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Three Is The New Thirty, It Seems, But Is Cookery The New Underground?

Whilst most people would agree that it’s pretty risible that John Lydon (aka Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols) is currently appearing in an advert for butter, let’s bear in mind that it’s over 30 years since the Pistols were at the height of their infamy. So, three decades before being utterly absorbed into the mainstream.

As opposed to something like three years in the case of MC Harvey of So Solid Crew.

Cookery? Seriously?

I’m Built Upside-Down – My Nose Runs And My Feet Smell

I don’t write about running that often on the blog – though some might argue that this is because I don’t really go running all that often either…

Anyway, on Sunday I was booked in to do a half-marathon here in London, but when I woke up it was lashing down with rain, and I had one of those poundy-temple headaches, so I decided against it.

And by crikey, I’m glad I did; runners are a pretty lot – after all, it’s ultimately their choice to go pounding the ground in all weathers – but it seems I missed a bad ‘un; according to posts from runners on Run To The Beat‘s own webforum, it was a mess from start to finish – transport difficulties getting there and back, a delayed start, bands not lining the route as promised, timing and distance inaccuracies, limited toilet facilities, and even the t-shirt which was supposed to be in the finishers’ goody bags appears to have been absent. Not exactly what you want when you’ve paid thirty (or in the case of some charity runners, fifty) quid to be there, is it?

Sometimes, a little voice at the back of my head tells me that rather than leaving home, I’d be better off staying at home with my lovely wife and drinking lots of cups of tea. It’s not always possible to listen to that little voice (there seems to be some correlation, for example, between me showing up for work and getting paid for it), but on this occasion, I’m very, very glad I did.

A Fairy Story (Or An UNFairy Story – You Be The Judge)

Once, a boy was playing in the garden with his older sister.

The boy had a red balloon, and he puffed and puffed into it. Soon, it was as big as his head.

“That’s good,” his sister said, “but be careful you don’t burst it.”

The end of the balloon still in his mouth, the boy nodded, but nonetheless, he inhaled and blew again. The balloon swelled, and was soon as large as a space-hopper.

“Wow! That’s huge!” said his sister, and she turned and shouted. “Mum! Dad! Come and see this!”

Their parents came out of the house, and their eyes widened.

“That’s incredible!” said their mother.

“How is he doing that?” asked their father.

The boy couldn’t answer, because he still had the end of the balloon in his mouth. He just shrugged, and then gestured to let the others know he was going to blow some more air into the balloon.

“Oh, don’t,” said his sister. “You’ll burst it. Just tie the end off now, don’t blow again. It’ll burst and you won’t have your balloon any more.”

“Yes, it’s not designed to get this big,” said his father. “I don’t know how you got it this far. Best to quit while you’re ahead.”

His mother said nothing.

The boy frowned for a moment, thinking, then took a big breath in through his nose, and blew more air into the balloon. It swelled and inflated even more, and soon it was huge – bigger than the boy, and bigger than either of his parents.

“That’s incredible!” said the sister. “How did it get that big?”

“I really don’t know,” said the father, “it shouldn’t be able to expand that much. I -“

Suddenly, the balloon burst, with a BANG which they could all feel in their stomachs. The boy was shocked – at first by the noise, and then as he realised what had happened: his balloon was ruined, and lay in tiny pieces on the ground all around him.

Tears filled the boy’s eyes, and he began to cry.

“Oh,” said his sister. “That’s a pity.”

“Yes,” agreed the father. “Still, it was amazing while it lasted, wasn’t it?”

The boy couldn’t hear their words over the sound of his own sobs, and he ran crying to his mother. He clung to her legs, and she reached down and stroked his hair, trying to calm him.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “I’ll buy you a new balloon.”

“But -” said the sister.

“I don’t know about that,” said the father. “I mean, he knew what he was doing, and the balloon – “

Shh,” said the mother, “not now. Can’t you see he’s upset? If we don’t do it, it’s pretty obvious that he’s going to be really miserable for a while, and that’ll cause problems for us too.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” said the sister. “It’s like you’re rewarding bad behaviour. I mean, Dad said that he should stop, but he kept on doing it.”

“She’s got a point,” said the father.

“We can talk about that sort of thing later,” said the boy’s mother, “at the moment, how and why it happened isn’t really the problem.”

And with that, she took the boy’s hand and led him into the house. The father and sister watched them go, not sure what to say.

“I bet…” said the sister thoughtfully, “I bet that he just gets a new balloon, and that’s the end of it. We won’t talk about how and why, will we?”

The father said nothing, but the look in his eyes said no, he did not expect that there would be any discussion.
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And the moral of the story is… er, well, you tell me.

Gifts To Astound And Amaze

Sweet Jesus!

Hot, sweet Jesus!

… and if you’re wondering how I found these items, well, I was looking for a nice Christmas present to give to you. Oh yes.

Reporting Lottery Wins With An Undercurrent of Sex? What Next? Erotic Bank Statements?

To my mind, the silliest news item currently is the tale of Ianthe Fullagar, an 18-year old lottery winner. The story’s all over the papers at the moment, but if you’ve missed it, here’s the BBC report.

Now, maybe I’m just getting old and jaded, but it seems that there’s a weirdly sexual slant to the reporting on this one – possibly fed by the winner’s comments, or possibly because reporters have been inspired by her age and appearance to try and make it a little bit racy.

To take the most choice quotes:

“[My Mum and I] were both screaming so loudly that my dog, Brock, didn’t know what was happening and bit me on the bottom.”

I’m sorry Miss, it sounds as if your dog has a tendency to attack people, and he may have to be destroyed.

“The 18-year-old, who hid her winning ticket in her bra…”

I dread to think what she’ll do with the cheque.

On The Road Again

As I mentioned a few months ago, the BBC Writersroom are currently running a series of roadshows where you can hear more about what they do, say hello, and even save postage by handing in a script for their perusal.

Well, the latest venue to host the Roadshow is none other than Brighton, a town for which I have a lot of affection (indeed, I was there just over a week ago, dining at English’s Restaurant to celebrate my lovely wife’s birthday). The BBC Writersroom folks will be there on Thursday 4th December, 6.00-7.30pm, at the Sallis Benney Theatre, Faculty of Arts and Agriculture, Grand Parade.

As with all the most exclusive of gatherings, you need to get your name on the guest list to get in, and so you should send an e-mail with your name, and the subject line ‘Brighton Roadshow’ to writersroom@bbc.co.uk.

That’s pretty much all you need to know, but if you want to make sure that I’m not just making this stuff up, then the BBC’s version of the above information is here.

If you do go, please let me know how it went. And could you get me some chocolate-covered honeycomb from the sweetshop on the Pier, while you’re there? Ta.

Free Booklets on ‘How To Write’

As you may have heard, The Guardian newspaper here in Blighty is currently giving away free booklets each day on the subject of ‘How To Write’ – each booklet covers a different area.

However, for those of you who aren’t close to a newsagent, and/or don’t want to give money to the Guardian, the booklets are available online. And in the spirit of making sure you can all have a look without having to lash out 80p for a paper which you’ll just lob in the recycling bin, here are the links to the booklets which have been issued so far:

How To Write Fiction

How To Write Comedy

How To Write Plays And Screenplays

Yet to come are booklets on Memoir and Biography, Journalism, and Books for Children. You should be able to find them online in much the same place, just navigate by date at the foot of the left-hand column (‘Recent Editions of How To Write’).

I’ve read the ones on Fiction and Comedy, and whilst seasoned scribblers might justifiably say that they cover well-trodden ground, there are some points in there which bear repeating. Well, they did for me, anyway.

Have a click and see what you think…

Charm Offensive

Many people I know have certain ideas of what they like, or think they’d like, in a partner.

This chap, though, seem to be taking things a bit far.

If nothing else, I’ll wager all the software engineers who see his comments grind their teeth at how he’s enforcing the very worst kind of stereotype about the folks in their profession. He makes Moss from the IT Crowd sound like Casanova, doesn’t he ?

It Fair Makes One Yearn For The Days When Symbols Like ‘$#!+’ Were Used To Denote Swearing

I’m not much of a fan of Frank Miller’s over-hard-boiled writing on ‘All-Star Batman and Robin The Boy Wonder’; it’s as if he’s writing Sin City with capes, and given the solid work he’s done on the character twice before, it’s rather disappointing.

I find its over-the-top-ness mildly amusing, though – which is almost a shame, as if I actively disliked it I’d be able to use the phrase ‘Wholly Crap Batman’, but as tempting as that is, I have to be honest and admit to more of a ‘meh’ reaction.

Anyway, it turns out that the latest issue (10) of the book has been pulled and pulped by DC Comics, because it featured Batgirl and some criminals sparring and swearing – with the black bars (in the speech balloons) which were there to obscure the naughty words not being dark enough to actually, um, obscure the naughty words.

Want to see the pages, and see Batgirl saying and being called rude things? Well then, brace for strong language and click here.

It’s mildly amusing, sure, but it does seem to raise some questions about the production process involved – why actually go to the trouble of having someone letter the words into the balloons, just to impose black bars over the top of the letters? Why not just put in a bar of appropriate length? Given that much comic lettering is done on computers anyway now (offhand, I think that this title’s computer-lettered by Comicraft, though I could be wrong), why not just save yourself the potential hassle? It’s all rather strange.

It’s hard to imagine that DC Comics are deliberately trying to stir up the publicity here, as they’re very conservative when it comes to the characters they own, and so I don’t see how this is anything other than a rather silly production error. Still, given that the book stars the comic character who’s this year’s biggest box office draw, you’d think a closer eye would be paid to such things, wouldn’t you?

And Doesn’t Melvyn Bragg Evince His Oft-Expressed Love For Cumbria By Spending Much Of His Time In London?

Sean Connery’s new book, ‘Being A Scot’ there. Critics have suggested it’s disappointing in that it reveals fewer details about his career than they might have hoped.

Speaking purely for my puerile self, I find the subject of it a bit odd, given that he’s lived in the USA for the best part of three decades. And, it seems, I’m far from the most high-profile person to have commented on this.

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