Baps And Beyond

After yesterday’s "Lorraine Kelly breast-fest" I feel the need to move this blog away from such bap-titious topics and onto a more sedate and gentlemanly footing.

Hey. I’ve just invented a new word!

Baptitious: adj, of or pertaining to the female mammary glands; resembling breasts; boob-like. Not to be confused with baptism or baptize though baptitiousness is not confined to any one religious or social denomination. Usage: Lorraine Kelly, wearing a plunging neckline, looked exceedingly baptitious on GMTV this morning, said Eamonn Holmes in a recent interview with Cantaloupe Weekly.

Eat your heart out Samuel Johnson. Shove it in your dictionary and spin on it!

Yes. Anyway. About this more sedate and gentlemanly footing...

Kelly’s Heroes

Karen and I ended up debating the allure of GMTV presenter Lorraine Kelly last night - the reason being we’d just watched a repeated episode of Have I Got News For You – the one presented by Lorraine – on UKTV G2. I’d like to point out at this point that debating the merits or otherwise of breakfast TV presenters is not a normal pastime in our house.

Anyway Karen commented on the fact that, like an awful lot of men, I find Lorraine Kelly intriguingly attractive and I had to agree that there is something about her that a lot of guys seem to go for in a big way. But what exactly is it?

Having thought about it over night (oo-er) I think Lorraine’s attractiveness is based on a few key points.

1) First and foremost she IS actually a beautiful woman. Stunningly so. That alone will do it for most guys.

2) She’s giggly and funny – a huge plus in anybody’s book – and tied in with that is the fact that she obviously has an absolutely filthy sense of humour. That is always attractive. Yet she’s never coarse which is a repulsive trait in absolutely anybody (Jade Goodey take note).

3) Sure she’s a bit mumsy but she’s NOT mumsy in a pinafore, feather duster and stench of Mr Sheen kind of way. She’s mumsy in a MILF kind of way (pardon the expression) and that’s a BIG difference.

4) She’s also patently intelligent, quick witted and sensitive. All admirable traits I’m sure you’ll agree – you just cannot be great without them.

5) But the real reason – and I have acknowledged the truth of this to Karen’s face – is that (to quote an exemplary episode of Bottom) she has an absolutely "wazzo pair of jugs".

I’m sorry if this offends people. But it IS true and I suspect most guys tune into breakfast TV every morning for no other reason than to get their fix of Lorraine Kelly’s delectable cleavage swinging pendulously as she fidgets and giggles on the sofa.

Are we hetero guys really so shallow, superficial and so utterly predictable in our stimuli?

It seems that we are.

Even the Lorraine Kelly Appreciation Society uses the following as a tag-line on their site: "She [Lorraine] is on GMTV every morning, where she gives her male fans a glimpse of her shapely legs and her magnificent cleavage!!"

So there you go: Lorraine Kelly, folks... a woman of many talents and virtues which can yet so easily be whittled down to two.

But my God are they good ones.

The Spoils

I have to confess to feeling completely lacklustre this morning... Monday morning syndrome strikes again.

Nevertheless I feel it incumbent on me to comment upon the Celebrity Big Brother final that played out on the TV before the nation’s jaundiced eyes last night.

The only real surprise was Dirk scoring higher than Ian. Personally I really liked Dirk’s irascibility and his grouchiness. Obviously I must empathise in some way and share those same qualities myself (my wife is nodding)... though I’d prefer to think the affinity lies elsewhere, i.e. in my ability to adopt any disguise at whim and to construct tanks with exocet missile launchers out of old mopeds, washing up liquid bottles and dusty boxes of junk that people leave lying about in their garages. That and an Oedipal need to suck on a fat cigar like it was a woman’s teat.

Yeah, me and Dirk... we’re like bro’s.

Anyway, it was no surprise that Shilpa won and though part of me initially felt it was evidence of cynical manoeuvring on Channel 4’s part I nevertheless must admit that Shilpa was a worthy winner. Truly graceful, magnanimous and dignified as well as willing to put aside any hint of sourness and bad feeling. Though I’m sure the latter was out of an understandable desire to put as much distance between herself and the foul memory of Jade Goodey as humanly possible. It may be that once she’s had time to consider the full picture she’ll feel justifiably furious at her treatment by Jade, Jo and Danielle. Certainly it was heart rending to see how upset she got when confronted with a potted account of all that those three witches had done. Too much for the poor girl to take in, I suspect, though she needed to see it.

Cynicism aside, at the end of the day Shilpa’s victory at least gave out all the right signals about what the UK really stands for at its best...

As for its worst, I have to confess I enjoyed Danielle and Jack’s discomfort immensely. Bravo to Channel 4 for confronting them with the full impact of all they’d subjected Shilpa to. How they squirmed. I have to say though that, like Jade, at least Danielle accepted the wrongness of her actions immediately and looked genuinely ashamed. I still can’t get over the fact that Jo refused to accept her part in it during her exit interview on Friday. That will go badly against her, I’m sure.

I really hope that the careers of all three are in tatters. I wish I had the capacity for forgiveness and clemency that Jermaine and Shilpa so admirably exhibit but alas I don’t. So tough.

Am I glad that it’s all over? You bet.

Although it created much meat for many a good blog Karen and I are both of the opinion that it’s nice to have our viewing choices freed up once more. BB is rather a jealous god so it’s always nice when it’s hold on the nation loosens... in fact even last night we were Channel hopping to the Beeb to catch Richard Hammond’s very welcome return to Top Gear after his near fatal car crash late last year. It was good to see and the show was good-humouredly laced with loads of manly emotion and the kind of awkward, stiff-upper-lipped love that only exists between "real men". Ah what joy to behold.

Nice to see you back Richard.

The Über Novel

At long last, after literally years of harping on and on about my desire to write a novel I’m finally in a position to start one.

I have an idea. It’s workable. I’ve lived with it for a while and my intelligent and stylish wife has picked it to pieces, scanned it for logic holes and generally bullied it into tip-top shape like a hard-nosed training officer in the United Stated army (only without the muscular moustache and the baguette sized cigar).

I have the technical ability. Well, at least I think I do. I’ve been scoring quite a few successes with my writing over the last few years – it’s about time I put my skills to a bigger test and made the dream real.

I have the stamina. Yes really I do. I consistently write a thousand words a day – usually for this here blog - and regularly write for my own web site, Pocketropolis. Why not siphon off some of that verbiage into a more lasting project? Go on, my son, you can do it!

I have the motivation. God anything that offers me a possible escape route from my boring, soul destroying job will be grabbed with both hands I can tell you. The Foreign Legion and Al Qaeda were all viable options at one point. I even considered Big Brother for a while... Well. Actually, no. I didn’t. That’s a lie. Things have never been that bad.

I have the power. He-Man stylee. The planets are all correctly aligned. The Death Star plans are on board. I’m perched on the edge of Mount Doom with the One Ring in my hands.

So why instead of starting today – right now – have I again typically distracted myself by composing yet another blog entry?

Television Is Evil (Apparently)

After writing quite an innocuous blog entry last week about wanting to work less and spend more time with my family – All Work And No Play - I’ve found myself inexplicably attacked by Mr Anonymous (the Mr Man that Roger Hargreaves couldn’t be bothered to write about) who, after presumably skimming through a few of my other blog entries, jumped to the huge conclusion that the reason I don’t have enough time with my family is because I watch far too much television. For those of you who are interested, you can read his sanctimonious outpourings by clicking on the Comments link at the bottom of the entry in question.

Now my first reaction was one of immense anger and I still feel hugely offended. You’ll see from my replies that I generally watch no more than 2 hours of television a day. Hardly a massive family-quality-time sapping amount is it? Mr Anonymous however, undoubtedly with his nose in the air, countered with the argument that 2 hours a day soon adds up if you total it up over a year.

I find such statistics deeply irritating. They’re the usual recourse of the unimaginatively smug. Ah yes – you might only pick your nose for 2 minutes day but added up over a lifetime that equals 912 hours! 912 hours when you could be doing something far more worthy and important! So what are you supposed to do? Never pick your nose again and write a Nobel Peace Prize winning novel with the extra time that you’ve gained?

What rubbish. It’s unrealistic as well as being impractical and stupid.

Such statistics are utterly meaningless.

My biggest gripe, however, is the fact that Mr Anonymous has read a handful of my Blog entries and has just assumed that I choose to watch television rather than spend time with my family. That’s deeply offensive: (a) because nobody has the right to make judgements about me, my life and the intimate workings of my family life based upon a few flimsy blog entries and (b) I generally watch television WITH my family. And it’s not a passive viewing pastime either – Karen and I debate and discuss constantly the issues that are presented towards us. The television is far from being an “idiot box” in our house.

But even if it was who the hell has the right to tell me – or indeed you – that you have no right to relax in whatever way you see fit? I work effing hard. So does my wife. If we want to relax by watching TV, taking up Pilates, tying ourselves in knots with yoga or knitting voluminous sweaters out of spaghetti then so be it. Nobody has the right to say we can’t or intimate that our choice of relaxation is harming our relationship!

Mr Anonymous how dare you!

You obviously spend far too much time in front of the computer reading other people’s blogs and making ill-informed judgements about the owners based upon what you read. I could easily argue that such a pastime is bad for you and your own relationships. Why aren’t you spending that time with your family – if indeed you have one? Why don’t you count up how many hours you spend being sanctimonious over a year and try and decide whether it’s a worthy use of your time?

Personally, as far as I’m concerned, you can do what the effing hell you like with your life.

Just kindly butt out of mine.

Related Blog: A Blog On The Spectrum.

Mirror Mirror

I don’t usually read the tabloids – in fact being a BBC News 24 fan I rarely read newspapers at all these days – but yesterday I happened to pick up my granddad’s copy of The Mirror while visiting him and I had a quick flick through.

Aside from being shocked at the total lack of newsworthiness of most of the dross that filled its pages I was mostly irritated by its front page story. Exhibiting the kind of ug-ug primitive irony that is normally found in the ham-fisted mitts of "politically aware" 13 year olds they’d drafted up a letter for the bosses of Big Brother to take to their Channel 4 board meeting this week. It simply said "RESIGN" in big letters.

Oh ho ho ho.

Now, I’ve been as vociferous as everybody else in condemning BB’s handling of the Shilpa-gate scandal (I really must copyright that) but I’m not arrogant enough to think I have the right to demand someone’s resignation.

I certainly don’t think that a newspaper has that right either. Excuse me, Mirror, report the news – don’t try to make it! When it comes to the decisions of other companies and people – butt out and stay out. Who put you in charge?

This whole BB thing has become a repulsive witch hunt. People are reacting now NOT out of a sense of outrage or genuine disgust but out of a sense of glee. Ooh who can we bring down now? Whose life can we thoroughly ruin for our own entertainment? Think of the newspaper and magazine sales!

It comes down to this: scandal sells – but only as long as the scandal lasts. Hence people in the media – the ones who are truly benefiting from this whole debacle – will be doing all they can to perpetuate the racism row until every last drop of blood is sucked out of Channel 4, Big brother, Jade, Danielle and Jo. And Shilpa too for that matter.

Personally I’ve had my fill.

Enough is enough.

Eggs Benedict

Have they learnt nothing from Jade’s eviction?

My God – just how thick can these people be?

It seems that we as a race always need someone to pick upon, victimize and bully. It’s a distasteful need to admit to but if Big Brother truly is a reflection of society then the proof is plainly there to see.

No sooner is Jade ousted from the BB house and the bullying of Shilpa dies down than the housemates choose a new target and a whole new round of bullying begins. This time the victim is Dirk Benedict. Phew – well at least there isn’t a racist angle this time, eh folks?

I’m not even sure quite why it started. Dirk flirted quite harmlessly with Shilpa – all taken in good fun and lasting little more than a couple of minutes – and suddenly Cleo Rocos is dressed up as a tart and is literally hounding Dirk all over the house pretending to leer and paw at him. Poor Dirk was trying to sleep on the sofa when it first started – hassling nobody. Even when Dirk made it plain he’d had enough still Cleo continued, her whole stance quite aggressive. I’m very very disappointed in her. It seems that she has a nasty side too.

As far as Cleo was concerned she was teaching Dirk a lesson – if he can give it out he ought to be able to take it too.

Excuse me?! Who appointed Cleo – or anyone else for that matter – the arbiter of public morals in the BB house? What right has anyone got to “teach” another person “a lesson”? What arrogance!

My own theory is that Cleo fancies Dirk and is feeling rejected by his attention to Shilpa. After all, it was Dirk’s flirting with Shilpa which seemed to kick all this off. Shilpa however was fine about it – no one needed to teach Dirk a lesson on her behalf. If anything Shilpa was rallying around to support Dirk – trying desperately to deflect Cleo’s attention away from him and later sitting with Dirk in the garden to make sure he was ok.

Hmm. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, eh, Cleo?

Worse was to come though – the giggling, school girl bullies, Jo and Danielle, proving that they’ve learnt absolutely nothing from Jade’s eviction, were back guffawing into their pillows and making snidey comments with Cleo in the bedroom while Dirk tried to sleep later that night. Here we go all over a-bloody-gain.

I don’t know about anyone else – but this constant bullying (it happens EVERY BB series) is starting to leave a permanently nasty taste in my mouth. Are we really that malicious and spiteful as a species?

BB and my own life experience suggests that maybe we are. I’ve even witnessed similar bullying occur in the office where I work. Seemingly it’s commonplace.

Sigh. But it ain’t right.

A Mite Jaded

So the “BB racism row” (as it is currently known in tabloid land) reached a climax of sorts last Friday with Jade Goodey being evicted from the house in disgrace. Hurrah!

I must admit, seeing Jade emerge to a muted and silent reception and then face quite an uncomfortable and unforgiving interview by Davina McCall (well, unforgiving by Davina’s standards) gave me quite a bit of satisfaction... at the time.

Now though, having lived with it for a few days, read the news articles about it, watched the news storm run itself ragged on the TV, my overall feeling is one of deep dissatisfaction and frustration.

My main feeling is that Jade’s biggest crime is stupidity. She is the victim of a thoroughly rough and ropey upbringing by Jackiey which has left her completely ill-equipped to deal with ordinary people in the ordinary world let alone “celebrities” and the celebrity world. You want evidence? Her comments about Shilpa were indisputably racist yet even after having them played back to her she was still just too stupid – genuinely so – to see that they were racist; her argument running along the lines of: look, when I was stabbing Shilpa with the knife I didn’t actually mean it in a stabbing kind of way I was just being nasty... Oh. Well that makes it alright then. Dopey effing cow.

Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t about to turn into a defence of Jade. Far from it. She, Jo and Danielle are nasty, vicious, vacuous bullies. Certainly they are all guilty of exhibiting offensive, racist behaviour towards Shilpa but I can’t help feeling that they have in some way been unfairly hung out to dry by Big Brother. Isn’t the racist guilt of the nation being unjustly dumped on their doorsteps? They’ve become scapegoats just to make the rest of us feel righteous and that just isn’t right. All three certainly deserve a good telling off but do they really deserve the full mass of global derision and hatred that is currently pouring in against them (and God knows I’ve been guilty of producing some of it)?

Jade plainly can’t cope with it given the floods of tears she’s doused various interviewers with since her eviction. But while she certainly deserves to feel bad and cry some real tears of shame I don’t think she deserves to be spat at in the street or lynched or made public enemy number one. Her crime was ignorance. That can be resolved given time. The same with Jo and Danielle. I don’t like either of them but I don’t want to see them both run into the ground by baying mobs of thugs who are “enjoying the kill” a little too much for it to be healthy. It won’t solve the racism problems of this country. It’ll just make half the nation feel superior for about five minutes and then everything will just carry on as normal.

Look at it this way: does Shilpa want the lives of Jade, Jo and Danielle to be permanently ruined? Definitely not. And as she is the injured party I think the rest of us should take our lead from her.

That doesn’t mean ignoring the problems of racism and bullying that this incident has highlighted. Far from it. Let’s stop burning effigies in the street and get some positive, fruitful dialogue going please.

Lastly, I can’t help feeling that for all they didn’t put those words into the mouths of Jade, Jo and Danielle, Big brother is ultimately culpable for this whole debacle. It could have been and should have been nipped in the bud long before things got this serious. If BB is happy to step in and intervene when its own petty game rules are broken then it should have taken a more responsible attitude to the housemates generally – people who are effectively in their care – and stopped all this nastiness before it went a step too far. That would have sent out hugely positive signals to all who were watching that bullying and bigotry will not be tolerated by this society.

Instead, they did too little too late and it now appears that racism and all its ensuing fall-out is merely a branch of the entertainment industry.

That is not good.

Just Because It Amused Me...

Click on the image to get better quality...

All Work And No Play

I’m a victim of my own success (well, ain’t we all, luvie?) –

I’ve got so much web work coming in at the moment on top of my day job that I’m practically working 10 hour days... the consequence being that I’m either tired, grouchy, hyper-actively detached or, as is often the case, all three.

Karen very tactfully pointed out to me last night that it’s got to stop before I run myself into the ground. And she’s right too. I feel like I’ve hardly seen her or Ben over the last three weeks and I can’t recall the last time I didn’t feel like I was carrying a two tonne weight on my shoulders.

I need to get into the habit of better time management – placing R & R time a lot higher up the list than it currently is. After all, look at it this way: why should work get the best I have to offer when it leaves me with nothing for those I love?

I’m turning into a fat, balding workaholic. Accept I’m neither fat nor balding thankfully. And being a workaholic is the last thing I thought I’d ever be. I’m supposed to be a languorous Leo for heaven sake!

It’s time to kick back and have some fun!

Wild Ray

As a precursor to our Big Brother viewing last night Karen and I rather appropriately watched Ray Mears’ Wild Food on BBC2. We love Ray in our house. He seems to engender all that is warm and friendly and knobbly-kneed about Great British eccentrics. There is also the sneaking suspicion that as the world continues to go tits up with global warming and runaway pollution Ray’s teachings could one day become the basis for Western humanity’s survival on this beleaguered planet.

However despite Ray’s cheery smile and easy laughter I can’t help sensing an isolation about him. I guess it comes with the territory. Ray is “out there” some how. Detached. Separate. Mostly by choice I’d imagine given his penchant for going walkabout in the wilds with only his haversack for company. So is he a wandering mystic or just a weird anorak? You tell me?

One telling fact emerged on last night’s show however. Describing how to make string from the stem of a nettle plant Ray said he’d made the discovery whilst playing with nettles as a small boy.

Hmm. Despite his enviable survival knowledge, one can’t help thinking that perhaps Ray was a bit of a strange child with no friends and distant parents... such an upbringing would certainly have made me want to fashion harpoons out of deer antlers and willow branches, I can tell you.

Big Bother

Big Brother update:

I was thoroughly repulsed by Jade’s vile temper last night. But what really sickened me was watching Danielle and Jo stifling idiotic giggles behind the sofa cushions like immature school girls whilst Jade subjected Shilpa to a tirade driven purely by her own xenophobic misconceptions and class insecurities. What an absolutely horrible coven of witches. For the entire duration of Jade’s baboon-like rant I found myself willing someone – anyone – to fill a bowl up with water and tip it all over Jade’s orang-utan shaped head, anything to shut her up.

Shilpa impresses me more every day with the strength and dignity she is showing by putting up with this kind of behaviour and not letting it grind her down. The Force is strong in this one. Unfortunately the three evil witches are making me ashamed to be British. The only consolation I have is knowing that they’re going to get a right royal kicking from the public once they’re ejected from the house. That and the knowledge that their respective careers are in tatters.

Mind you, what careers? Jo’s done eff all since S-Club 7 (thank God). Danielle is a shamed beauty queen and footballer’s wife wannabe and Jade... well, Shilpa was right. Jade IS only famous for being on BB. That and being as thick as the proverbial whale omelette. The truth hurts doesn’t it, Jade? They are the three sorriest excuses for celebrity status I have ever come across since... well, since Leo Sayer really. And that’s saying something.

As for the hoo-ha that their bullying has since engendered. The BB production team is obviously lapping it up. It could all have been nipped in the bud long before it erupted into this huge global melee (protests in India? my God!) but I did like the fact they got Danielle into the Diary Room and asked her to explain what she meant when she said that Shilpa ought to "eff off back home". Her pained expression was joyous to behold. You could practically see the penny dropping.

Yep. That’s right, girl. You’re in the do-do. Big Time.

One final point: I find the sudden interest from politicians in all the issues currently thrown up by BB blatantly transparent. Talk about commandeering the bandwagon! I find it truly amazing that it took the UK Government days and days to formerly condemn the way Saddam Hussein was executed yet they can comment on BB with an immediacy that must have popped their stomach ulcers with the speed of Leo Sayer whipping his underpants into and out of a laundrette. I guess slagging of the inherent racism of white trash scum is politically far safer than daring to suggest that Saddam’s execution was handled badly and has got the West’s hands even dirtier...

X-Ray Vision

Despite still being laid low with an awful dose of this year’s variant of the flu virus Karen very kindly gave me a lift to the local hospital yesterday afternoon so I could keep my appointment with the highly esteemed foot specialist... regular readers of this blog will know of my recent foot problems; irregular readers can bone up here.

Cue half an hour of being sent one way and then the other due to an IT breakdown which meant the receptionists were reduced to using paper and high-lighter pen to impose some sort of order on the hordes of injured and diseased that were clamouring for palliative attention in front of their desks.

Cue half an hour of sitting in a waiting room that positively howled with the décor of an Eastern Block abattoir...

...until I was finally called into a radiation proof room to have my sorry-looking feet X-rayed from a multitude of various angles and uncomfortable positions.

Then we had another half an hour wait while the specialist looked at the resultant images before I was eventually called in to see him.

And the final diagnosis?

Well, certainly I have hallux valgus but the condition (at the moment) doesn’t warrant an operation of any kind or intervention aside from decent shoes and insoles. The pain I was in, dear people, was actually caused by the fact I’d had two broken bones in my foot! Bones that now – thankfully and miraculously given that I’ve been walking on them for the last 2 months – have healed quite nicely and knitted together very healthily.

Amazing. Especially as I also underwent 4 weeks of fairly rigorous physiotherapy not long after the foot injury first occurred.

No wonder it bloody hurt so much!

Anyway Karen’s being really sweet and says she feels bad that I didn’t get all the sympathy that I deserved at the time so is now intent on giving it to me belatedly.

Me? I’m gonna put my feet up and milk it for all it’s worth!

Pant Friction

News just in.

Apparently Quentin Tarantino is desperate to sign up Leo Sayer for his new movie: Pant Friction.

Early reports suggest that Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta have already agreed to play Leo’s turds...

Big Brother Quotes Of The Day 2

Jack: (after BB explained that all human embryos are female for the first few weeks of their existence) “What’s an envryo?” [sic]

Jade: after BB invited the housemates to submit a question that they’d always wanted to know the answer to, Jade came up with this corker - “How comes Eskimos don’t turn into human icey-cubes?” Even after being supplied with the answer Jade, like Jack, was still no wiser and requested that any Eskimos watching the show get in touch with her to explain things in more detail.

Jade, if you ever encountered an Eskimo he’d launch 5 harpoons into your back and be living off the blubber for the next 6 months. He’d also make a kayak out of your lips (and I am not referring to your kebab).


On another BB-centric note: I am not at all liking the bullying that Jo, Danielle and Jade are subjecting Shilpa to at the moment. This type of thing seems to occur every year... horrible little cliques striving to re-enact the Lord Of The Flies. Jo and Danielle are offensive in the extreme and have even been dipping their evil little toes into the rancid waters of racism. Meanwhile Jade is careering all over Shilpa's feelings like a tank being driven by a lobotomized chimpanzee... I’d like to see all three of them hoofed out of the house as soon as possible please.

Bloggertropolis Challenge

Courtesy of new Blog buddy, Old Cheeser, I have an interesting challenge for you all (should you choose to take it up, of course).

All you need to do is comment on this post and:

1. I'll respond with a random thought I have about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavour of jelly in which we can wrestle.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or so we think).
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what intoxicant you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your blog.

Give it a go! It's loadsa fun!

Russell Brand

Why do so many people rave about Russell Brand?

Personally I just can’t see it. Is it the moo-cow eyes? The pouty Barbie doll lips? The very carefully manufactured, teased and contrived bed-head hairdo? What?

The trouble with Russell is that it IS all so contrived. At one time, back in the early days, then yes, maybe the “just got out of bed hungovor” ineptitude was genuine. And maybe even charming because it was different – a little bit real, a little bit truly anarchic. A little bit “whoa”. A little bit “whoosh”.

But now it is just OTT and fake. Russell has become his own caricature and his stream-of-unconsciousness burblings just grate on my nellies like Leo Sayer in my bathtub with a loofah. Urgh. And just as nightmarish. I can’t believe Russell gets paid vast amounts of money for his poorly articulated enunciations and slack-jawed observations. If I want to listen to a pisshead then I’ll go down to my nearest boozer thank you very much and get wasted myself. I don’t want to see him on my telly being paid huge amounts of money for flapping his tongue about in a cocaine fuelled daze and running about with legs like 2 broken mop handles.

But hey. Maybe I’m missing the joke?

Maybe I ought to style my blog after Russell Brand’s style of sub-literary delivery?

“Yeah so this is my blog right and it’s great and all that so why don’t you log on and read some stuff if you want to – you don’t have to read all of it even though it’s all probably really good, no it is – yeah so you do have to read all of it actually cos that’s why I’m plugging it ain’t I and I talk about lots of things that are interesting and topical and oh yeah I’ve shagged 2000 women though not all at once obviously cos that would be like really amazing wouldn’t it and I’d be dead or something...”

Russell you must have shares in rohypnol cos you surely didn’t get them into bed by chatting them up…

Pants

Can’t deny it. I feel absolutely pants today. I’m suffering from a raging head cold and all its many accoutrements. All of which seem to be disgustingly snot based.

However, I bet I’m feeling a lot better than dopey dwarf, Leo Sayer, who comically slit the throat of his own already poorly career yesterday (surely a case of euthanasia?) by evacuating himself, little poo stylee, from the Big Brother house in high dudgeon all because BB refused to supply him with a clean pair of underpants.

Leo it seems refused to wash his own underpants on camera because it was “degrading”.

Hmm. It’s only degrading, Leo, if your grundies are horrifically spattered with turd-stains, haemorrhoid cream or spunk.

Or all three, of course.

Hmm. Is there anything you wish to come clean about, Mr Sayer?

Apparently not.

Not on camera anyway…

Bug

The January lurgy is upon us.

I left Karen ill in bed when I dragged myself valiantly into work this morning. Valiantly because I too am slowly succumbing to the virus that is currently decimating my office. The place is littered with empty seats draped with gooey tissues and drying snot. Supplies of paracetamol are running dangerously low.

Everywhere about me I can hear the barking of inflamed throats and congested lungs, the perpetual sniffle of running noses.

In my mind’s eye I imagine the lurgy bacteria floating about the office like a horde of evil faeries. Every one of them has Leo Sayer’s face.

That is how I know I am sick.

Citizen 1000

No, not some grotesque Orwellian identity tagging system but the latest scheme being run by BBC Coventry & Warwickshire. The new in-thing is User Generated Content and the BBC are leading the way (or at least catching up quite nicely) by launching the Citizen 1000 project and recruiting Citizen Journalists from across the local area to provide material and stories to be broadcast in one form or another on their radio stations, their TV programmes and their web site.

In other words, for some opinionated little oik like me – an absolute gold rush!

I went along to the induction evening yesterday and was gratified to see that, despite my visions of thousands turning up (thus ruining my elitist pretensions), there were only 12 of us at this evening’s event – and quite a nice bunch of people too.

The staff at the Beeb were incredibly warm and friendly and first impressions suggest that the Beeb would be a great place to work. Of course, I have no doubt that every other Citizen Journalist is going to be thinking along the same lines as me – “Ok, this might be voluntary work at first but who knows where it might lead...? It could be a foot in the door to BBC stardom!”

I expect the chances of that are in actuality extremely slim and, indeed, the BBC is making no promises along those lines at all. What they did say was that they were exceedingly open to any stories or ideas we may have and provided we followed their basic guidelines for content we’d stand a good chance of seeing our stuff broadcast on one of the Beeb’s many local services. All of which would look most impressive on the old CV.

Hence nothing to lose. Everything to gain.

All I need now is a story.

Hmm. Wonder if Cleo Rocos would be up for an interview...?

Beeb And Boobs

Beeb because I’m off to the BBC HQ in Coventry tonight, there to undergo my induction into the BBC’s highly vaunted Citizen Journalist programme. Yes, yours truly has been selected to be one of the BBC’s on-the-street unpaid reporters... me and 5000 others no doubt. But hey it’s a toe in the door and who knows where such an opportunity might lead?

My own radio show – Blake On The Beeb?
My own TV show – Blake On The Box?

Who knows!

And Boobs just because I’m completely mesmerized by the lovely Cleo Rocos on Big Brother. She’s worn very well, bless her, and still has the va-va-voom that filled my burgeoning pubescent thoughts with bouncy naughtiness. To top it all she’s genuinely a very lovely person too. Definitely still my favourite to win. Bookie’s favourite, Leo Sayer, on the other hand has fast turned into the most grumpy gnome in the garden centre and won’t last the distance in my humble opinion.

Hey maybe I could have my own radio show with the lovely Cleo? – Blake On The Boob?

The TV show title could stay as it is, I guess.

(All meant in the best possible taste...)

Big Brother Quotes Of The Day

Jermaine, referring to Shilpa's courageous attempts to get her relationship with Jackiey Goody onto a more diplomatic footing: "You can't reason with stupidity." - Positively zen, mate.

Jade, in a split second nullifying the last 200 years of scientific advancement: "Nobody knows how high the sky is do they? I mean, does it go on and on forever?" - Geez, you'd think NASA would have taken a slide rule or some sort of measuring device with them on one of their many space missions...

Rough As A Badger’s Arse

Despite staunch attempts not to let Big Brother commandeer my entire blog I find myself compelled yet again to compose another BB related entry.

All my snobby affectations are now thoroughly undercut. It’s official. I’m as hooked on BB as anybody else, admittedly for the sole purpose of sneering at the moral / social / intellectual ineptitude of other people, but hooked nonetheless.

And my God, talking of intellectual ineptitude on a grand scale… we now have the Goody’s in the Big Brother house. Alas not the 1970’s gibbon-esque funky funsters fronted by grumpy old twitcher, Bill Oddie, but Jade Goody and her slack-jawed boyfriend and her cosmetically unslack-boobed mother.

Effing hell and I thought Jade was bad. Jade (a voice that can strip paint at 400 yards and the cranial capacity of a used tissue) is a white trash Carol Vorderman when compared to her gravel-gobbed mother. Ma Goody is as rough as the proverbial badger that’s had a 40lb backpack strapped to its shoulders and been made to slide arse-first down a 250 metre waterslide lined with broken glass. Even poor Jermaine – usually so comatose his fellow housemates are wondering if BB brought in his Madame Tussaud’s waxwork by mistake – was so horrified by the Goody invasion that he considered leaving the BB house. Presumably very quietly and deferentially by the front door as opposed to rebelliously and spontaneously like Donny ‘Dorko’ who basically legged it up a drainpipe and over the roof Prisoner Cell Block H stylee. What a punk. Good man.

And if you thought Jade’s ma was gravelly at the top end that’s nothing to the foghorn-leghorn bugling that erupted from her kebab regions the first night in. I swear to God Jermaine turned white (Michael must have been green with envy). Shilpa must be wondering what scummy planet she’s crash landed on.

Ken Russell, however, seems to be taking it all in his stride. I guess there are benefits to being senile and having one foot in the grave. Bet you any money he’s planning a remake of his 1988 film The Lair Of The White Worm with Ma Goody reprising Amanda Donahoe’s role as Lady Sylvia Marsh…

Just hope they cut all the nude scenes… bleeurgh!

Big Brother? Who’s Bothered?

Very unwisely I tuned in to the launch of the new Celebrity Big Brother last night. Within minutes I wished that I hadn’t... and yet continued watching.

Just what IS the pull of this damned show? It’s like it exudes some form of electronic monosodium glutamate that keeps everyone going back for more no matter how sick of it we all are. That and the fact you can’t join in work conversations the next day unless you have the complete breakdown of the ridiculous BB events that occurred the night before.

Christ but they're a rum bunch of has-beens this year. Ken Russell looks like he’s suffering from dementia. Jermaine Jackson looked bewildered and totally freaked out by his housemates (you’d think he’d feel right at home really). And Danielle Lloyd thought that Winston Churchill was America’s first president. Geez-us!

The only housemate who gets my vote is Cleo Rocos. Mainly because I used to love the Kenny Everett Show as a kid and during its hey-day I developed a huge soft spot for Cleo. Well a huge hard spot actually. There is something about Cleo Rocos that is just made for skimpy French maid outfits. Well, there are two things about her really. Oh! Enough of this prurient banter!

Anyway the thing that has appalled me most is that Leo Sayer has been tipped as the bookies favourite. Leo frigging Sayer?!? Come on! He is the most annoying man on the planet. He has the most annoying hairstyle on the planet. He’s modelled himself on a 1970’s variety show microphone. He’s about as cool as ordering Saddam Hussein eyeball soup at a Sunni Muslim convention. Just check out the cover to one of his God-awful albums above. I mean pleeeeease. The only thing that pleases me about this picture is that I can easily imagine a shotgun wielding maniac off-camera at the bottom of the picture emptying both barrels into Leo’s midgety little guts and blasting him bodily up against the ceiling.

Yeah. Now I feel like dancin’...

Shoe-horn

First day back at work today but thankfully, due to half the staff still being off, it’s been a very laid back affair. Nothing too strenuous has arisen and I’ve been able to ease myself slowly and painlessly back into my civil servant’s role. Ah it fits just like a glove. Or even an old shoe. And I think that’s what disturbs me most of all. The terrifying ease of it. Especially when normally I’d be almost neurotic about proclaiming how I don’t fit this job at all and need to get out of it to do something far more creative.

I guess I shouldn’t worry too much. This current cosiness seems to typify any return to work after a long period of absence for me... it’s akin to that relief one feels when things don’t turn out as bad as you imagined they would. Yes my job is crap but it could be a lot worse and usually is. At least today there’s an atmosphere of kindliness and good humour swirling about the place. I dare say that will quickly dissipate once full normality is resumed and my sense of dissatisfaction will no doubt sharpen and harden itself in direct correlation.

It would be nice if this year is comprised of a few more of the creative successes that apostrophised last year. Certainly I’ve got an intriguing evening lined up in Coventry next week courtesy of the BBC. I’ve been chosen to be one of the Beeb’s Citizen Journalists and I have to attend a 2 hour induction on the 10th where I shall no doubt receive positive instruction on how to find further outlets for the unending stream of codswallop that continually pours from my pen and keyboard.

I bet you can hardly wait.

Happy New Year one and all.