Swans, Sherbet and Coathangers

I'm loving the re-runs of 'The Crystal Maze' on Ftn at the moment.

Being a poor pleb who can't afford Sky or Cable, I'm currently deprived of channels such as Challenge TV. So imagine my delight when, upon returning from work one dark and gloomy evening, I stumbled upon the shiny head of Richard O'Brien guiding a team of hapless halfwits round the legendary Maze!

Words cannot convey just how important this programme was to me. It was compulsory viewing back when I was about 10. (If you've no idea what I'm talking about, take a look here). Every morning after the show had aired, we would gather in the playground to pick it apart and discuss what the best/worst games had been. We never cared if any team had actually won, oh no. We were far more interested in watching to see if an unfortunate contestant had fallen into one of the many pools of water dotted around the maze.

Continuing on a telly theme, I finally got around to watching season 4 - episode 1 of Family Guy last night. It was definitely worth the wait! Full of gloriously offensive jokes, interspersed with clips from 'British pornography':

Man (ridiculous accent):
You know Mary, we could have sexual intercourse right now. (pause) But let's not.
Woman (equally ridiculous accent):
Okay.

Would you, yes YOU, like to climb Everest? You can! You just need an office with stairs in it and a quick trip to this Website. Race you...

What a great morning! Due to a difficult situation whereby Welsh Water have temporarily cut off all supplies to our building, we were told yesterday that if there was any work we could take home to complete, then we should do that. Fantastic! Thus it was that I rose at a very happy 8.30am this morning, pottered around the house for a bit, and then settled down to some untaxing work in the comfort of my living room. Fiona popped round and brought some of her work with her, and eventually gave me a hand too. I think I could get used to this new style of working!

Sadly I'm back in the office now, eating my lunch and suspiciously eyeing up the chemical toilets that have appeared in the car park. I haven't spotted anyone going over to use them yet. We all must be clenching like mad! Can I hold on until 5pm? Earlier blogs would suggest NOT.

We had a very full house last night, as all housemates were in (for a change) and we were joined by five others for a night of great food and a game of 'Balderdash'. Oh yeah, we know how to party! 'Twas lovely.

Trolley rage. It must exist.

Just as every morning there are thousands of vehicles jostling for space on the same 5 mile stretch of A road heading for the Welsh valleys, I now get a really palpable sense that stepping into a supermarket is even riskier than starting your car.

It won't be long now before there are 'toll aisles' in Sainsburys. How else will they cope with the exponentially increasing volume of trolley traffic?

Yesterday, in the supermarket that must not be named, I was battling my way down the vegetable aisle when somebody banged into the side of me. Dirty tactics! They'd seen, as had I, that there were only three courgettes left. We both wanted one! It was WAR. Well I wasn't going to budge, was I? I'm pretty sure it was my right of way, if such a thing exists indoors. So I didn't move. But neither did they. In fact, they BANGED more aggressively into my trolley!

I refused to make eye contact, but instead applied pressure sideways to try and knock my aggressor into the carrots. There was a heavy tap on my shoulder. I looked up, and... it was my good friend Alistair. He only wanted to say hello!

Every weekday morning at precisely 6.50am, my radio alarm clock 'pings' on. The piercing sound of Radio 1 drifts across my bedroom, and I am reluctantly roused from my slumber. (Although this morning I was roused by the fact that my nose was about -15 degrees in temperature while the rest of me was at a comfortable +20. )

This morning on the radio they were discussing bladder control. I found myself immediately identifying and sniggering along with what they were saying, the gist of which was that men have very tiny weak-walled bladders. This is true. If I need the toilet, then I need it NOW. Not in 30 minutes time, or half a dozen junctions down the motorway... NOW!! Women can hold on forever. They have cast iron bladders.

If I'm in the pub, I always suffer from 'one pint syndrome'. Namely, that is all it takes before a pressing call of nature starts to make itself known. Even if one pint is all I'm going to have in total, I know that I'll have to visit a convenience two or three times in the following hour!

So, is this definitely a universal male thing? And does it get worse with age?

Viz Magazine may occasionally be ruder than a vigilante traffic warden, but always good for a chuckle, as these 'Letters to the Editor' reminded me when they landed in my in-box this morning:

"I work in a call centre in Norwich and we've just been told our jobs are moving to India . I'm so excited! I've always wanted to visit India and with the salary they pay me I'll be able to live like a Maharaja over there. Well done Aviva, keep up the good work.
M Turner"

"Why is it always people who say 'bring back hanging' who also say 'hanging's too good for them'? Make your right wing minds up.
Christina Martin"

"I have just returned from a diplomatic trip to the Congo and I can testify that at no point did I see anyone drinking Um Bongo.
Neil Palmer"

"Why don't NHS bosses start hiring obsessive compulsives as nurses? Their attention to hygiene and constant hand washing would see an end to MRSA outbreaks in no time.
Mitch Bray"

"Alton Towers - Where the magic never ends', or so the commercial says. Imagine my disappointment when it closed at 5.30.
Colum Hill"

"What's all this nonsense about that 66-year-old Romanian woman being the world's oldest mum? My mum's 77. Beat that.
Elaine Russ"

In other news, I went to see The Last King Of Scotland last night, and it is an absolutely excellent film. How a man like Idi Amin could ever rise to become the president of an entire country is a terrifying thought. The film sets out to show us just how paranoid and delusional he was, through the eyes of a Scottish doctor who becomes entangled in the regime. Amin promised the people of Uganda heaven, but instead gave them hell. You think we've got it bad with New Labour...

Definition of theft: A person is guilty of theft if they dishonestly appropriate property belonging to another with the intention of permanently depriving the other of it. So, if you went down to Branscombe Bay earlier this week and took something that had been washed ashore, you stole it! Simple as that.

By this time in 2009, I will no longer be in Cardiff.

There's a scary prediction, if ever I saw one. I thought I'd just jot it down to see how it looked. It's quite terrifying! But also very exciting.

I can't say for sure what the next two years will hold, but circumstances are causing me to look to the future at the moment, and I'm pleased to say it's looking bright. However, it's also likely to be full of change. Now, usually I like major change as much as I like sanding my crotch with glass shards, but on this occasion I'm feeling quietly optimistic.

The statement at the top of the page could be completely wrong. Of course it could. But this time, I'm actually hoping it isn't.

Exciting Oscars news! Three of our nation's finest ladies, Helen Mirren, Kate Winslet and Judi Dench, are all in the running for the 2007 best actress award. Unfortunately, Meryl Streep joins them in that category, and is very likely to run away with it.

Never mind the Oscars, though. What about the awards at the other end of the spectrum? The awards that celebrate the worst that Hollywood has to offer, the 'Razzies', have released their nominations list too. Sharon Stone leads the way for her ill-advised sequel to Basic Instinct. The film is up for seven different awards, in fact! Tim Allen has been nominated as 'Worst Actor' in no fewer than three films. Particularly pleasing is a new category called 'Worst Excuse For Family Entertainment'. About time too - go for it, Santa Clause 3!

I think I may have indulged in a little too much curry last night. I'd had a razor throat all day, and by the time I staggered to Fiona's house my gut was orchestrating a symphony of complaint. Sadly, I had to bail out and go home for a lie down! But not before I'd told Fiona all about my heroic struggles at the bowling alley. I'd tried my hardest, but had been unable to match the large totals that some of my work colleagues set. "So, you were really rubbish?", she helpfully suggested.

I adore trying to make music on my laptop. I don't have much time to do it at the moment, but I am determined to try and get back into it. Currently there are about 100 started-but-not-finished tunes hiding on the laptop, staring at me accusingly like poor neglected children.

Basically, to make tunes I manufacture some squelchy sounds on my synthesizers:

Shove some percussive bips and bops underneath, run the whole lot through various sound effects, and end up with... crap! But it's MY crap, and I love it.
(No, I have no idea what all those knobs do.)

Anyway, as I've sat here wondering what to waffle about today, I've foolishly glanced down at the sandwich I'm eating, a 'Co-Op Chicken & Bacon Caesar wrap'. Off the top of your head, what would you say goes into one of these things? Chicken, bacon, lettuce, mayo, cheese, and a tortilla wrap? Yes! And... no. I've just had a quick scan down the list of 54 ingrediants in my sandwich, (is this a record?!) and now I'm terrified of taking another bite, quite frankly. It's not a very environmentally friendly snack, either. The chicken came from Brazil, the bacon from Germany, and the cheese from Italy, so that's a fair few food miles!

After work today, I'm going to play ten pin bowling with some work colleagues and then on to see my darling girlfriend, so it should be a grand old evening.

The issues of carbon footprints, and offsetting your carbon in order to put yourself into neutral (or something like that) seem to be very important at the moment, don't they? Nobody had heard of these things a year ago, but now that global warming is literally tearing the roofs off our houses and creating the warmest January since the year dot, we suddenly start to care!

Prince Charles. He loves all this stuff. He has been talking to plants for a long time, but now has plans even greater than that. Oh yes. He wants all his staff to cycle to work, use recycled materials as far as possible, and dig pit latrines so that they can compost all their own excrement (that last one may not be true).

God bless our slightly inbred royal family. Mr P. Charles has booked the entire first-class and business class sections of a jumbo jet to fly to New York - to pick up an environmental award! This means he's massively increasing the carbon footprint he's been striving so hard to reduce. That's why he got the award, after all! Never mind.

One of the lovely things about being in a relationship is getting to meet many exciting new people, like I did last night. It's a situation that's fraught with danger though. The pressure is really on to be a good guest! Will you spill your coffee on their carpet? Will you choke on their lovingly prepared food? Will you accidentally step on their 16 month old daughter? And so on. It's enough to give anyone palpitations. Having said that, last night was great and I even managed to secure an open invite to come back again. Success!

What on earth is all this weather about? It's as it February has arrived early, and is trying to headbutt January out of the way. It's all about as life-affirming as piles, out there! Seeing as it took me a full hour to travel the six miles to work this morning, I feel fully justified in having a meteorological moan. I may even decide to shake my fist angrily at nobody in particular.

An effigy of Jade Goody burning on the streets of India... that's not something you expect to see every day, is it? I absolutely cannot believe that the behaviour and comments of a trio of small-minded, unpleasant 'celebrities' has become a political issue. 25,000+ people can't be wrong though, and indeed I do believe that some of their comments have been paddling on the fringes of Racist Lake. Jade has proved once and for all that she has a nasty side to her persona. We all thought that having no more than three brain cells to rub together made her loveable, in a strange kind of way. On the evidence of this week though... NO! And as for you, Danielle Lloyd - Shilpa Shetty has made nearly 50 films. You shop for a living!

Phew! And relax.
The Brit Awards nominations have rolled out this week, and for once, there are people in most categories that I reckon actually deserve to win something! I really hope that the following happens:

Album - Muse (British) Gnarls Barkley (International)
Male - Jarvis Cocker (Br) Beck (I)
Female - Amy Winehouse (Br) Pink (I)
Group - Kasabian (Br) Flaming Lips (I)
Breakthrough Artist - Kooks (Br) Raconteurs (I)
Live Act - Guillemots

Check out the Official Website to see if you agree or disagree.

I spent last night worrying that I might be a thief.

Now, I've never knowingly stolen anything in my entire life, and don't intend to start now. However, I am extremely concerned that I could have lapsed into casual pilferage, and that the police could be knocking down my front door any day now.

I shall explain. I paid a quick visit to generic supermarket chain (I cannot speak their name for they are corporate evilness) after work, to fill up with petrol. Now, generic supermarket chain have a system called 'Pay At The Pump', allowing you to swipe your credit card right there and then, on the forecourt, and drive away without having to interact with a human being.

You insert your card, and are instructed to being fuelling. After fuelling (and here's the crucial bit), you are invited to re-insert your card in order to receive a receipt. At this point, the stupid machine told me that it couldn't read my card. "No receipt for you! Report to the Kiosk!"
My subsequent thought process went as follows:

"So have I paid? Or haven't I? I've inserted my card once already. Surely they've taken payment?! What's the first insert for? Otherwise, wouldn't they just ask for your card at the end?"

And off I drove! Which subsequently prompted some prolonged sessions of hand wringing, and general replaying of the scenario, all night! If I am a petrol thief, I'll be sure to let you know.

I have recently been on a course, the objective of which was to improve my communication skills. Therefore, I am exhilarated to illuminate everybody that my english lexicon has been extendified, my body language is immaculate, I have attained multiplicitous hand gestures that I can deploy at appropriate moments (many of them clean), and my presentational abilities are...

Oh, sod it.

Yesterday, I was packed off on a course entitled 'Communication Skills for Managers', run by a firm called Qualtech. The first thing to mention is that I am not a manager. I can't even manage the toaster, most mornings. Therefore, it was quite embarrassing to have to stand up in front of a room full of powerful, important people and introduce myself as the imposter I was. I got my own back later though, when I delivered a three minute presentation to rival any of their efforts. Promote me now! The lady running the course seemed to be making it up as she went along, but never mind. It made a nice change from being stuck behind a computer all day.

In other news, pupils at Crackley Hall School in Warwickshire have entered the record books for helping to make the world's largest bowl of porridge.

That's excellent. Well done. NOW EAT IT. None of you may leave the table until it's all gone...

The road that I use for the majority of my commute to work, the A470, is an absolute deathtrap. I say this because over the course of the last week there have been four accidents on the same 1 mile stretch. Why is it that eveyone has suddenly forgotten how to drive?!! Granted, the weather hasn't been wonderful of late, but still. It has been crash city out there, and therefore I am forced to conclude that it is now only a matter of time before I become just a statistic, mashed up along the tarmac as yet another lorry driver forgets to use his/her wing mirrors.

80 pence a second! That's what Mr. Beckham is being paid to move across the Atlantic to the great US of A. A quick calculation tells me that I am being paid a measly 3 pence a minute (assuming that I work every second of the year without a break). I think that perhaps Mr. Beckham should be forced to take an immediate pay cut and come back down to earth to join the rest of us. Considering what he does for a living, how on earth is such a stonkingly gargantuan salary justifiable?! Having said that, Mr. Beckham may be earning money at the rate of 80 pence per second, but Mrs. Beckham can quite comfortably spend it at a rate of £5000 an hour. You do the maths.

Were you aware that a duck has three eyelids? What a freaky animal. Tastes great though.

I knew I'd made an impression in Kids Club! The little cherubs returned after the christmas break, eager and excited. Naturally, they were thrilled to see me. Most of them greeted me thus:

"Hi! Can I have a drink please... whatever your name is."

Bless 'em.

This year, in the world of film, many trilogys will be drawing to a close. The Spiderman trilogy. The 'Bourne' trilogy. The Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. The Shrek trilogy... and so it goes on. I really hope that this list doesn't represent a series of future let-downs. I feel it's about time I got really excited by cinema again! The most surprising film for this year? Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Yup. 'Fraid so.

Have you ever tried to steal something from a pub? Many people do, and the usual items to go missing are glasses and ashtrays. An old friend of mine, Josh, used to try and steal a whole table. He'd go to the same pub in Exeter on a regular basis and, along with a number of his student chums, try to sneak their favourite table out past the bouncers. Strangely, they never managed it...

Anyway, I bet you've never contemplated nicking one of these:

(Missing from a pub in Southampton)

What would you do with it?! Take it home and plumb it in, perhaps? It would certainly be a talking point.

It's the first Kids Club of the new year, tonight. What are we doing? *consults timetable*
Biscuit baking! Now that's an activity I can enthusiastically get behind.

Well, what a swell day. There wasn't any work involved (hurrah!), but instead I have had to sit in a lecture theatre, enduring a succession of relentlessly positive speakers, covering topics as diverse as 'Embracing Failure' and 'Evaluation - Why We Should Love It'. Personally, I always have a love-hate relationship with days like these. I often feel that I could be doing something more productive with my time, and yet I am grateful for a day when I don't have to be particularly productive!

Most of the afternoon was taken up with a 'Board Games' session. Yes that's right. The absolute pinnacle of excitement and sophistication.

The day was brought to a slightly premature halt when we suddenly noticed a smell of burning in the lecture theatre, and had to be evacuated. No, there was no suggestion of sabotage...

And now, I'm off to go and spear something for dinner in my local Tesco.

New Year's Eve is always a bit of a lottery. Will it be a late night party of epic proportions, or will you be tucked up in bed with a nice cup of Horlicks before the Big Ben bongs? Ususally I'm perfectly happy to write off the evening as a bit of a lost cause, and head off to bed at exactly 12:01am. I've never fully seen the point of it as a phenomenon.

However, this year, for the first time ever, I spent it with a lot of friends, as we trooped over to here:

(It's in the middle of nowhere)

to drink this:

and try to avoid producing this:

It was brilliant fun! And we all made it to bed at a thrilling and envigorating 3:01am. So there!

And the icing on the cake was discovering that, somewhat surprisingly, the best way to shake off a hangover is to go on an educational trip here!

Oh, but it's good to be back!

*cracks knuckles in gleeful anticipation*

Right.

*tum-ti-tum*

It wasn't a vintage Christmas, in the end, but it wasn't half bad either. My brother had flown in from Japansville (business class upgrade, the lucky sod!), and grandmother was prised out of the retirement home and into a wheelchair so that she could make the 1.5 mile trip to the nearest restaurant for lunch. The best present I received was undoubtedly my breadmaker, so now the house is drowning in dough and constantly smelling like a yeast-fart. If there is such a thing. This is all part of a long term plan called Operation Carbohydrate. Just because it is the new year, why should I detox? Heck, I'd like even more of what I fancy for 2007! (Apologies to all January dieters).

Boxing day with relatives in London brought the unexpected suprise of finding myself sat near Sean Bean in the pub. He was evidently on the pull, deep in conversation with some young floozy, so we decided not to interrupt his flow. Were we seduced by the power of his ring? Well, possibly...

Anyway, we returned to London a few days later to view the car crash of broadway-style showbiz that is the musical 'Wicked'. In terms of production values, they really have thrown everything at it (check out the video here to see just how sophisticated it is). Unfortunately, for all its surface sparkle, the rest of it fell a bit flat, for me. I'd liken it to an X-Factor winner. You can see there's talent, but still the overall experience is one of disappointing blandness. I had a heated debate with a friend of mine, who maintains the unshakeable belief that Wicked is actually very deep and meaningful. It tries! But fails. Despite all the questions it poses concerning animal rights for flying monkeys (no, really), political spin and destiny, it forgets to actually try and provide some satisfactory answers.

But it does have a very cool fire breathing dragon.

I'm off to the cinema with Fi tonight. Is anything actually worth seeing at the moment?