Everyone's A Critic And Most People Are DJs...

As I've mentioned before (should I start every blogpost with those words from now on?), I have some very good friends who are DJs. They do tend to be the exceptions though. They tend to be pretty normal people who just happen to like playing records and talking in between. They're not arrogant, vain bullshit merchants with rampant egos, hugely mixed up inferiority / superiority complexes and sadistic BO. No, that's just all the DJs who aren't my friends.

You might think that avoiding annoying DJs is easy - just don't turn on your radio when they're on. But it's not that simple. Recent restructuring in the radio industry has meant loads of despicable waffle-merchants having to seek other forms of employment... and now you never know where you're going to bump into one. Take this phone call I had from my insurance company this lunchtime...

(Names have been changed to protect the idiots.)

"Mr. Hirst? Hi, it's Bob from Waste Your Money Insurance here. I'm just calling to tell you about some great new policies you might be interested in..."

"OK, Bob, but I am at work at the moment - I can't really talk..."

"Don't worry, it won't take long. At work, eh? I understand you work in radio... I used to work in radio myself, you know? A little station down in London - I was on air too..."

"Really?"

"Yes, Death Of The Soul FM - do you know it? It started out as a hospital station but then it went online. I'm hoping to get back into it actually. I've got an application in at the moment..."

"Good for you. I really--"

"But I'm based in Glasgow at the moment. Still, there are plenty of stations up here too. One of the biggest radio groups - Crass'n'all - they've got new studios just down the road from here. I pop in sometimes on my way home from work, just to remind them I'm here if they need me. Out of sight, out of mind - so the opposite must apply too, eh?"

"Yes, I suppose. Do you mind if I--?"

"I'm not limiting my options though, I've also got an application in with KWRAP Cincinatti - that's actually one of the biggest Country Music stations in the US, did you know that? They only broadcast to about 20 different states. Radio's big business over in America, you know, the starting salary for a DJ over there is like $20 million, but if you can get into it--"

"Well, good luck with that--"

"I'm on the waiting list - though it can take up to ten years to get an interview. I'm only 50 though, so there's still time before I retire, eh? For an opportunity like that... well, you don't mind waiting, do you?"

I could feel my life slowly ebbing away. The only thing that stopped me from being a little firmer in my interruption was the sure and certain knowledge that as soon as he stopped talking about himself... he'd start trying to sell me insurance.

(From Almost Killed Me)


And finally for today... another cute cat pic. This is Wispa (who you've already met) and Murphy. Wispa and Murphy are in love, though sometimes Murphy is more in love with biscuits. They're both good as gold whenever Louise as around... but the second she steps out of the house, they show their true colours. Here's what they really think of me...

I Love My Manbags

No, I said 'manbags'... not 'funbags'.

This is not a post about my moobs. All you moob-fetishists will have to go elsewhere.

No, this is the post where I come out as a true metrosexual and reveal that I own - and love - not one but TWO different manbags.

This is the first one...

I've had it for well over 10 years now and yet it shows little sign of age. I use it when I'm out walking in the summer months as it can carry everything I would possibly ever need... my fold-up waterproof jacket / cagoule, a small bottle of water, my wma-playing mp3 player, my camera, spare batteries, even sweets (should I wish to take sweets... I rarely do). It's lightweight with a long shoulder strap and I don't even know I'm wearing it half the time. Best of all, like all good manbags, it has at least six different pockets / compartments so that all my bits and pieces can be kept separate from each other. I thought it was all the manbag I would ever need...

Until I discovered this beauty...

Until late last year I was carrying my stuff to work in a part-satchel / part-briefcase effort which did the job but was rather clunky and not that easy to carry if it was too heavy. Then, for Christmas, I received the manbag above and it changed my life. It has at least TEN separate compartments / storage areas, many of them ingeniously hidden, plus three built-in penholders (because I am an utter geek I now carry a red, a blue and a green pen at all times - as well as the black pen I've always carried). Inside I have my address book (old, but I can't throw it away), a phone charger, various pills, remedies, plasters and bandages for emergencies, notebooks for when story ideas strike, magazines, my bank card reader, the Oxford Guide To Grammar & Punctuation (because a good pedant is a well-armed pedant) and a Beretta 9mm semi-automatic pistol. If only.

Louise, being a girl and therefore having to buy herself a new bag at least once every three weeks, champions my use of the manbag... though she does believe I ought to carry even more of my clutter inside it, rather than filling my pants pockets with the unsightly bulges of phones, toothpicks, notebooks and keys. But I'm a bloke, I argue, I'm supposed to have unsightly bulges in my pants! It's not just that I'm pleased to see her. Besides, much as I may love my manbags, I could still be separated from them. There are some things that must never leave my person. If you want my keys, you're gonna have to steal my trousers.

Seeing Stars

Renaissance man and (as I'm obliged to point out every time I write about him) bloke who lives just over the hill from me, Simon Armitage is a poet, novelist, radio star, lecturer, and songwriter of my favourite album of 2009. His latest collection bridges the gap between poetry and short story with aplomb.

(When I was a kid, I used to wonder what a plomb was. I even looked it up in the dictionary but got no joy. Was it a kind of plum? A bomb made by plumbers? A Mercedes driven by the Palestine Liberation Organisation? I never found out. But I've grown up to be the sort of cocky git who uses words without really knowing what they mean. Hence...)

Never more than three pages in length, these stoems or pories will appeal both to readers who enjoy short stories but never got into poetry and those who admire the wordplay and creativity in your average stanza but don't have the attention span for most tall tales. Which is a very longwinded way of saying: they're ace.

Sample opening line: "I hadn't meant to go grave-robbing with Richard Dawkins, but he can be very persuasive."

How could you not want to read on?

My favourite is 'The Cuckoo', which feeds into my recently-mentioned solipsist paranoia when a young man finds out that his parents and friends are all government employed actors - that their work is done now that he's turned 18, and that they're all moving on to other roles.

Special mention must also go to the wonderfully self-deprecating 'Bringing It All Back Home' in which the author finds himself being commemorated in his native village of Marsden with a "Simon Armitage Trail", a guided tour based on his spurious life story...

With Bob spouting his stuff at every lamppost, we walked to a dilapidated cowshed where I was gored by a bull when I was nine, supposedly, then to the escarpment where I'd seen my father bring down a fieldfare with a single stone. Then to Bunny Wood where I'd found Gossip John hanging by the neck, then to a meadow where I'd fallen asleep and woken up with a grass snake curled on my chest, then behind the undertaker's parlour, where, Bob confidently announced, I'd lost my virginity to a girl named Keith.

A Spring Evening

This post was not brought to you by Persil Automatic, Abercrombie & Fitch or Michael McIntyre Live At Wembley.

Honestly.

My Personal Apology To Bill Hicks (and you)

By the way if anyone here is in advertising or marketing... kill yourself.


No, no, no it's just a little thought. I'm just trying to plant seeds. Maybe one day, they'll take root - I don't know. You try, you do what you can. Kill yourself.


Seriously though, if you are, do.


Aaah, no really, there's no rationalisation for what you do and you are Satan's little helpers. Okay - kill yourself - seriously. You are the ruiner of all things good, seriously. No this is not a joke, you're going, "there's going to be a joke coming," there's no fucking joke coming. You are Satan's spawn filling the world with bile and garbage. You are fucked and you are fucking us. Kill yourself. It's the only way to save your fucking soul, kill yourself.

That's Bill Hicks there. In case you didn't know. And I do agree with him. Which is the worst kind of irony.

I've worked in advertising for over 15 years now, but that's the day job. I've always tried to draw a line between that and my private creative work. But I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Bill... I'm weakening...

I know what all the marketing people are thinking right now, "Oh, you know what Bill's doing, he's going for that anti-marketing dollar. That's a good market, he's very smart."


Oh man, I am not doing that. You fucking evil scumbags!


"Ooh, you know what Bill's doing now, he's going for the righteous indignation dollar. That's a big dollar. A lot of people are feeling that indignation. We've done research - huge market. He's doing a good thing."


Goddammit, I'm not doing that, you scum-bags! Quit putting a goddamn dollar sign on every fucking thing on this planet!


"Ooh, the anger dollar. Huge. Huge in times of recession. Giant market, Bill's very bright to do that."

You may remember this post from a few weeks back wherein I got all self-righteous about not selling out, refusing to run advertising on this blog or suck the corporate teet.

Yeah, well, that was before the car ended up costing me £420 for a new flux capacitor. And there's a holiday coming up. And I haven't bought any new clothes since winkle pickers were in. Principles are one thing... holes in your shoes are another thing entirely. And it's not as though my creative side is reaping fortunes... so until it does...

Consider this post an apology. An apology to Bill Hicks, and an apology to you. Because you may notice a few subtle advertisingy things cropping up here from time to time over the next few weeks. Because I really need the money. Feel free to ignore them and just go on about your business. And try not to hate me too much...

Top Ten Songs About Horrible Young People

Having recently watched the movie F on DVD, I'm now even more afraid of scary hoody-wearing young people than ever. As with Eden Lake and French horror Them ('Ils'), it transforms the beastly little oiks you see spitting and swearing on your local street corner into murderous horror film monsters. Now I don't want to go all Mail On Sunday on you and call this a mirror reflecting our society (after all, older generations have been screaming that "the kids are out of control" ever since Adam fathered Cain and Abel), though when you hear about children taking guns into school, knife attacks and junior gang warfare, you can't help but shudder. I prefer to think that, like many good horror films, F merely reflects our society back at us through a cracked mirror darkly. But maybe I'm just looking on the bright side again (you know me!)...

Anyway, I'd recommend F as a cool little urban horror that refuses to take the easier plot paths, shows admirable restraint in terms of violence, and features a stand out performance from David Schofield as the teacher under siege. Cool ending too.

It also inspired this top ten, which needs no further introduction...


10. Morrissey - The Teachers Are Afraid Of The Pupils

Back in the days of The Smiths, Morrissey sang about being terrorised by the "belligerent ghouls" who ran Manchester school. "Spineless swines, demented minds." By the time he hit middle age, he'd grown to see things from the other side of the classroom...

So you stand by the board
Full of fear and intention
And, if you think that they're listening
Well, you've got to be joking

Mucus on your collar
A nail up through the staff chair
A blade in your soap
And you cry into your pillow
To be finished would be a relief

Being Morrissey, of course, he can't help but blame the parents too...

Say the wrong word to our children ...
We'll have you, oh yes, we'll have you
Lay a hand on our children
And it's never too late to have you

9. Carter USM - The Young Offender's Mum

All God's children snatch a handbag
Spot the ball and mash the granddad
Choose the pictures on the news
Count the stitches on the bruise
Lock your sons up with your daughters
Stay at home, don't drink the water

Carter, on the other hand, do find some sympathy for the parents...

Don't lose your temper
In the shopping centre, son
Just remember
The young offender's mum

8. Dan Le Sac Versus Scroobius Pip - Great Britain

Leave it to Scroobius Pip to deliver a more level-head appraisal of the situation...

See sometimes Britain ain't that great
Kids getting stabbed at an alarming rate
Press with a passion to exaggerate
Increasingly clueless heads of state

He even tries to come up with a few of his own solutions. Listen to the song to find out more.

7. Mikrofisch - The Kids Are All Shite

Ah, but now we're getting to the heart of the matter. What's wrong with kids today? It's all down to the music they listen to, reckon Mikrofisch...

Coldplay, Keane and Kaiser Chiefs
Kasabian, Jet and Razorlight
Kings of Leon, Dead 60s...
The kids are all shite!

There's a slight flaw with their argument though. I reckon most of the artists listed above are predominantly listened to by 30+ blokes. (I don't mind the Dead 60s or early Kaisers.) Most kids these days wouldn't be seen dead with a Coldplay CD. I doubt most of them even know what a CD is.

6. My Chemical Romance - Teenagers

Or, if they're a little bit emo, they might be listening to My Chemical Romance... even though those same unruly teenagers scare the shit out of Gerard Way...

5. Ian Dury & The Blockheads - Rough Kids

In case you're thinking Rough Kids are a 21st Century phenomenon, here's Ian Dury whinging about them from back in the late 70s... when I was a rough kid me'sen. I hope I wasn't responsible for this song.

Rough kids play rough games and kick tin cans
Leave their feet out in the aisle
Rough kids have bother and make nuisance
They climb on someone else's fence
Rough kids give m-m-m-m-m-mama no obedience
You know, you know, they've got no sense

4. Elbow - Lippy Kids

Introducing Lippy Kids on their recent tour, Guy Garvey explained that while he does sometimes find himself intimidated by the kids on the corner of his street, he wouldn't want to send them home. Hanging around with his mates at that age was a big part of his development, and led towards him being the man he is today. Somehow, nice Guy that Garvey is, I doubt he's the sort to ever terrorise an old lady... and he never perfected that simian stroll. The Garvey gang spent all their time building rockets.

3. Jarvis Cocker - Fat Children

In which Jarvis gets mugged and murdered by a bunch of flabby delinquents... then comes back to haunt them.

Oh, the parents are the problem
Giving birth to maggots without the sense to become flies

2. Frank Turner - Thatcher Fucked The Kids

Which brings us to Frank Turner... and, man, is he angry.

Whatever happened to childhood?
We're all scared of the kids in our neighbourhood
They're not small, charming and harmless
They're a violent bunch of bastard little shits.

Don't mince your words there, Frank, will you?

And anyone who looks younger than me
Makes me check for my wallet, my phone and my keys,
And I'm tired of being tired out
Always being on the lookout for thieving gits.

But, Frank, who could be responsible for this terrible state of affairs...?

So all the kids are bastards,
But don't blame them, yeah, they learn by example.
Blame the folks who sold the future for the highest bid:
That's right, Thatcher fucked the kids.

And if you don't believe him, listen to the full song for more of his argument...

1. The Indelicates - We Hate The Kids

Long time readers of this blog will not be surprised to see this at number one. It is my favourite single of the 21st Century after all. Just press play.

Oh yeah, we mean it...

So... do you hate the kids? Or blame the parents?

(And can I respond with a Top Ten Songs About Horrible Old People? I can only think of a couple so far...)

48 Hour Film Challenge

Some friends of mine entered the Sci-Fi London 48 Hour Film Challenge. They had just two days to write, film, edit and complete a short sci-fi film... and this is what they came up with...


Rat Race (SCI-FI London 48 Hour Film Challenge... by StudioLAX

Congratulations, guys - I love it!