHA The Play’s the thing!

I’m sure I’ve used that quote before, but then again, who hasn’t?

So yeah, right, I went to this play group at 15 Queen Street yesterday and at first I know you’re all like: ‘Play group!?’ and I’m like ‘Yeah Play group – a group that talks about plays’ and you’re all like ‘ oh right I was thinking something else’.

Boba Fett is rubbish at Maths
So now we have established what it is I can tell you about it – so I had a heater but everyone else was really cold, which was nice, there was a mixture of people I knew and people I didn’t. We talked about ‘The Virtuous Butler’ by some Italian I’d never heard of (but the point in going, is to learn things, see? I learnt about an Italian!) and then we talked about our opinion on things and I found it very hard to keep my mouth shut because I have a lot of opinions but I know that some other people have opinions too, even though they’re not important.

“Did you learn to write a play like you’ve been banging on about for ages?” 

No, no I didn’t ‘learn to write a play’ – we had a bit of a read through and a muck about.

But on an important note (my notes are always important) I did realise that I do not write with enough ‘integrity’.

Yes, I did just use that word.

Believe it or not, I think I hold back too much on my precious and important opinions and just write trivial nonsense.

I must remedy this. 

Spoons are funny.

Monday, 21 January 2013

My Red Shoes

Well, of all the ways for me to become an internet and film-world sensation I didn’t think it would be because of my feet.

I was aware that it was a distinct possibility.

From the moment I stumbled into the internet, fresh faced and innocent, I quickly became aware that one can become an internet sensation for any number of reasons.
Most, are tremendously unpleasant.

However this is the way that it is and so I must be prepared for the inevitability of the fame of my feet.

“What are you drivelling on about you outrageous drunk!”

I am not drunk! And I resent any implication that I am.

I was simply highlighting the distinct possibility that my feet will be famous: This firm belief is based on having spent the weekend in a draughty and mostly abandoned building having said appendages filmed for a little short film called ‘Chain Reaction’ in which I star. 

Well I’m in it. Well my feet are in it. For a bit.

The length of screen time is not important!

Look at Judi Dench. That’s what my feet are now. I shall call them Judy and Dench. 

The left one will be Dench.

Friday, 18 January 2013

The Wickedness of Janus

Well I’ve just looked out the window and from what I can see it is still January.

The problem with January (And I point this out each year) is that it tends to go on for twice as long as all the other months combined.
this is Janus: Looking back and forward, clever innit?

As a result you claw your way to the end of January and before you have time to draw breath in February, it’s already April. You wonder what happened to March, but by the time you’ve tried to work it out it’s already the end of June. Then you think about maybe doing something in July, cos July is a nice time to do something, because it never rains in July or nuffin. Then something shiny distracts you and it is the middle of September and some git somewhere has started playing Christmas music and suddenly you don’t have time to do anything because you have to prepare yourself, you have to build the barricades and collect the weapons in readiness for the onslaught of the ‘Festive Season’.

There is a silent moment one week in late November.

It doesn’t last long, perhaps an hour. You realise that you have six whole weeks until the big day. You relax. You sit down, have a ‘breather’. Heat up some wine and put a bit of spice in it. You don’t like it, but it’s the holiday season so you drink it anyway.

But you are a fool, you are wrong, you don’t have six weeks, you have two days and you have already said you’d do that thing so you’ll have to go there, and then come back here and then do that and make sure that works, collect that, wrap this, and then its all over before you’ve had time to suck on a roast potato.

And here we are again. January.

Monday, 7 January 2013

Hateful hatred of hate.

That was it?

That was the weekend?

That was NEVER a full weekend!? That was about half a day, at most. Flippen fricken rip off by all accounts.

I will destroy you all
It was only about six hours long, and do you know what I flippen well did? I did flippen nuthin that’s what.

I spent the entire six hours putting off stuff that I was meant to be doing and not doing other things that were useful cos I was too busy doing the thing that I was meant to be doing only I wasn't doing the thing, I was avoiding doing it.

So I withered away in a guilt ridden pool of procrastination and filth. Not relaxing, not achieving, not a jot of anything. My body and brain are still seized up from the lack of activity and they need activity in order to get back to activity however no activity is forthcoming and so I languish within a fetid hole of inactivity.

I blame you for this.

It is your petulant insistence that everyone stops everything for two weeks to gather together and piss each other off, while gorging themselves on whatever they can lay their hands on just to avoid the misery of looking at each other’s faces. Now look what has happened.

Are you happy now?


Friday, 4 January 2013


How in the flaming world of flip flops did Friday happen? This is absurd! I should write to my MP!

where's Bob's bins?
I should also write to dear old yellow waistcoat bob about his crazy bins. They are all over the place, the crafty urban foxes know more about his bin schedule than I do and as a result my garden has been decorated with chicken corpses and bean tins.

Anyhoo I have somehow managed to claw my way obscenely through this week, I don’t know how, I have no recollection of the past weeks events, apart from the fact that I have gorged myself on sherbet lemons and snack-a-jacks. After the first few days of the food frenzy my weight didn’t sky-rocket to the amount I expected and rather than think ‘oh that’s good’ like any normal person, I looked upon this as a challenge and spent the rest of the fortnight attempting to get back up to my dreaded weight.

It didn’t happen, thank frick, cos I don’t know what I would have done when I got there; the only thing I have that actually fits me at my dreaded weight is a pair of gloves and I don’t think this minimalist outfit would have been appreciated when I inevitably have to stroll into town.

Right, so where am I? Yes, Friday… at least now the dreaded thought of the dreaded Friday might make me think about completing some of the dreaded work. Either that or I shall spend the rest of the day scavenging around the empty house in the hope of stumbling upon a lonesome sherbet lemon.

Thursday, 3 January 2013

Fuzzy Fuzz Fuzz


I feel like I have woken up with all cotton wool and dust in my mouth. I’m like a dried out husk with all my intestines in little pots scattered around the floor. My head is being squeezed by invisible crampons, and my neck can only rotate through 45 degrees or thereabouts, I’m no good with angles, but I know my head should be able to move about more than it is
this happened at one point

‘What’s wrong?’ I hear you ask, with very little interest. 

I am recovering from the last few weeks of family orientated gatherings; I spent the best part of it either attempting to sleep or reading food labels. Thrilling. 

Now I am back at this self induced ‘work’ and I have forgotten what on earth I am supposed to do.

Was there something I did?

Were there tasks I used to complete?

Did I have a purpose?

I have absolutely no idea what’s going on…