End Of Year Arse-Wipe

Like my natural propensity for forgiveness, blogging hasn’t come easy this year. I’ve struggled. Not so much with ideas or subject matter – there is always some kind of fat that my mind is chewing over – but with inclination; the desire to write and by writing, sharing. “I can’t be bothered,” are the 4 most common (non)spoken words that the little voice inside my soul has thrown out at me this year. Can’t be bothered. And if I did write something who would be bothered to read it? Is it worth my time and effort? Will anybody miss it if I don’t write about it. Will anyone miss me if I overdose on Yorkie bars right now and drive my metaphorical 18 wheeler off the petty minded cliff edge of social media?

This is a bit of a turn around. When I first started writing this blog back in the heady days of 2006 my answer to most of the above questions would have been, “of course no one will miss it if I don’t write about it; of course they won’t miss me, mad fools that they are; and no, no-one really will be bothered to read anything at all that I write BUT I don’t care, I want to write it so I shall – if nothing else it will entertain me.”

And therein lies the problem, I fear. I am no longer entertaining myself. But like a starving tramp scouring the floor for dropped popcorn I still feel a duty to turn up at the theatre just in case I find a hot dog.

To be honest the last half of 2014 has been so unremittingly crap I haven’t wanted to write. I haven’t wanted to engage with the stuff that has been happening. Couple that with an estranged relative who has quite viciously taken against me and this here blog and feels I have no right to write about things that directly affect me if they also happen to affect her and has basically condemned my outpourings here as a feeble minded attempt to garner sycophantic approval from a bunch of faceless, equally needy and nerdy peers and you have the recipe for a perfect storm. Or at least a very wet weekend which makes you not want to get out of bed or do anything very exciting at all.

If I was in any way consistent I would stop writing. I would stop this blog and disappear.

But I can’t. I can’t quite give in. Instead I fudge and mither. I seek a halfway house. I try and instigate a cotton-wool rebellion. Softly softly not quite catchy monkey. I throw a hand grenade but make sure nobody is around to get hurt before I pull out the pin. This is not the spirit in which this blog was bathed at its inauguration.

But there you go. Older and wiser and all that. Certainly a darn sight more tired.

And a darn sight more underhand. For a very brief rundown of current events do visit here (most of you who are regular readers will find you have the correct access rights)… the general hoi polloi, however, will be unable to follow.

Sorry for the cloak and dagger stuff but some of it is quite sensitive and I really don’t want to be dealing with the inevitable fall-out from Estranged Relative (who is like the Argentinian Government to my blog’s quite innocent car registration number*).

Not sure if that makes me Jeremy Clarkson or Richard Hammond. Probably more likely to be James May.

So, going into 2015 there is some major booty that needs kicking (or otherwise dealing with). In the midst of all that though there might be the off-chance of acquiring a flattering girdle which may offer an attractive backdrop to some of life’s more sombre moments. But, like helium, so much of it is up in the air at the moment that it’s just not worth buying the balloon until things become more definite.

I will, however, try and reinvest this blog with a little more spirit and vigour in 2015. I will try and reclaim it for myself and go hang the dissenters. Because, maybe, just maybe, life it too short not to.

*Or possibly even the Mel B to my chirpy Micky Flanagan...

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.