Purple Patch

Rings Everywhere...

2004-01-19T16:26:00.000Z

Steady, nothing like that.

On Saturday night I went to see Lord of the Rings - Return of the King for the second time. I enjoyed it so much the first time around but it was a mistake to see it again. Once you take away the grandeur of the spectacle then my excessively critical mind begins to take over. The first time I was insulated against the effect by the splendor, this time however there were holes in it you could push a rhinoceros powered battering ram through:

1. Theoden, King of Rohan is in fact Bill Bailey, famous keyboard botherer and funny bloke. This presented an insurmountale obsticle to taking it all seriously.

2. All the hobbits come from the shire. THis is fine, it's a small village like place. Why then are there two americans, one with the worst west-country/country bumpkin accent in the world ever (Sam Gamgee) and one scottish one. THis doesn't seem like rocket science. It's the shire, not London, a mix of accents doesn't amke any sense...

3. Aragorn sings at his own corronation. Now this isn't a problem to me, I think that's ace. I think we ought to do the same thing here, when Prince Charles becomes King Charles III I look forward to him doing an accapella version of 'Jerusalem' or somesuch.

4. Liv Tyler plays Arwen, one of the greatest, most beautiful beings in all of Middle Earth, yet she has an over-bite from hell. The Elves have three rings of power yet no cosmetic surgeons... there's a gap in the market, as well as between the top and bottom teeth.

5. The film is billed as being three hours 20 minutes long. Yet it started at 7.30 and finished at 10.30, where did the extre 20 minutes go? I don't remember anything being cut, so obviously it's jsut a lie to make you think it's more epic than it actually was. Or more likely, they realised that everyone would start looking at their watches after Aragorn's coronation, realise that the last hour is the wrapping up of the saga and so, noting it takes another hour to finsih, would think they'd got more they actually wanted to watch then they actually did!

6. When the Rohirrim form up on the crest of the hill before engaging the enemy on the plains of Minas Tirith (all 40,000 of them in spite of Bill Bailey saying he could only find 6,000 - that's managing expectations for you), they can see everything between the river and the city, yet within a matter of minutes they've been engaged in the rear by eight 60 foot tall monsters (Oiliphants) with howdas on their backs and drums and stuff. Why didn't they notice these before?Why, when Bill was giving out the orders didn't he tell one flank to "Just keep an eye on those big fuckers over there"? Perhaps they were covered with an enormous tarpaulin and no-one noticed them... I just think that a light cavalry army would have better scouting capabilities.

And don't even start me on Light cavalry engaging the enemy to the front... madness I tell you! Madness!!

7. I don't remember the undercurrent of a homo-erotic affair going on between Merry and Pippin "Will you look after me?" "I'll always look after you" ... and regularly plough you in the ass etc etc.

Hopefully that will have sapped all the joy out of it for you too.

Another thing

2004-01-15T09:56:00.000Z

How does Doctor Doom shave? He can't take his mask off cos it's stuck to his face, so why isn't there a long beard sticking out beneath his tin face?

God loves you

2004-01-12T14:27:00.000Z

Now I know that evangelists are a bit of a stock Blog subject, everyone covers them at one point or another, but unfortunately for those of you hoping for something a little bit more original, this is my occasion.

The reason for this is that over the weekend no less than three took it upon themselves to try to convert me to the right and proper path!

The first was actually on Saturday when I went to visit Simon and Charlotte for drinks in Brixton. Since an evening of mild debauchery was planned I found it rather distressing that while waiting outside Brixton Station a big, frightening black man walked up to me with eyes wide and crazy and announced that a little sin could ruin a lot of righteousness. I couldn't help but be pleased at how little effort it took to undo all the self indulgent righteousness of those destined to be saved...

The second was ever more insidious, on Sunday early afternoon I was at home, enjoying the peace and quiet of everyone else being out when a knock was heard at my door. I assumed that this was one of the old people who live in the same building complaining about some major transgression one of us had committed inadvertently. On the contrary, when I opened the door I was met by a couple with similarly mad, staring eyes (if I were in charge of evangelists, I'd get them all some contact lenses to cover their off-putting gaze. They'd be much more successful) who told me they'd popped round to talk to me about the scriptures. Now this isn't they first time this has happened, once when I lived in Walthamstow with Vee a pair of Jehova's Witnesses popped round to tell me about the scriptures and I kept them talking for 50 minutes on the door step about how they can possibly claim to have a true version of the bible as opposed to any other sect and talked them through the minutiae of the founding of the Christian church and the various councils of Nicea and Chalcedon and the politics motivating them. They finally made their excuses and left, looking far less certain of their faith than they were when they arrived. They never came back. Sundays were met rather with a somewhat brusque "I'm sorry but I don't think that would be relevant" as though they were offering me golf club membership rather than salvation of my immortal soul.

The final one was encountered on the way to meet Shaun and George for coffee and drinks and suchlike, the famous scouse evangelist with the patter of "why be a sinner when you can be a winner" now I won't dwell on the conversation I was forced into having with him since it follows much the same lines. Suffice to say that when I mentioned in the office that I'd encountered him I was told that he'd been featured in Front Magazine a couple of months ago. Which is certainly the place to find sinners.

That said in spite of the attention of the godly all weekend I reverted to type as soon as I met up with Shaun and George, since George is one of the most beautiful boys on earth and I spent all evening coveting my neighbours ass.*

(*cheap gag to close, no extra charge)

Advancing boldly into the future

2004-01-05T12:32:00.000Z

Well, more sauntering vaguely into 2004 really. But before we throw ourselves wholeheartedly into the new year let's pause to look back at 2003 with the degree of interest it deserves.

Career: Well, 2003 was the year I finally got around to leaving Carat and moving to climates new (which means starting at ZenithOptimedia in Paddington), all in all a good move I think, I'm certainly more interested in what I'm doing, though I have so far managed to cause one resignation in the 5 weeks I've been here...
So 7 for effort 6 for attainment.

Health: A great year for me as far as health was concerned, finally got the all clear in December for the end to the blood trauma which had been ongoing since March 2002, no major relapses at all! The HIV scare of late August, early September was not fun, and kind of ruined my holiday, but all was well in the end so that was good news. Finally, and most remarkably I've joined a gym and actually still going to it! Such a thing hasn't happened since the heady days of 2000... I even went this morning to put a line in the sand for 2004.
8 for effort, 10 for attainment.

'Relationships': Anyone who didn't realise that by that I mean Sex can just go and stand in the corner with a dunces cap on... Actually though this year has not seen the sexual onslaught which has accompanied the previous 3 years. When I did my tally I could only count 17 new warm bodies this year. Although there are many who would consider that a fairly high number, 2000-2002 each saw a shag count in the 35-50 bracket. So what went wrong in 2003? Well the possible causes have been examined:

Have i got less good looking? Not as far as I can tell.

Have I been settled down and in a relationship? Apart from the 2 months of Stevi in the summer then no, I really haven't.

Have I been less cheap? Now this is the crunch factor. I just haven't been slutting myself around as much as in previous years. Not for me the old approach of dancing on the stage in G-A-Y and finding some pretty young thing to touch. In fact those shags I have had have a more than evens chance of becoming friends... This year has seen Alex and Dr Cook, Nick, Shaun G, Zak and others becoming friends from the humble beginnings of just being shags. By comparison 2002, which had a much higher number of shags actually only saw 3 make it through the cut to friendship: PJ, Lord Binding and Aiden. Maybe in 2004 I should start considering how to convert shags into relationships... Which is more tricky.

Anyway, 'Relationships' 4 for effort, 5 for attainment - must do better!

Finally,
Wealth: Um, earning more, spending more. No richer at all... Poorer than a church mouse in fact. Bugger.
1 effort, 1 attainment.

Giving us the grand score of 20/40 for the whole year. 50%. A 2.2 degree. Not bad 2003, hopefully 2004 can show a marked improvement.

Thinking about stuff

2003-12-30T12:59:00.000Z

Which is, as we know, always a risky business.

I've watched a few films recently. As those of you who know me will be aware, I rarely watch films, because I lack the attention span and can generally think of better things to do, usually boys and inappropriate touching. But recently I've seen not only Lord of the Rings, Return of the King, but also the second half of Star Wars Episode 1 - The Phantom Menace. There was a running theme through both of these movies, which is of course 'fight scenes'.

Now on one hand LotR does it very well and Phantom Menace does them badly, but both have the same somewhat over-choreographed feel which involves one or both parties whirling round in an energetic manner which means they spend more time with their backs to their opponent than looking at them. Now I'm all in favour of exciting and energetic battles, but what kind of a buffoon puts their back to a horde of angry creatures/opponents with pointy stabbing devices? It just seems foolhardy. In fact it just seems bizarre. If I were them, I'd be delighted to engage in some fancy sword play, but only if it involved keeping them in front of me. Then all I'd need to do is to wait until they get carried away and started whirling round like a dervish then stab them in the back.

Maybe I'm not heroic enough.

Video Killed the Radio Star

2003-12-29T11:37:00.000Z

Which can only be a good thing, all things being considered. Who needs radio stars anyway?

How was your Christmas? Mine was good, lots of lovely people, and the Dr and Mrs Cooks didn't leave until I beat them at Monopoly on Boxing Day night at 7pm. Lunch was fantastic, and I'd definitely recommend the confit of duck again... delicious, and the easiest thing I've made for many a day. impressed the hoi-poloi too.

Last night I stayed at Lord Binding's house, which was quite traumatic for me, since it's been a long time since I spent a night outside zone one. Nice house though, and I did end up engaged in a competitive jigsaw making contest... he won, completing his stoats before I managed to finish my cute-fluffy kittens... It's the high life for me let me tell you! Part of my evening however was spent watching Smash Hits television, enjoying the poof music - Liberty X and lots of X-tina. But then it all came down to Brittney Spears - and what a come down. I desperately wanted to like the new BS record, she's easily the most rock and roll of the Micky Mouse Club graduates (Britney, Justin, X-tina), with drinking and smoking and rock star shags just everywhere! But the new record was jsut so phenominally drab as to be forgetable. Therefore please be upstanding for teh Jay Gallagher list of people Britney should collaborate with in order to regain her career:

1. Metallica. Out rock all and sundry, balls to "I Love Rock n Roll" give us "Enter Sandman" instead.

2. Isaac Hayes. Stripped down, slinky uber-funk with the granddaddy of cool.

3. My mobile phone. Does everything tunefully, even to the extent of harmoniously informing me the battery has gone.

4. Georgie Fame. Looks like a geography teacher, could keep the little minx in line, then swing on the old hammond organ...

5. Cliff Richard. She needs to find God and a collostomy-bag wearing closet poof is the best way I can think of.

6. Madonna. Actually ,that's a dreadful idea, since she's just Britney squared. Ooops!

Christmas Eve

2003-12-24T11:57:00.000Z

And all through the house, not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse...

Which is an out and out lie, because I've recently discovered that our kitchen is full of moths... I had an old box which a bottle of Drambuie Cream came in, it had been sitting in the kitchen for a while and last night I decided to throw it out... Before doing so I opened it and three moths flew out, inside were their cocoons, so now I have an infestation, just in time for Christmas...

Went to Waitrose at a stupid time in the morning, was there by 8am, the worst thing about that trip being the smell of the deli counter as I walked in, normally I love it, but having been awake for less than 30 minutes the smell of garlic sausage and suchlike was quite overwhelming, and I had to hurry through the store, stopping only for Highland Game Pate with Hawthorne Jelly and Sloe Gin... The devil is, as ever, in the details.

Complements of the season.

A Question

2003-12-22T09:27:00.000Z

If the Hapsburg Empire was based on Austria plus Hungary, Galicia, Bohemia and the northern Balkans, and the British Empire included India, Australia, Canada and much of Africa, what does the Shepherds Bush Empire include? I know Shepherds Bush has two tube stations (which is a trifle greedy), but is this indicative of territorial ambitions hitherto unsuspected? Should White City be put on a state of alert? Or Hammersmith? Or even Holland Park?

I am now very concerned about the territorial ambitions of W12, so be vigilant my people, be vigilant!

Europe's Biggest Hair

2003-12-19T10:22:00.000Z

Is, unfortunately perched on the top of my head today... Hair so massive that a whole tribe of badgers (do badgers actually live in tribes? I realised that I have no idea what the collective noun for badgers actually is... a stripe? a snuffle? I actually think that we should be talking about a Grouch of Badgers... Whether this is true or not I really don't care it's true now!) could remain lost for days, possibly without even meeting one another... Thank God Almighty I'm having it cut tomorrow, maybe I should get Christmas dyed hair - stripes, or squiggles everywhere - or is that gayness above and beyond the call of duty?

Upon re-reading what I wrote above I realised that in all the time I've been blogging I've never explained The Badger Scale, which is used for measuring a volume of hair. The origins of this are lost in the mists of time, but the idea is that hair is measured based on the number of badgers one could lose in it. For example, I know that at the beginning of the haircut month i have hair of only one or maybe two badgers, and at the end I'm pushing six badger hair.

This is not, however, a fool proof system. When i first met the lovely Lord Binding (you know the story, there's no need to go into it again here, but there was a train involved) he did ask about the system of using half badgers... a problematic one, since if you can only hide half a badger then that means that either there is a 'cruelty to badgers' charge to be made, due to the savage slicing into halves of several cuddly brocks, or you are in fact not hiding any badgers, since the un-hidden second half reveals the presence.

It was at this point that we realised we needed to have sub-units of badgers: but what to choose?

Stoats were suggested and seemed like a good idea, one gets about 10 stoats to the badger and so there is a healthy metric conversion available - no one wants to measure hair in old money after all.

It was at this point that the pesky animal welfare people got involved - the standardisation of stoats has been frowned upon, though ,I would guess, not as much as the sawing in half of more badgers to satisfy the needs of a hair-obsessed public.

So we have reached an impasse.

Tragic isn't it?

I've been around

2003-12-16T09:56:00.000Z

Which is my excuse for having not updated for over a week. Actually, I've been stuck in the charming offices of ZenithOptimedia, and I thought that, as a new boy, I should spend more time actually working than I do updating my blog. Such a blasphemy would never have occurred to me when I was at Carat.

So, I had a big weekend then - Suede gig on Friday night, Lovely Nick on Saturday and the tree decoration party on Sunday - phew, no wonder I'm now a man with an irritating cold! I shall deal with each of those in turn:

Dog Man Star took a suck on a pill.

Suede played their farewell gig in London this weekend. Unfortunately that was on Sunday, so I went to the penultimate one, which was in Brixton Academy on Friday night. Now I've now seen Suede three times, once in their pomp in 1994 at the Albert Hall, once in their decline, in 2002 at the Shepherds Bush Empire and now once at their swansong in Brixton - you only have to look a the different post-codes involved to see how the mighty have fallen. From Knightsbridge to Brixton in only 9 years.

Let's be fair though, it's probably about time they were finally surprised, the last two albums were ghastly, with only occasional memorable tracks, and a man of almost-40 should really have realised that he's much too old to still be wearing a black t-shirt two sizes too small.

That said it was a fantastic show, and although I was very tired and overworking I had a marvelous time.

I didn't however go to the orgy I had been invited to later in the evening. This is even after having packed various "accoutrements" of sexual deviance in my bag and then had my bag searched when I got into the venue... Very embarrassing. I told myself that I was far too tired, and having bounced around like a twat for almost two hours, far too sweaty and smelly to really be fun to play with. When I finally got home and lay awake for most of the night as the Red-Bull I'd drunk early in the evening kept me awake, I really resented myself, and no amount of masturbation could reduce that.

Lovely Nick.

Is still one of Europe's prettiest people. This is in my opinion, PJ thinks that he's quite bland looking (though that's just because he always disapproves of people prettier than him) and Clare thinks he looks like Peter Andre... Which he doesn't! Absolutely not! Vee and Kirst and I all think he's lovely though so we can leave it at that.

Let's just identify that he reduced a lot of the post-not-going-to-the-orgy tension.

I've been to a Marvelous Party
I must say the fun was intense, we all had to do what that people we knew would be doing a hundred years hence".

Well actually I didn't. I hosted a Christmas tree decorating party on Sunday night, all in all, it was a success. When inviting people I was asked what the plan was, I told them: "We start at about 4-ish... People come along, filled with festive cheer, bringing baubles and maybe a bottle of booze of some description, there's music, and jollity, and fun japes with tinsel. Then when people are pissed enough to think it's funny we start to decorate the tree... People get competitive, there's a fight, the tree goes over, everyone trashes the flat the we kick you all out by 10, when you realise that you're already broken and can't find your way back to Marylebone!" I was very pleased to notice that, apart from the competitiveness all more or less happened as predicted: Our start time was indeed 4-ish, there was a little festive cheer, but not too much (such a thing would be vulgar), having already gagged and bound Ben with cling film, much to the surprise of the non-pervy people there, who assumed that the humble sandwich wrap was only good for stopping your cheese and tomato sarnie going crispy round the edges, from 8.30 until quarter to ten I spent my time on the street trying to resolve a tearful fight of the "You don't love me" variety between Peej and Ben, finally having packed them off, I got back to the flat, found that most of my guests had buggered off, went to bed, got up in the morning to find that not only had Marcel failed to kick out the last of the revellers at 10 (closer to 2), but someone had obviously knocked over the tree since all the hard work at tasteless gaud had simply turned into a bedraggled pile of shit!

Same again next year?

Gaydar user in the news

2003-12-05T15:20:00.000Z

Or so it would seem. Apparently the world's oldest penis has been found. This antique appendage is approximately 485 million years old.

About the same age as most of the Gaydar correspondents I reject...

There may be trouble ahead

2003-12-05T14:54:00.000Z

Well, it's December, nearly Christmas (or Yule if you're the sort of militant atheist which occasionally dips a toe into the hubbub of my social circle - which beggars the question of "Why?" since Yule is a religious festival too, just an older religion), or, as we used to refer to it in my days working on Dior "Party Season". Which means that essentially I'm knackered! I used to be able to do this for months on end: The cycle of going out, being glamourous and witty, drinking too much, occasionally bringing home some unidentifiable, cute young man, then going to work and doing it all again. But no longer! OK, so I've started a new job and just had a couple of fairly big weeks as it goes, but having been out for a few glasses of bubbly with the Kirst last night, I'm pooped. I was home by 10.30! There is no excuse for this dreadful undercurrent of deadness! But I'm busy all over again for the next few weeks, next week I'm not going out on Monday, but other than that every night is a sleep free festival of fun! I simply can't take the pace any more, so instead I'm just going to stay in bed with a hot water bottle and glower at anyone having fun.

It's so nice to have made a decision.

Odd feeling

2003-12-03T14:08:00.000Z

Being new. I suddenly realise I don't have any friends and have to make my own entertainment at lunchtime... Very odd... I've spent 3 months of frenetic lunching and now I'm stuck out in Paddington with no little friends to lunch with... So I'm Blogging from my new Mountain Fastness. Osama Bin Laden has nothing on me! Not even my bestest friends can find me.

Fortress Marylebone

2003-12-01T22:36:00.000Z

Started my new job today, and what have we learned? Well we've finally had confirmation that I'm really not suited to being the new boy... I find it very difficult indeed, having to be nice to people, and not cut them dead with a glance when they say something I don't find particularly funny (most things). But hey ho, this is what we set ourselves up for.. I'm sure it's good for my soul (it's good for my bank balance if nothing else). This means that since it was my first day I considered that I perhaps ought not to be obviously wasting time by writing my blog. This means I have to do it from fortress Marylebone which is frankly eating into the time which could otherwise be spent downloading porn and masturbating.

I also felt that having Gaydar open during the day would be inappropriate as well, and that has far more serious consequences for my 'social life'.

Innocent until proven guilty.

Was in Piccadilly Circus yesterday at about 5pm, and what did I happen upon, but a Pro Michael Jackson rally. I know, I was quite shocked myself - Gary Glitter didn't get a rally when he was accused of kiddy-fiddling, Jonathan King did everything he possibly could to get one for himself, but really no-one cared, and knew he'd done it anyway. Now to me Michael Jackson seems as guilty as sin (and I know a thing or two about sin), but still he had placards. That said, the quality of the crowd which turned out was somewhat meagre. I hesitate to use the term 'dregs of society' but it really is appropriate. There were more skin complaints in one place than I've seen for a very long time... The best bit however was when some of them put down the placards reading "If you handcuff Michael Jackson you handcuff humanity" and decided to do Jacksonesque dance moves to Billy Jean... Seemed a lot of groping themselves and then pointing at people, hardly inspiring stuff. The discord created when they all tried to sing along to the high notes could have shattered titanium.

I did get confused though when I saw a sign saying "Jackson Savaged by Mad Dog Sneddon" apparently the special prosecutor is called Sneddon, rather than the mental image which kept me amused: that of Fame Academy winner David Sneddon sinking hi teeth into Michael's pasty white thigh. Which is what got him into trouble in the first place!!!

Jxxx

My Fame Is Assured!!!

2003-11-27T10:21:00.000Z

Today is my last day at Carat, and my glory has been assured! Opening my copy of campaign this morning I saw my first media industry accolade... I am quoted many times as a "Communications Planning Director" as my Anchor strategy won Strategy of the Week. Ah, Carat will miss me! hehehe

Just bought a new phone

2003-11-25T15:36:00.000Z

Which is nice... It's a beautiful Sony Ericsson thing, but I get it delivered tomorrow... Apparently I get a free DVD player with it, so there's another new technology given a boost...

Filthy Adverts

2003-11-17T10:49:00.000Z

Which is kind of ironic, considering that that's how I earn my daily crust... But I've noticed of late that ads have been getting substantially more sexual.

The enormous naked, sweaty man wearing only his ck pants near Centre point has been noted in this August website previously, but I saw today a toothpaste poster in which cum shots hare referenced. No less a luminary of the toothpaste sector than McCleans has a picture of a woman's mouth with a thick, translucent, grey/white liquid dripping down her chin. This is surely a step too far, though maybe they have some research that says that after women have had cum in their mouths they absolutely have to run and clean their teeth... Which can only be a mood breaker in my opinion.

In a vacuum, no one can hear you blog

2003-11-13T15:52:00.000Z

I have a suspicion that no one is reading this any more... If you still bother, comment, if not, then I'll just give it up and go home.

I am the monkey

2003-11-10T12:03:00.000Z

Well, actually, I'm not, that was just to confuse, and perhaps to bring a a little shiver of pleasure to those of you familiar with the workings of Weebl and Bob, a pleasure to which I have only recently been introduced (thanks to Lee and Alex for separately introducing it to me within the same week as each other).

So here I am, back in the office having experienced the pleasure this weekend of visiting my darling family, which actually wasn't bad at all, even my grandmother telling me that she'd be prepared to bet I had a girlfriend in the background, I told her that I would bet anything she wanted that there wasn't. She went quiet for a bit, then before I left my grandad told me that he hoped I'd find a nice girl, because they didn't want any "batchelors" in the family... Oh well, they'll be dead soon I guess.

Marylebone Calling

2003-11-06T11:43:00.000Z

Hello! I speak to you now, not from our usual studio in the big, blue Tower of Death that is Parker Tower, but instead from the rarefied environments of my own home. Not since I reported on the happenings of my holiday has such a thing happened. You are priviledged indeed to note that you have my communications at a time when I'm at my most vulnerable - I'm sitting here in just my pants while regaling you with my wit, wisdoms and bon mots (permission allowed to photocopy for personal use only).

You may have noticed that my tone is slightly frayed at the moment. This is for a number of reasons, but mainly because I'm in a state of traumatised shock. I've just got in from the gym... Yes, I know, I can't quite believe it myself, but at 10 am this morning I got up and went to the gym where I proceeded to "work out" in the parlance of the regulars. I now feel shakey all over!

Actually, in spite of the obvious surprise, it was quite a good time to go to the gym. Everyone else was at work apart from a few old people and a hugely fat black man who grunted everytime he tried to lift/push/press/pull anything. This was a good thing.

I am not a man very comfortable in gyms, when clothed I feel confident in my own beauty and able to go into any environment with that aura of superficial superiority so loved by homosexuals. In gyms however, when drenched with sweat and beshorted, I am hugely self conscious and want to crawl under a rock... Even the pleasure of watching the buff men working out isn't enough to remedy this feeling of inadequacy, so I go once every six months and then feel I've done enough to not have to go again, incidentally, this would work out to Â£246 per visit, or £2.73 per minute, a bargain at twice the price!

Making good time

2003-11-04T09:56:00.000Z

I am pleased to report that the more I walk into work the faster I get, I've been doing this walk for almost exactly a year now, and from originally taking about 45 minutes, it now only takes me fractionally over 30 minutes... I don't believe I was walking particularly slowly before, but it would seem that familiarity leads to greater speed. I'd be interested to find out how long the speed increase continues for, for example, if I did the same walk for another two years would it only take me 20 minutes? Faster than most cabs... Maybe this is the trick to faster than light travel, just keep making the same journey over and over again with the associated increases in speed critical velocity would be achieved.

I was, however, a bit slowed down today because there's a fantastic Calvin Klein underwear poster on the enormous site near Centre Point... I had to stand and drool at the attractive man sweating in just his pants!

Stupid Git

2003-11-03T10:39:00.000Z

I walked into some scaffolding yesterday, when out with my friend Shaun. Now my arm hurts and I can't move my hand properly... No need to worry though, cos it's my right hand, so masturbation can contuinue as normal!

For Damnation, please press 2

2003-10-24T11:31:00.000+01:00

On Wednesday night, I made the mistake of calling the credit card customer line at Bank of Scotland... 24 minutes my call was held in a queue, with a very jolly sounding Scottish woman telling me that my call was in a queue (like I hadn't realised) and that a customer service agent would answer me shortly.

Just now, which his phone ringing approximately every 4 minutes Simon Williams asked if it was possible to divert his phone, possibly to hell, and that started me thinking...

Thank you for calling Hell Inc. If you have a touch tone phone, please press the star key now...

Thank you.

For Sins, please press 1.
For Damnation, please press 2
For Career opportunities, please press 3
For Limbo please press 4
For all other options, please press 5
If you have a soul to sell, please hold, and an assistant will be with you as soon as possible...

Thank you, you have selected Sins.

For cardinal sins, please press 1
For minor sins, please press 2
For sins of the flesh, please press 3
To return to the main menu, please press 666

Thank you, please hold and a customer service service agent will be with you shortly.

"Hi, you're through to the voicemail of Be'elzebub, demon responsible for sins of the flesh, I'm away from my desk right now, but if you leave your name and number and I'll call you back. Alternatively you can dial 666 and return to the main menu"

And the worse thing... The hold music is a continual loop of Barenaked Ladies songs...

Agricultural Techniques Part 2

2003-10-23T09:44:00.000+01:00

Today I haven;t shaved, and no-one's noticed. Actually, today is the fourth day in a row that I haven't shaved and people still haven't noticed.

This can be seen as both a positive and a negative... On the positive side, I hate shaving, so the longer I can get away without doing so is great news, though that's combined with the touch of colour around my jaw line which adds a touch of masculinity, to my pale, slim effeminacy. The negative is that after four days of not shaving I've managed the sort of bristle that normal men achieve over the course of a day... That can't be right, surely. The problem is of course exacerbated by sitting next to the fabulously masculine bearded Greek god, Constantine.

Quick... Pull the plug out!

2003-10-22T10:20:00.000+01:00

Well, I firstly need to emphasise that the title of this post has nothing to do with anything at all... It could be construed to be somewhat suspicious. Not intentional.

Reading the above paragraph I realise that it perfectly typifies what I intended to talk about - i.e. nothing... I'm suffering badly from nothing to say and so am just using lots of words to pad it out in the hope no-one notices. Politicians do this a lot, which is quite a coincidence, because only yesterday lunchtime I announced my intention to become the President of a United Federal Europe or UFE (pronounced OOF) therefore while the President of the Vulgar Republic is known in acronym as POTUS (President of the United States) I'll be known as PUFE (pronounced Poof). The irony is only wasted on the Germans...

At the aforementioned lunch I was out with two of Carat's Strategy Directors, these people are paid vast sums of cash to be wise, and so I felt a little bit out of my depth in the conversation. In order to combat this I turned the subject around to Byzantium, about which I know loads and they know fuck all... Thereby reaffirming my sense of superiority over even the brightest of men!

Last night I went out for drinks with my new colleagues at ZenithOptimedia, they all told me repeatedly how much they were looking forward to me joining... Which again did much to reaffirm how marvelous I think I am...

[Quick, the ego is going into overdrive, pull the plug out!!!!]

Pikey Media

2003-10-13T11:22:00.000+01:00

This week I have mostly got to work on a new-business pitch targeting down-market young men. As an aid to getting into the mindset of this wretched group I have found myself with a copy of "Max Power" on my desk. I was frankly appalled. Now I'm far from prudish about pornography, as any search through my internet history files will confirm, but the notion of the sort of scum who reads this magazine beating off at the pneumatic tarts who feature is one I'm not prepared to countenance. There are some definite truths about the readers of Max Power, and I'd like to share them with you now...

1. They have bad skin, this sort of nerdishness and sexual desperation can only be aimed at those with terminal skin complaints and pock marks that one could hide a rhino in.
2. They have never had sex. But by God do they need to... If they could maybe find a regular girlfriend maybe they wouldn't need to gratify themselves by buying re-molded wheel arches for their Subaru Imprezza (see, I know the parlance!).
3. The fact that every girl even photographed in the magazine has to answer the question "Would you shag an ugly bloke with a nice car?". Smacks of desperation, not least cos every woman in the issue I saw said No.

Things I have learned

2003-10-13T10:18:00.000+01:00

If we accept that no day in which one learned something has been a waste then I can proudly announce that this has not been a wasted weekend. The things I have learned include:

1. Lesbians are unreliable. Much as we love them they are. You can arrange something weeks in advance, but at the last minute, literally three hours before meeting up on a Saturday night they can announce that they have a family emergency out in darkest Wiltshire and leave you high-and-dry. Now these things happen, but I was left with the following dilema on a Saturday night. Do I:
a. Admit to my friends I've been blown out and try to tag along to their night out...
b. Go to Vauxhall to have sex with my pretty, energetic porn star friend...
c. Sit at home playing Civilization 3 in my bedroom like a 13 year old who can't escape from his parents' house to drink cheap cider on the Rec...

2. ITV still can't make a decent historical drama. I watched the first 15 minutes of Henry VIII last night. Needless to say I was appalled. I was prepared to overlook the dreadful acting and production values, but the announcer chose to introduce it with the lines "Life is cheap and the king has a lust for blood". However in the 15 minutes i watched, the only lust for blood was that I felt for everyone who had any hand in this dreadful production. It was the standard of the writing which really finished it off for me. I saw a section with a group of 'plotters' against the crown agreeing to try to overthrow the crown... they were obviously plotters, cos they were meeting in the dark. This seems a bit excessive to me, they were in one of their houses after all, why not light some torches and plot without straining they eyes? But after a series of hearty "Aye"s in agreement to overthrowing the king the leader issued the following instruction and I had to leave the room: "Gather your armies and meet me outside London in three days time". Leaving aside that noblemen in the 16th Century didn't have armies, households, possibly, but private armies had been pretty much crushed under Henry VII, but the raising of an army, and the provisioning of such a force and indeed the time it took to march from one place to another all made a three day deadline ridiculous... all of which could be forgiven except that the agreement was to meet outside London... which isn't quite like meeting outside the Dog and Duck... London's a big place, one of them could have ended at Highgate, one at Stratford, etc, etc...no wonder the plot failed, it was the shoddiest plan ever...

3. Bondage is fun. Should do it more often.

Making History

2003-10-06T11:30:00.000+01:00

On my way into work this morning I noticed that Emma Bunton will be playing at G-A-Y on Monday 13th of October.

How the mighty have fallen.

For those who don't know, G-A-Y is a huge Saturday club which attracts some very top end pop acts to perform, of the Westlife, Atomic Kitten, Christina Aguilera variety. G-A-Y on a Monday is the pikey-est night in London, full of cheap students and sinister reprobates who should know better. Monday night acts are of the "Cheeky Girls" variety. And this is where The-Artist-Formerly-Known-As-Baby-Spice will be performing.

How the Mighty have fallen, indeed.

Which started me thinking about declines and falls, and in my historian-geek mind I found myself drawing parallels between the Spice Girls and the Hapsburg Empire. I will demonstrate:

The Hapsburg Empire

The dominant force in Europe and the World from the 15th to the 18th Centuries. Through assiduous use of alliances, marriages and military might the Hapsburgs welded a diverse range of provinces into a major world power. They were the first European power to exploit the Americas, but internal pressures drove Spain from the main polity and with it much of the strength derived from the Spanish Dominions, particularly the Americas. The remainder of the Empire carried on, but was slowly exhausted by both new, energetic rivals in Prussia and Russia and the revived strength in France. Following one war too many (WW1) in which the Empire made a fairly good showing, the diverse national interests and characters within the Empire drove it apart, leaving a multitude of 2nd and 3rd rank states to mark the grave of one of the major forces in Europe in the last 1,000 years.

The Spice Girls

The dominant force in pop music from 1996 to 2000. Through assiduous use of marketing, publicity and great pop tunes the Spice Girls welded a diverse range of characters into an unstoppable cultural monolith . They were the first European girl band since Bananarama to crack America, but internal pressures drove Ginger Spice from the group and with it much of the presence and personality which played so well around the world particularly the Americas. The remainder of the band carried on, but was slowly exhausted by both new, energetic rivals in All Saints and Atomic Kitten and the revived strength of Kylie Minogue. Following one single too many (Holler) in which the Band made a fairly good showing, the diverse 'musical' interests and ambitions within the band drove it apart, leaving a gaggle of 2nd and 3rd rank pop stars to mark the grave of one of the major forces in pop in the last 20 years.

See - it works....

Other pop stars as countries...

David Bowie - Great Britain: Once dominated the globe through innovation and aggressive exclusion of rivals, now a small figure on the world stage, but wields a disproportionate influence through playing on past glories and strategic alliances with big cultural trends (America!).

Pop Idol (and it's antecedents) - Iran: Built by one man with a mission (the Ayatollah/Simon Fuller) it's power on the surpression of alternative points of view and cultural homogeneity. Teeters on the brink of collapse as the people grow tired of the lack of diversity...

any others?

So, I've been bad...

2003-10-06T09:51:00.000+01:00

Well, yes, I have been: I've been extremely remiss in the updating of this esteemed tome, and you, my worthy disciples must have been suffering from my failure to communicate my wisdom to you... never fear, in spite of the best efforts of Carat to make me actually do some work, I will be devoting much more time to the blog and much less to what passes for work... Love you all still.

Keep Young and Beautiful

2003-10-01T15:45:00.000+01:00

In spite of the ongoing mockery I have received from people who haven't seen it, yesterday I took my first foray into the heady world of hair dye...

Not for me the simple full/half head highlights. No, instead I have a narrow black and white stripe which runs from behind my right ear and along the hairline at the back of my neck... It's actually rather radical, and cool, but unfortunately not radical or interesting enough to get me sent home from work, but here's hoping next month when I get a blue stripe running from my right temple to the nape of my neck...

New Favourite Thing

2003-09-29T09:40:00.000+01:00

This weekend I've decided to come out. No, not like that, that was hardly a state secret before, but I have a new best thing and feel I should come clean. I have become addicted to Waking The Dead, the top BBC crime drama. Now I don't see myself as the type of man who particularly buys into mainstream drama - Casualty leaves me cold, and although I'm keen to see the return of Dirty Den, I can take or leave Eastenders without heartache, but Waking the Dead is fantastic. It's kind of like CSI, but without being syrupy American tosh... I'd even suggest that it might get near to the lofty pedestal occupied in my psyche by The West Wing. Mostly this is due to the marvelous Trevor Eve, who not only keeps following every question with "Is the a clear, unambiguous fact?" which is such an overwriten line they felt compelled to use it about 14 times in last nights episode alone, but is also a kind of maverick, who happens to be the boss, so always seems slightly cheated that he has no boss' office to burst into and resign from the force if-you-bureaucrats-don't-get-off-my-back-and-let-me-solve-this-case. But by virtue of being in charge of the 'Cold Case Unit' he can't do that, so he has to be a maverick by shouting at witnesses a lot.

Last night he pursued a mentally ill suspect across suburban gardens... You never get Frost hedge hopping.

The other major component of the series is Sue Johnston, who plays a Psychological profiler and therefore gets to wear a twinset and talk in a slightly posher, slower, less shrill way than when she was Sheila Grant in Brookie, opposite the slightly repulsive wife-beating Ricky Tomlinson.

Watch it, it's ace.

No-Good Sleazy Dive

2003-09-26T09:10:00.000+01:00

Last night I had one of those times one simply feels compelled to share with the world (no, not one of THOSE times, a different kind). Last night I marshaled my dear parents, wee Kirsty, PJ and Ben and trotted along to Ronnie Scotts top-jazz nightery to see the fabulous Georgie Fame.

Firstly of course I had to get these five people in the right place... Not as easy as it sounds: Kirsty was easy - meet her outside Hennes at Oxford Circus, my mum and dad were apparently in the area anyway, so I (stupidly) didn't worry about them getting there. PJ and Ben on the other hand, were more of a concern. I got a call at 7.30 from PJ to say that he was in Camden, where he was supposed to be meeting Ben, but there was no signs of the small, blond one. Ten minutes later, Ben had been tracked down to London Bridge (no one knows why) but I was warned then that Ben had "taken something". Now Ben is, by nature quite vivacious and exuberant, so when on something the prospect of taking him to a comparatively staid environment, like Ronnie Scotts filled me with dread. Then I got a call from my mother to tell me that she and my dad had finished dinner and were on Charing Cross Road. Rather than leave them wandering around Kirst and I hurried over to meet them at Les Mis on Cambridge Circus. When we arrived, no sign of them... nor ten minutes later. Obviously they were on a different Charing Cross Road, one in Stoke on Trent perhaps.... When I called them again they were apparently on Old Compton Street - no one could tell my why or how they had managed to get from Charing Cross Road to Charing Cross Road via OCS - just bizarre.

I'm getting bored of this story now, so you doubtless feel the same, so I'm going to cut ahead to the club, where we'd got everyone finally assembled.

The support act appeared "The Stan Robinson Quartet" in essence four elderly, cockney gentlemen with an overwhelming fondness for drum solos! This was jazz at it's most noodling, as Stan announced "you may notice that we've been playing different songs every night this week - but it's not we just start the same tunes in different places" Chilling really. A couple of their pieces did sound a bit like chase sequences from Tom and Jerry cartoons, and I was slightly disappointed that a large purple slipper didn't appear with a shout of "Thomas!!!!".

Top marks do go to the pianist who managed to retain an expression of jazz-concentration throughout the whole show, along with frizy grey hair tied back into a scrubby pony-tail! At this point I had a revelation, turning slightly I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye and saw Ben playing air-piano! Apparently "it's all a bit like a rave!" not a comparison which had occurred to me I must admit, I proffered that the absence of goons with glow sticks was a positive, only to be told that "goons with glow sticks haven't been seen for a long time" which was the nail in the coffin of my claim to be down with the kids.

Then the announcement started "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Georgie Fame!" and a short, old bloke appeared with the aura and charisma of a geography teacher. Then he sat at the Hammond organ and gave one of the finest shows, covering pop, jazz, Latin, Cuban, swing finishing with a crooned ballad - fantastic!!

Talk to me!!!!

2003-09-22T17:09:00.000+01:00

I can now receive comments on my blog!

Talk to me my lovelies... tell me how much you love me!

Agricultural techniques

2003-09-22T13:32:00.000+01:00

It has come to my attention that facial hair is becoming almost de-rigeur in my social circle (at least amongst the boys - the girls seem less keen to adopt it). This habit seems to be no-longer restricted to long-time beard afficionardo, Lee Binding, but also my good friend Constantinos Chiotis (who may be of greek extraction) has taken to raising beards, so much so that with his tidy, clipped number and roman nose has the aura of a distinguished socialist academic. Both these are fine examples of the beard-growers art, but this morning, the previously mentioned David (of happy blinking fame)came into the office, with a minor area of scrubland in the point of his chin - rather like the devil, if the devil couldn't grow a beard if his life depended on it.

And me? what am i doing about this move into beard farming... well if I grew a beard I'd make sure it was one to match the size of my ego

Half Man, Half ...

2003-09-18T09:05:00.000+01:00

I had a revelation in the shower this morning. It was quite a major one, so do bear with me!

As I stepped in I glanced at my shoulder and noticed that it was peeling quite badly. Now my first thought was that this was in no small part due to last week's sunburn, but upon reflection I came to an astonishing conclusion... I wasn't peeling, I was rather shedding my skin... like a snake. I might well be a snake who has simply become deluded into thinking he's a man, but the signs are there...

1. A snake is long and thin, as am I.

2. A snake gets bad tempered for a few days before shedding its skin, I've been bad tempered for the past 12 years.

3. Snakes are venemous. I think the parallel there is obvious.

4. Snakes can dislocate their jaws to take a particularly big meal, On several occasion I've surprised myself on how much I can get in my mouth and throat.

5. Snakes have no arms and legs... it's here that my argument falls down.

So as you can see, in the end a promising theory falls down due to the details, but I thought I'd share my musings with you anyway.

I'm generous like that.

The great British public - pt 2

2003-09-16T17:46:00.000+01:00

Today I was given a copy of "best" magazine. A worthwhile tome targeted at the matronly housewife in our midst. Flicking through, past the "I woke up with my leg missing" page and spurning "The heartbreak behind the smiles" for both June Brown AND Peter Davison, I found myself at the problem page. The funniest letter in the world caught my eye...

My Boyfriend's toilet habit is turning me off sex

Recently I walked in on my boyfriend in the loo and was alarmed to see him sitting down to pee, like a woman. He laughed when I told him that I found this effeminate. He says that sometimes he sits and sometimes he stands - he didn't seem at all embarrassed. I still fancy him like mad, he's gorgeous and we have great sex - until the image of him sitting on the loo intrudes into our lovemaking, as it now often does. Once it comes into my mind, it can put me right off doing anything sexual with him. Do you think he could be gay?

I almost pissed myself with mirth... people really are that stupid... the reply was worth it just because it includes the line

"...where did Gay Men Do It Sitting Down come from - a car window sticker?"

There's not enough contempt from agony aunts - this MUST change!

Drunk again

2003-09-16T16:10:00.000+01:00

it's a tuesday afternoon, I've been out for lunch, had lots of wine and a Drambuie to finish... of course I'm drunk, it's what we do!

The Return of the Thin-Pink-Duke

2003-09-14T17:56:00.000+01:00

Well, this is it, I'm back, with what I can only describe as 'a vengeance'. Which is nice, obviously! Also accompanied by the strange mottled-pink-brown tan thing which is the after effect of thinking that time spent in hot sun without the protection of a parasol or a well-designed t-shirt.

Some things were brought to my attention during my time in the sun, and I feel it is my duty to share them with you...

Holiday Snaps

Now I'm not shy. Indeed it has been suggested that I might even be teetering on the vain at times. I am not shy about being photographed in all but the most revealing circumstances, yet there is something about holiday photos which makes my blood run cold. I took my digital camera with me, but for some reason just couldn't bring myself to get in front of it... So there are about 15 pictures of scenery and/or the Vee, but only one includes my good self... Partly this is a direct result of having spent one of the most utterly miserable periods of my life working in a photo-developing kiosk in Piccadilly Circus. I could never understand why so many people felt that the splendor of the many London monuments and landmarks would be improved by standing in front of them and pointing at them. But in general I think it's because of

Shorts

The imperial legs got their bi-annual exposure on this holiday (this is indeed true, since one of the pairs of shorts I brought with me had an old Spanish Peseta in the pocket from my trip to Gran Canaria in 2001). I don't really approve of shorts... It's not that my legs are hideous, OK, they're a bit thin, but that could be said of me in my entirety, they have some shape and there's even muscle definition in places. No, the reason for my disapproval is my feet... Although my legs are alright, my feet are huge (I'm a size 12), so without some trousers, preferably boot cut, my feet stick out from the bottom of my legs (which is usual), with the form and elegance of a golf putter... Not a good look for anyone, and certainly not 'Europe's Vainest man 1998,99 and 2002'.

Food

I love food. I do, all of it, even the bits others can't stand... like mushy peas. Only Indian food turns my stomach. So a trip to Provence seemed like an ideal opportunity to give full vent to the inner gourmand. But I reckoned without the malign influence of the Vee... Who thinks that being a Vegetarian for the last 16 years is a reason to object to restaurants which only serve meat or fish. Now since my return (yesterday) three people have felt it necessary to let me know that the lack of options for vegetarians is common knowledge, and aren't I stupid ha-ha-ha. Which is another beautiful example of hindsight, or that I spent too much time around smart-arsed cunts! So Vee and I spent much of the holiday trying to find a restaurant which would cater to both our needs (mine: feed me vast quantities of authentic Provencal fare; Vee's: something she can actually eat)... Culminating in a stand up row on the quayside in St Tropez whereby I accused her of something dreadful ( I can't remember what) and her telling me that if I really wanted I could choose the restaurant and she'd sit there watching me eat and then have some bread and cheese when we got home... Needless to say after I spent ten minutes sulking, she won that one and we went to a restaurant which served omelets, poisoned me and had the worst service in the whole of southern France (which is saying plenty!).

Sex

There was none... How did that happen????

Beautiful People

2003-09-05T11:06:00.000+01:00

Well this is it, the day before my lovely holiday. For those of you who don't know, myself and the delicious Vee are on our way to St Tropez for a spectacular Footballer's Wives type of experience. I myself have already purchased a peroxide blonde wig and an ankle bracelet... it's all class!

this means that it's quite unlikely that I'll have time between the quaffing of Babycham and the losing of thousands of pounds at the blackjack table to update this blog. Please, don't loose heart my loves, when I get back I'll do my best to furnish you with more entertainment and interest (well, to the same degree as has been provided so far!) and I'll regale you all with tales of cheap tarts and handsome french beach bums!

Bon Voyage!

Rock God

2003-09-03T16:22:00.000+01:00

Unlikely I know, but this is the ambition for me held by my good friend Simon, Baron of Williams.

As has been mentioned in this august tome previously, I have resigned from my job and will soon need to start organising my leaving celebration/bash/do/soiree!

Part of this has, and remains the spectre of jazz! I'm not a bad little jazz singer myself, having trained sufficiently for many years. In order to make this happen, I am in need of a backing band, Simon and his lovely girlfriend Countess Charlotte can play musical instruments, but unfortunately they both prefer rock... so whenever the subject comes up it turns into a jazz - rock debate/fight/argument, as I fight for my musical soul... At the moment a compromise of half jazz, half rock set... but the rock voice is getting louder, drowning out my feeble, yet swingin' jazz ambition... my the lord have mercy on my immortal soul. Daddy-o!

Today's most stupid question

2003-09-03T12:37:00.000+01:00

Came from a friend I've not spoken to for ages, we were chatting on MSN, and he asked:

"Still as tall as ever??"

Now I couldn't help myself, so I replied "No, I had an operation, I'm down to 5'3"!"

He still didn't let it go... "aah I've heard they are pretty good but hey leave you with a hunch back and a bit of a limp"

"I had one of those, but I dumped him!"

Yep, still England's Funniest Man

Bum Fluff

2003-09-03T10:13:00.000+01:00

At the weekend I went and bought new towels. This is a new experience for me, since I left home, nine years ago on the 24th of this month (all presents accepted!), I've managed to avoid this particular pleasure, I've been using the same ones Vicky's mother gave me and her when we were still living in semi-detatched-suburban-bliss. To be honest it was not my intention to have to buy towels even now, i instead asked my mother to buy me some for my birthday. Now my birthday is in April (the 18th as a point of interest, all presents accepted) and even the most cursory glance at a calender will tell you that we are now in September, a mere five months later. Still I remain a man with many apologies and excuses from my mother, but a noticable lack of new towels.

So with this in mind I ventured into Peter Jones (the shop, not some cute boy-shag) on Saturday evening with the lovely Vee in tow, I selected some lovely burgundy towels of a suitable vast size as well as a very exciting beach towel which folds away into a built in bag (rather like an old fashioned pak-a-mak).

Having washed them before use I took up one of my lovely new towels this morning to dry myself after my shower, again, no problems. Then having arrived at the office I decided to go to the loo (just for usual toilet purposes, nothing seedy, of the Binding variety) looked down into my white pants to find they were full of burgundy fluff... gave me quite a turn let me tell you!

Resignation's what you need...

2003-09-02T11:52:00.000+01:00

...as Roy Castle used to sing (actually in Roy's case, chemotherapy was what he needed, but that's hindsight for you!).

The news is that I resigned from the Big Blue Tower of Death last week. Due to the covert nature of the operation I was unable to announce this exciting fact until now, when it was made public to my much beloved colleagues. Actually, it wasn't made public per-se, in fact all that happened was that an e-mail went round the company asking for application for my job... it was a thinly veiled description of my job admittedly, but only someone who'd been living in the bottom of a cess-filled hole wouldn't get it (so that's most of the occupants of 43-49 Parker Street for you), but nevertheless I can post news of my triumph on the interweb for your entertainment and eddification! Hooray for me.

Unfortunately I'm on a massive three month notice period, so how long do we think we can maintain a semblance of interest for... I give it an hour and a half personally... so that will be that then!

Next stop, organising a stupidly lavish leaving do... Bring me hats, and sequins, and dancing girls, and jazzzz!

Health Warning

2003-08-29T12:56:00.000+01:00

I had a headache this morning, which is not, I must admit, the most exciting opening line to a blog entry, but bear with me...

I had a headache this morning, and in spite of my all my efforts it jsut wouldn't shift. So I went to Boots and brought a pack of Ibuprofen capsules, having taken two and sighed with relief as my pain waned, I made my big mistake... I read the back of the packet, which says:

"This medicine may cause dyspepsia, nausea or abdominal pain. Occasionally stomach ulcers or bleeding. Also skin reactions (rash, itching, blistering and peeling), kidney or liver problems, blood reactions (unusual bruising) and rarely headache, dizziness or hearing disturbances. May cause wheezing, shortness of breath or facial swelling..."

So all of a sudden a headache didn't seem so bad...

And All That Jazz

2003-08-28T11:12:00.000+01:00

Bought a copy of The Best of Nina Simone last night, and so have decided to inflict it on the rest of the office, since God only knows that they need a bit of cultural validation, in the sea of Heart FM and greek folk music which is the usual musical fodder in Parker Tower. There seems to be a bit of resentment from the cheap seats, but that's jsut to me expected. They should jsut think themselves lucky they've got the incredibly talented Ms Simone rather than the oh-so-beautiful Bryan Ferry instead... not that there's not a real need for a bit of suaving-up of my colleagues!

...and I'm feeling good!

Woaah! You're in the army now

2003-08-27T17:13:00.000+01:00

The reason for the title is that I have just been informed that the correct proceedure for saluting in the British Army is "Longest way up, shortest way down"... go on... you figure it out!

THe reason for the post in general is that I haven't yet bothered today... now whereas Lee has a vast and innordinately comical range of topicas to discuss (far too many of which are centered uround Girls Aloud) and Vee manages to turn even the most minor infraction into a couple of hundred bile-tinged words. I'm neither that venemous, nor that surreal, this means I find it much more difficult to think of anything to write about. I have considered that I may use this page as an opportunity to demonstrate my freakish memory for trivia and the useless information, almost a 'Daily Fact' kind of thing (see above, I also know large amounts of information about the butter and cheese markets in the UK, but that's hardly by choice). But I don't think that fits in with my image as sophisticated and well bred (pretend you've never met my family) icon of A-List Gaydom. Instead I simply clutch at straws and try to justify it's ongoing existance by sharing the fruits of my deliberations... bitter, aren't they.

Life in the goldfish bowl

2003-08-26T09:41:00.000+01:00

Ah, most gentle reader, hail and well met! I have been lax in my attentions of late, and this needs to be rectified! The weekend has been long but lovely... damn it, was doing so well with the slightly archaic styling, and now slipped back to "lovely"!

Right, back to old me! I went to Brighton on Sunday to visit The Vee, who got it into her head that we should go to the Aquarium... now the Vee is scared of things with multiple legs... not two or four, naturally, I mean multiples: eight plus in fact... so we go to this aquarium and they have a crab display on (now by display I mean crabs in tanks, not like a crab display team of a Red Arrows variety - But you knew that already). From the smallest (about two inches across) to the biggest (about two feet across) she squeaked and squealed in an extremely endearing display of abject terror, all the while gripping my hand so much that I began to lose feeling in my lower left arm!

Liked the sharks though...

The Great British Public

2003-08-22T10:52:00.000+01:00

Now this is far too big a subject to include in one simple blog entry, but very little annoys me more than the 'Great British Public' not only are they (we???) xenophobic, nasty, petty, arrogant, triumphalist, defeatist and stupid, but we insist on trying to share what we know with each other... and what we know isn't worth shit... except me, for I am wise, but more on that later!

This particularly inflamatory characteristic was brought to my attention when reading BBC Good Homes Magazine. They have a page where readers can share their 'handy hints' and someone saw fit to write in to say that in order to separate two stuck together tumblers one should fill the inner one with cold water whilst standing them in hot... which pisswit has proved themself unable to pull one tumbler out of another one? What were they stuck together with - superglue? And not only that this person saw fit to give the good readers of "BBC Good Homes Magazine" a lesson in GCSE physics... fuck off back to Shropshire you patronising old bitch!

Then there was a comment for all those too poor to buy a newspaper, when moving house use pages from a phone book! For fuck's sake! If you can't afford newspaper why not use your copy of fucking BBC Good Homes Magazine!!!

And don't even start me on radio phone ins...

Chemical Weapons

2003-08-21T10:08:00.000+01:00

Last night I went for a coffee with the lovely Vee after work... not you might think of much interest or note to share with you all, my gentle readers, but whilst sitting outside the Coffee Republic on the Aldwych we were passed by two Japanese tourists, young ladies of considerable attractiveness and fashionableness of attire. As they passed our table one of them let rip with the most dreadful fart on God's clean earth... quite ruined my cup of hot chocolate...

I hereby declare biological war on Japan and charge you all, my dearly beloved to launch counterstrikes at all Japanese in the vicinity of London...

Just too happy

2003-08-20T15:37:00.000+01:00

Today is a lovely day, trees, sunshine, chirping birds, pretty boys, etc. etc. All is good. Oh, apart from the urgent client request which means that I have to be here in the office rather than bunking off to the pub.

With this in mind I must sadly decline to put anything of consequence on this page, since I only really manage to come up with anything when irritated...

Happy Wednesday everyone!

Porn in the office

2003-08-19T16:42:00.000+01:00

Today an e-mail was sent to me from one of the strategy directors here: It went:

Subject: NUDE MALE MODEL REQUIRED

for a photo shoot for 'Project Torchlight' (new in house magazine for Carat UK)

The Brief:

To be attached and photographed to a 'bondage' table whilst three women eat their lunch!

Clothing:

Your birthday suit

Timing:

You'll be out of the office all day Friday

Reward:

Nought pounds and nought pence I'm afraid BUT instant credibility at Carat

NO TIME WASTERS PLEASE

PLEASE E-MAIL ME BACK IF YOU'VE GOT THE BALLS!!

Which is unusual... my issue with this is not that it was considered that I might be prepared to pose naked tied to a bondage table - there are quite enough pictures of me tied and naked on God's own internet to be bothered by that.

It's that if one has balls one should respond... Eunochs should not apply? and how many of them are employed at Carat to make that destinction necessary? Answers on a postcard please...

Let's Go Round Again

2003-08-19T10:23:00.000+01:00

Well today I am feeling shabby to say the least... actually to say the least would be to say nothing and we all know that's not likely!

The reason for this unpleasant sensation of shab is simple and summed up in three simple letters G. A. Y. and that should be enough. Now you may be wondering (not unreasonably) what I'm doing suffering from the effect of london's pikey-est club on a Tuesday, since only a halfwit goes clubbing on a Monday night, and only a half-half wit (quarterwit???) goes to G-A-Y. Well last ngiht, whilst firmly ensconced in my armchair watch EastEnders with my flatmates (can anyone honestly say they care at all about Lyn and Gary any more?) when I got a text from a guy I once knew/shagged in Cardiff called Zak... he was in London and duped me into going out on the pretext of 'a couple of drinks'. Since I ended up taking him to the terminally smug and self satisfied Piano Bar in Sanctuary, he retailiated with G-A-Y... as arms races go, there's nothing to match that!

Pirates and Presidents part 2

2003-08-18T09:44:00.000+01:00

The reason for this update is that I completely forgot what my intention was when I started writing theh previous entry.. .all of 30 seconds ago!

Just to express my love for Pirates of the Carribean... Orlando Bloom desperately wants to be Errol Flynn, Geoffrey Rush desperately wants to be Charles Laughton and I deperately wanted to be in Johnny Depp, dodgy fingernails and all!

On the other hand the West Wing is a perfect TV drama, intelligent, involving and issue led. it also highlights the difference between how the British and the Americans view their leaders, British Prime Ministers on TV are either Jim Hacker (of Yes Prime Minister fame) or Francis Urquhart (House of Cards), crooks, villains or halfwits... no room for a relevant, charismatic, well intentioned leader as with Martin Sheen as Josiah Bartlett in the West Wing...

Pirates and Presidents

2003-08-18T09:36:00.000+01:00

Well, I think I might be getting old... no, please, feel free to contradict me! The reason for this concern first thing on a monday morning (a time renowned for being on top of the world, obviously) is a retrospective look at the weekend. Saturday was a day of limited shopping. Now when I shop normally it involves beautiful things and large sums of money spent on things I neither want nor need... all oif which makes me feel very invigorated. This time instead I just bought season two of the west wing and scuttled home... I spent the entire weekend watching TV, apart from a radical change of pace on Saturday night when I went to the cinema with Stevi.

What has happenend to me? In my former life at the weekend I'd have spent saturday shopping for something to wear to go out clubbing on Saturday night, get in at 5am with some cute dumb boy I have no interest in beyond the obvious penetrative variety. Have I moved that far into middle age that putting my feet up and watching the box seems like a valid use of an entire weekend? Surely not...

Lunch

2003-08-15T11:46:00.000+01:00

Now, today is very much a day of dilemas... the career debate is ongoing, as ever - how much dairy can one man stand in his life is the issue, and it's a big un. But then there's lunch...

Now lunch for me is a fairly big deal, it's my favourite meal of the day and one of the primary social events in my life. The problem is simple - there's only one in a day, and if I want to go for lunch with PJ (the friend), then I have to sacrifice lunch with the colleagues, which is always a pain: Too many friends, not enough jay and lunches stretched thin with demands...

The solution therefore would seem to be to stop limiting social meals to lunch... how about Breakfast, Elevenses, Lunch, Tea, Dinner, Supper, not to mention innumerable cups of coffee out of the office...

Need never go to work at all...

Swearing - Big AND Clever

2003-08-14T15:58:00.000+01:00

Victoria, the lovely girl (the one and only in fact) I used to have relations with. She sent me an e-mail in reply to a comment from me that someone she worked with was a bit feeble minded...

"Well it is more polite than the usual language levelled at Jeremy (which
inevitably involves either c**k, c**ksucker, c**t or f**kwit, or a
combination of some or all of the above) A c**ting c**ksucking f**kwit in
fact. Now you see, swearing isn't big or clever but that's really made me
laugh!

I invented the word "pisswit" the other night, quite by accident. Rather
like it though, and intend to use it more often in conversation."

Therefore your mission, most noble reader, is to use the word Pisswit as an insult in conversation... go to it my pretties!

Jay in "Cute as a button" shocker

2003-08-14T10:57:00.000+01:00

Just to let you know, the lovely Vicky, the ex Girlfriend who actually works in web design has described my blog as "Cute as a button" I think that might be a bit patronising...

Blinkin' Hell

2003-08-14T09:53:00.000+01:00

I found out this mornign that the man who sits opposite me at work expresses joy through the length of his blinks... Dave very slowly closed his eyes and opened them this morning, when challeneged as to what on earth he was doing he assured me "That's my happy blink".

He's a trend setter - they'll all be at it soon.

Catching the Niiiight Train

2003-08-14T09:48:00.000+01:00

OK, always worth starting with a James Brown quote (actually, when i was at school in the early 90s the JB was considered to be extremely cool, a top artiste to name-check, one never hears about him any more. I have no idea if he still is, or if he's just a tired old git who tried to shoot his wife... could those who know what's-hot-and-what's-not please inform me...)

But that's not really the point of this addition, I'm complaining about my day yesterday. Basically I had to go to Leeds for a meeting (those who know me can confirm that I spend far too much of my life in Leeds, so much so that I'm slowly becoming pathologically obsessed with NOT making the journey). That meeting however started at 9am, a not unreasonable time you might think... but it requires a SIX O CLOCK train from Kings Cross... yesterday my alarm went off at 5am... now I have nothing in particular against the hour of 5am, I'm simply of the opinion that it's a time that should really only happen to other people. I approve of 5 in the afternoon. The morning though, its a bit much...

That's it really.

Failed to impress...

2003-08-12T15:46:00.000+01:00

Well I've shown this travesty of effort to others and all of them have seemed frankly unimpressed! and I can't say I blame them... therefore I intend to make a concerted effort to include more words of wisdom in this diary lest it become redundant before it starts, that is, I start, or something... So over the next few days I shall introduce more personal aspects of my life and loves for your entertainment and edification (though be not afraid, for little of it will delve into that often hinted at darker side of my existance...)

On the blocks...

2003-08-12T15:20:00.000+01:00

Well, here it is, my first ever effort at this type of thing... and this is why! It all seems like a great idea and then I realise I have nothing to say... "Surely not" I hear you cry through the ether, well sadly yes! i like to think of myself as an intelligent and articulate fellow with informed opinions and suchlike, but no, when put on the spot I become Cletus the Yokel with about as much of worth to say as Richard Littlejohn. Unlike him however I'm not going to try. Here endeth the lesson.